Chapter Text
Shane watched Ilya carefully. He watched him shut down and answer dutifully when he was asked hard questions, watched him grow irritable and hopelessly stubborn when Shane asked the unanswerable. They did not speak about Shane’s guilt and Ilya’s hurt again. Though Shane thought they should, soon. Because something was wrong.
Most would say Shane was a cold man. He was. By nature, by nurture, by necessity. He was a criminal who killed other criminals for an extravagant living. And he had his soft spots. His indulgences and attachments. Ilya knew about those.
Shane was also, by nature, by nurture, by necessity, someone with a very keen eye. He could see that something had changed for Ilya since they’d last been together. He was already trying to solve it before he was even sure what it was, because that was what Shane always did. He saw problems. He fixed them. He cared about Ilya, this slave who had been given to him by chance, more than any other being in this galaxy. He could fix this. He would.
There was a light knock at Shane’s door in the early hours of the morning. Ilya was already awake beside him in bed. It was dark in his chambers, but Shane could make out the shadow of him when he blinked awake at the disturbance. The moonlight always was bright filtering through the windows on Tatooine.
“Svetlana,” Ilya murmured when he noticed the noise had woken Shane. Shane nodded sleepily. He knew it was the only time Svetlana could find to speak with Ilya when he was assigned to Shane. She didn’t stop by often– anywhere from a couple weeks to once a month when he resided in the palace. Shane also understood that it was her way of keeping an eye out for Ilya. Indirectly, it was a message to Shane. You may have him all to yourself, but there are people who care about him, people who will not let you hurt him with impunity.
Ilya rose and padded down the hall in the dark to answer the door and let Svetlana into the sitting room. He closed the door at the end of the hall for privacy’s sake. He usually did, when Svetlana visited. Shane understood. They deserved privacy. It had never been a problem.
But tonight, Shane sat up in bed instead of going back to sleep.
Slowly, he untangled himself from the sheets. He crept across the bedroom, into the hall, his footsteps light on cool stone.
He stood with his ear to the closed door. Small slivers of yellow light from the other side almost made it glow around the edges in the night. And he listened to their voices, muffled and low. If this were a job, he would have already planted bugs in the room. But it wasn’t. This was Ilya.
“...rain day with you,” Ilya was saying. A soft exhale, a hint of warm laughter from Svetlana.
“I missed you, too. But you shouldn’t be sorry, I understand how it goes.”
“Hm. Is Sasha…?” A pause. Shane thought maybe he missed something too-quiet until she spoke again.
“Not great. But not terrible yet, either. He will not listen to me for the life of him, still. I haven’t given up on trying to bribe Marleau to do something about it.”
“Is Marleau listening to you? Or is he stringing you along?”
“He seems– receptive. I’m working on it.”
“I will make a fuss if he screws you over for this. It’s not as if the Master likes him very much as it is.”
Svetlana clicked her tongue.
“I think he likes to be in the servants’ business as much as he enjoys remaining a guest in good standing. I can convince him to help. Maybe when the Mandalorian leaves, he will listen to you, too. Actually, I think he likes you more than me.”
“I’m not sure I can do much right now. I’ll be here for another two months at least.”
“Gods, these stupid rooms are like a prison. He shouldn’t get to keep you this long. I miss you too much. And Sasha is too much of an idiot for me to handle alone.”
“I am a little scared for him,” Ilya admitted.
“I am, too,” Svetlana sighed.
“If there is something you really think I should do,” Ilya said, “I will do it. I’m not kept chained in here. If I tell Hollander my friends need my help for a time, I can go.”
“Can he help Sasha?” Svetlana asked, interested.
“...I don’t know. I didn’t think of it. It’s not exactly the crowd he runs with, but maybe he could. Should I ask?”
“No, I will try Marleau first. I don’t like the sound of that. Your Mandalorian might be too above-ground and I don’t want to get you into trouble as well, have more idiots to deal with.”
“I don’t think I could get into much trouble with Hollander, even if he can’t help,” Ilya protested. A pause.
“I heard about shouting coming from this area the other day. No one could confirm who it was. It was you two, wasn’t it?” Svetlana asked.
“It was, probably,” Ilya agreed reluctantly.
“Is he hurting you?”
“No.”
“Ilya.”
“I am serious.”
“We can go to Wiebe,” she pressed, “He will listen, especially if there are marks. He can go to the Master, and if it isn’t safe, they want to take care of you. You know Rose hasn’t had to see the Mandalorian since–”
“He wasn’t hurting Rose, he just decided not to see her anymore–”
“That’s what she has to say, Ilya, don’t tell me you believe it. Why do you think you were the one assigned to him afterwards, hm? His prize? He knows Jabba loves you, which was supposed to protect you. Maybe he’s grown too comfortable over the years. I have said all along, I do not think it is smart to leave you alone in here for weeks on end. No one else but the Master gets that kind of privacy and I am afraid it is dangerous to let a man like him keep you with no oversight–”
“He isn’t hurting me,” Ilya interrupted, a hissed whisper, “We were just arguing.”
“About what?”
“He is saying ridiculous things, is all.”
“Like what? Is he threatening you?”
“He said he thinks he should free me.”
A choked silence. And then Svetlana was speaking again, indignant spitfire.
“He can’t free you. The Master would never sell you, and the stipulations are clear, you serve the Mandalorian when he stays in the palace. But he doesn’t own you, he can’t–”
“He must understand what the deal is. I think maybe he wants to buy me, or he just wanted to punish me, I don’t know. I don’t know why he said it. It frightened me. But it is not a big deal.”
“Does he punish you often?”
“No. Never.”
“But you are frightened.”
“Of course I am.”
“What did you say to him?”
“I said, I don’t want to leave this place. I don’t want to be free. Or something like that, that is what I meant, and I was clear.”
“Maybe it was a cruel test.”
“He’s kind to me. I don’t why he would do that. I think I offended him. He seemed concerned, and I believe him, but maybe he was more offended than he said and he wanted to get under my skin.”
“I don’t– that isn’t– I think we should go to Wiebe,” Svetlana finally said.
“I told you, he is not–”
“Ilya. If he is talking like that, and if he is smart, which he is, I think he is testing something. It could get worse. He knows he can’t buy you, and if he can’t get his way, he might hurt you very badly.”
“He would not do that. He isn’t that kind of man.”
“What if he tries to steal you from the palace, then?”
Another silence.
“...Fuck, Svetlana.”
“I will go to Wiebe. I will tell him about the threat, he will call for you, the Mandalorian cannot stop him from seeing you. Wiebe can keep you someplace safe.”
“No, no. I will talk to Hollander about it. He said I can talk to him.”
“You seem afraid.”
“I guess I am. But I do not think he would– he wouldn’t steal me without. Ah. Asking. I think that is what he was doing before. Asking. Whether he was serious or not.”
“You are not making sense. You are scared, but you say he would not hurt you, he would not do this. He does not own you and he is talking about freeing you. This is scaring me, Ilya.”
“He’s good to me. He cares about me.”
“If that is so, he might still be a madman, talking like that. If he steals you, anything could happen. Gods. He has too much power over you as it is. I do not want to take the risk. I am going to Wiebe, now.”
“Please don’t. Svetlana, please. I don’t want to cause trouble.”
“Trouble is better than being dead, or worse.”
“Let me talk to him first. We could talk to him, together, now.”
“I do not want to confront a crazy person in the middle of the night, thank you. Go back to sleep, Ilya. Wiebe will get you in the morning.”
“Svetlana–”
“My mind is made up–”
“Tell Wiebe he made me bleed. He said he’d kill me if I continued to struggle,” Ilya whispered.
“You just said–”
“I know what I said. You should tell Wiebe the full truth, if you are going to tell him the part that frightened me.”
“Shit. Okay. I will. Goddammit, Ilya. Why won’t you tell me these things sooner?”
“He really is kind to me, usually. I mean, we’ve all had worse from the Hutts, and he’s basically one of them by now, isn’t he? He isn’t one of the rabble, it isn’t– I don’t know. I know I’m safer here than elsewhere, with lesser men. It’s not what scares me.”
“You are an idiot. An idiot. I love you. Okay. I will go tell Wiebe now, okay?”
“Okay,” Ilya repeated, “I love you, too.”
Shane heard their shuffling, their silence, and heard the front door open. He crept back into bed and Ilya joined him soon afterwards without a word between them. He was called for in the morning, and Shane let him go, and wondered why he lied. Maybe Ilya really was tired of him and afraid of saying it out loud. Ilya was a good liar, Shane thought. He supposed he had to be.
Shane asked after Wiebe himself after the first day had passed, acting the part of the confused guest. He wondered if he would be questioned. If Ilya had no proof, it would be a matter of word. Ilya knew that. So what had the point to lying been? Whose word mattered more– Jabba’s favorite slave, or his favored bounty hunter? The answer seemed obvious. Employees were always believed over the servants. But who might truly hold the most affection in the King’s shriveled heart?
“The King is ill,” Wiebe told Shane, which Shane already knew was true, “He requested Ilya’s company and care. My sincerest apologies; I didn’t know how long he would keep him. I’ll have the boy returned to you as soon as I can.”
“I’m not impatient,” Shane said diplomatically, “Let the King take his time.”
Ilya was returned to him within a week with fresh and fading welts.
He had an old scar across his lower back, the story of which he had told Shane years ago now, one night in their early years together when he had allowed himself to get tipsy in Shane’s presence for the first and last time. His first week at the palace, he had been placed in the kitchen, and with all the suicidal recklessness of a starving, mourning child, he had stolen good food and let himself be caught. He had hoped he might be killed for it, on accident, on purpose, having heard about the horrors of the Hutts’ whims, so he could see his mother again. He had never stolen anything in his life before and yet had faced worse punishment for far less on the farm. He faced the switch, instead, and he lived.
Shane understood, then, that Ilya had known what the answer would be when Svetlana tried to help him and he lied. He had no evidence. And Shane was more valuable to the King after all.
“I am very sorry I could not see you.” Ilya attempted, standing in the entrance of their chambers like a scolded child.
“I know what happened,” Shane said, “Svetlana will only worry more.”
Ilya took pause. His eyes flitted back and forth as they did when he was overwhelmed.
“Are you going to steal me?” he asked eventually.
“Sometimes I think I should. But you’re right. I wouldn’t if you didn’t want it.”
“My Master would call for your head,” Ilya said, frowning.
“He couldn’t touch us in the Core Worlds,” Shane assured, “The city is a beautiful place to hide. I thought maybe you would like to leave. You said you would go anywhere.”
“Those were only fantasies,” Ilya hurried to interject, “They’re only dreams. I can’t leave this place. It’s– it’s the safest I’ll ever be. I don’t want to go out there, Shane.”
“This is safety?” Shane scoffed, not-unkindly, “The way he treats you– you knew your accusations would be dismissed and that you would be punished for it. I’ve seen how he’s injured you before. I’m sure he’s said and done worse that I haven’t seen. Maybe if your life was really at stake, you would be protected from me or any other guest. But that is very little assurance compared to what it could be.”
“He has every right to,” Ilya said, surprisingly fierce, eyes glinting, “It’s his nature. I know he loves me, besides, and you don’t know all the good he’s done for me.”
And– Shane hadn’t been expecting that. True, it would be hard for anyone to deny that Jabba seemed to care for his slaves, even if it was in his selfish, erratic way. But the impassioned manner in which Ilya said it was startling. Like it actually mattered to him, that Shane had to understand.
“I could take you with me,” Shane tried, “And no one would hurt you again.”
“No?” Ilya asked quietly, “What could I even do out there? I have no– I have nothing. Maybe I could find a kitchen to work in, if I was lucky. But the city is more dangerous than this place, isn’t it? So much anonymity. So many people. Everyone knows each other here. We look out for one another. We make sure no one is taken advantage of, or if they are, then consequences are faced where they can be, because there are rules. There are games to play, too, if you know how. And my Master does love me, you know. I am very, very lucky. I have it better than most in this palace, most on this planet, probably most in this galaxy, free or slave. I am far away from the war, away from poverty. If my Master hadn’t bought me, I would have died on that farm years ago. He saw something special in me the moment I was presented to him, and he saved me, and he made sure I would grow into my full potential– he cares for his property. Anything could happen someplace else.”
Shane listened as Ilya went on, growing more and more frantic with momentum as he spoke. He needed Shane to understand.
“Do you love him for it, then?” Shane wondered. Ilya reeled like he was offended by the very question of it.
“I am grateful to him. I love him in the way a good slave loves a good Master,” Ilya said slowly, delicately, like it was a truth obvious and sacred. Shane didn’t understand that. He didn’t know why he hadn’t expected Ilya to feel such a strong obligation to the man who owned him. He had hoped, perhaps wildly, foolishly, that what he and Ilya shared might have shaped the way Ilya envisioned himself into something new and separate from the grip of the King.
But was there ever any possibility of space for Ilya to become something new if he remained stuck in the same position all this time? Was Shane ultimately just as ignorant and unhelpful as any other patron Ilya came across? He had tried. But he hadn’t done enough. He never did enough. How could he begin to make up for what this was, how could he fix such a thing when all of it was wrong and he was hardly better for Ilya than anyone else who worked for Jabba?
“You would not work for a living in the city,” Shane blanched, another attempt to correct course, “I would keep you safe. I have enough credits for lifetimes, Ilya. You could simply be mine.”
Ilya gaped, hesitated. Grew even quieter.
“I thought– I thought there were no slaves in the Core Worlds. Are there? Or is that just something they say?”
His words hit Shane like a strike. And Ilya was speaking again.
“I mean,” he continued, anxiously taking in the stricken expression on Shane’s face, “If– if that’s what you want, you can have me. Of course, you can have me. I just thought– I’m sorry. I was being– I was confused. Of course you can have me. Whatever you want. I’m sorry.”
And Shane realized for the first time that Ilya was afraid of him, truly. Ilya thought Shane was telling him that he was going to take him away from everything and everyone he had ever known and lock him away in a skyrise to be his slave, on a planet that terrified him, with no one to stop him from being cruel.
Ilya was near to tears.
“I just– I’m scared to leave my friends, I think,” he said weakly in the wake of Shane’s stunned silence.
“No, no. Ilya, listen to me,” Shane pleaded, daring to step closer, finally, to where Ilya had unconsciously retreated, to reach out and take Ilya’s hand in his and squeeze, “You would not be my slave. There are no slaves in the Core Worlds. I mean it when I say I want you to be free.”
Ilya looked to him, his face crumpled in a devastating mix of relief and defeat.
“How could I leave my friends behind? Everyone I’ve ever known? I am made for order, for this one place. I’m not made for freedom, Shane. My mother lived nothing but this life, I will live nothing but this life, my children will live nothing but this life–”
“You’re going to have children here? That’s something you want?”
“It’s not my choice,” Ilya sniffed, “My Master breeds us to his liking. Svetlana and I were cleared for it ages ago, and Wiebe has looked away while we’ve stalled but we are running out of time before it must be done. It’s not like– it’s not what we want. We just would not rather breed with anyone else. And we won’t raise our own, anyway, we have to keep working. It’s the children and the old women who watch over the little ones until the Master decides what to do with them,” noticing the scandal that must be obvious on Shane’s face, he asked, “You don’t know about this? My Master collects the best stock in the galaxy, of course he controls how we breed.”
“I didn’t know how it worked. Was it like that on the farm?”
“No. There was no birth control on the farm. You abstained, or you were punished, and it would be terminated because we could not afford another mouth to feed, or– the master did what he liked. There were so little of us in such a small space. It was hard to disobey.”
“But you were born on the farm.”
“My brother, too.”
“You have a brother?” The first Shane had heard of it.
“He got a girl pregnant, so they cut the chips out of their necks and stole a speeder and escaped in the night. My mother died the next year, and so I was sold. Things were too hard with three of us missing, and I was the youngest. It made sense.”
Shane considered this carefully.
“Do you know who your father was?”
“My mother wouldn’t say. She would deny it, even. Said we were born from the stars, when I was small. But everyone knew. It was the only way.”
“I see.”
“It’s not uncommon.”
“No, I know.”
“He liked my brother more than me, if He liked my brother at all. He was the eldest, so. But I looked more like Him.”
“Your brother is free,” Shane said more than asked.
“Probably, yes, if he didn’t get himself killed in the process, or die of starvation since. He’s probably far from this planet. I never heard anything.”
“What if I could buy your friends? Or get someone else to? Then you could be free together.”
Ilya’s mouth twisted.
“If you could, and even if anyone agreed to it, it’s not– Sasha would go with you, maybe. It might excite him. It might give him a new start. That would be good, I think. But I don’t know what to do about him anywhere. He hates this place almost as much as he hates himself. I’m not sure how determined he really is to die here, or if it would be a good distraction. And I don’t blame him for wanting to– for what he does, even if it breaks my heart. It’s– I don’t know who’s fault it is, but I was almost as bad as him before I met you, maybe just as bad. And Svetlana, and me, I don’t know how to explain it. We’ve built our lives here. We don’t have anything to show for it, really, but we have the people around us, we have the connections we’ve made, what little reputation and leverage we can get. We do have hope for a future here. We’re in good standing. It doesn’t feel right to pick and choose who gets that chance to leave, like you’re saying it. I know everyone here. We’ve raised each other. Some of them are assholes, some of them are the best people I will ever know, and nearly all of them are dear to me in some way. Sasha is trying to kill himself with spice and Svetlana is trying to save him from himself and save me from you– what could we do out there, in the city?” Ilya asked, exhausted.
“There’s so many things to do,” Shane encouraged gently, “If you wanted to run a restaurant or wareshop, I would buy one for you. If you want to drive speeders, fly ships, I would pay for you to learn. If you wanted to work with droids, if you wanted to hunt, study the holonet, make art, go to school– learn design, economics, architecture, literature, astronomy, geology– anything you wanted. You could do anything you wanted.”
“You hunt people for a living. Is that what you want to do?” Ilya challenged.
“It was what I was raised to do best.”
“That is not the same thing as a want.”
“Maybe not. But you wouldn’t start where I started. You could start anywhere. Almost anything you want to do, I can make sure you will.”
“I don’t know what I want, and I don’t see what the point of any of that would be if I didn’t have my friends or anyone I knew and I had to live my whole life afraid of being caught or killed by slavers.”
“You wouldn’t have to be afraid. They have very little power in the Core Worlds, and I’d give you the best security in the galaxy. And your own weapons and training, if you wanted.”
“I still might not have anyone. I probably wouldn’t. Who would agree to this madness? This is all– this is impossible, Shane. I can’t even imagine it.”
“You would have me. And you could meet other people. You surely would, if you wanted to.”
Ilya paused.
“Other people are dangerous,” he finally said, his gaze lowered.
“Ilya–”
“I don’t know what they want. If they’d betray me. Here, I know what everyone wants from me, exactly. I know I’m safe.”
“You are the whim of the most demonstrably violent King in the galaxy,” Shane pressed, and Ilya’s nostrils flared.
“If you want– ” Ilya took a deep breath, “If you really did tell me that you want to have me as yours, always, to keep your bed warm and look after your house and never leave and be your servant for the rest of my life, I would go with you. I would accept that this is what you want, and I would let you take me from this place. I would be your slave. I think I would be happy to serve you. And I would believe you, that it would be the most safe I could be, more safe than this place. But if you ask me to pretend to be your free lover–”
“It wouldn’t be pretend. We are lovers. And you would be free.”
“How can I be free if you pay for everything? I would owe you, insurmountably–”
“You would owe me nothing. Nothing. And you could make your own money. We could– we could marry, and the law would say what’s mine is yours, and yours is yours to keep. Or you wouldn’t ever have to see me, or speak to me, if you didn’t want to. If you want to be free of me. I could provide for you from a distance, happily. Anything you wanted, Ilya. I mean that, even if you decide you don’t want me in your life, I would still give you everything I could.”
“If I’m free, then we are equals.”
Shane stared.
“Yes.”
“You would expect more of me,” Ilya said, and his voice was hard with a nearly regretful kind of surety, “You would resent me. You could be angry with me, and you could hurt me and discard me without guilt, if you believe I am free and equal with as much power and footing as you, when I don’t, and I won’t ever have what you have, and you know that’s true.”
“I would never treat you like that. I am swearing to you now, I only want to give you everything.”
“Even if you say I’m free, I know I’m not. Even if you say I don’t owe you, you know I do,” Ilya insisted.
“That’s not how this works,” Shane retorted, “That’s not how it works when you’re free and someone loves you.”
Ilya blinked.
“What… do you mean?” he asked. And he seemed confused more than anything.
“I mean, I love you,” Shane said, the words punched out of him, “I’ve never loved anyone until I loved you. I’m sure I won’t love anyone after you, either.” Ilya was silent. His eyes were closed and his head was bowed. “I understand if you don’t feel the same way. But you should know, I do, regardless. What I feel– my love isn’t the kind you owe.”
Ilya opened his eyes and tears fell down his face.
“I love you, too,” he confessed, “But, I don’t know if I can give you what you want. I don’t know.”
“That’s okay,” Shane said, and his heart was squeezing in his chest, “That’s okay, I promise.”
“It’s not,” Ilya heaved, “I don’t know what I want.”
Shane held him close, then. He held Ilya tightly to himself like he feared letting go. Perhaps he really did.
“If something was different,” Shane whispered, his lips against Ilya’s temple, after time had blurred together like this, “What could make it easier?”
“I don’t know,” Ilya repeated helplessly, “If everyone didn’t know my face. If you didn’t work like you do. If you just took me, even if I didn’t want it.”
“Okay,” Shane said, “I’m sorry.” Ilya pulled himself closer.
“Would you cut my chip out of my neck?” Ilya asked, muffled in his shoulder.
“What?” Shane asked reflexively, then remembered what Ilya had said about his brother, “Oh, no, a medical droid could surgically remove it once you were somewhere safe, if you wanted. But I could just disable your chip electronically with the right equipment.”
Ilya lifted his head a little and appeared extremely skeptical.
“Are you sure? I’ve never heard of a thing like that.”
“Well, the chip was programmed, and it sends signals back to where it should. That’s how your master can read it, and how it detonates. There’s certain technology designed to interfere with the signal and shut down the connection.”
“What if the connection comes back?” Ilya asked, brow furrowed.
“It won’t. It’s permanent,” Shane assured him. Ilya chewed nervously at his lip.
“I think I would prefer if it was cut out. Just in case.”
“I could bring in a droid, if you really wanted. But, Ilya, it’s perfectly safe. Rebels and liberators have been doing it for the last ten, twenty years at least, no issue.”
“What?” Ilya stared, disbelieving, “I haven’t heard of such a thing, no one here has ever thought to– it’s just not a thing here. It would be suicide to try anything. No one escapes the palace.”
“Of course not,” Shane said, “It’s heavily armed and in the middle of the desert.”
“Hm,” Ilya said, dissatisfied, “That was how my mother killed herself. She crossed the edge of the farm’s boundary and her chip detonated.”
“Oh, gods,” Shane breathed, closing his own eyes against the image of a woman he had never even seen.
“But you really could steal me from this place?”
“I could,” Shane replied with complete confidence, and a small, private inkling of hope.