Chapter Text
Copper was jolted awake by the rumbling truck, unaware he’d fallen asleep. Automatically he assessed those around him in the pale light filtering in through the wooden slats: everyone seemed to be breathing still, and most were asleep, grabbing whatever bit of space they could in the crowded vehicle. Raven was curled up against his one side and Arrow the other, despite the heat; he appreciated that it meant they felt safe with him. He wished he could protect them further but this world allowed for very little control or kindness among slaves.
His eyes caught Emma’s where she huddled in the corner—there was a space around her where no one got too close, not because she would deliberately hurt anyone, but because you never knew what Emma would do. She had been thoroughly broken by someone, and seemed to exist in her own world. Her gaze held Copper’s for an uncomfortably long moment, but he didn’t look away—what else was there to do? Then her eyes flickered towards the back of the truck, and back to him.
Emma wasn’t always in her own little world.
Copper turned and saw one of the other men reaching a stealthy hand towards a sleeping boy, a covetous look on his face. “Don’t even think about it,” he said in a low voice. “Janos. Wake him up,” he told Arrow, who was closer. Sleepily one boy prodded at the other as the man glared at Copper.
“Someone made you the sheriff, huh?” he sneered. “Where d’you think these kids are goin’, anyway?”
Copper could guess and it made him nauseous, but he couldn’t stop that, only what was happening right in front of him. “Janos. Come over here next to Raven.” With dark, hunted eyes the boy obeyed, picking his way across the other kids and squirming into a space. The three men had a gap before them as well, having proved their ill intentions during the long transport.
“I owe you a beating, Sid,” Copper reminded the man calmly.
Sid snorted. “Likely that. We’ll see how tough you are under the head man’s whip.” Copper said nothing in retort, which he knew Sid interpreted as weakness; but he didn’t give a f—k what Sid thought. Unless it was some measure of pain and regret for preying on those weaker than him, but Copper wasn’t holding his breath.
Finally the truck began to slow and its occupants stirred, tension rising. Uncertainty was the worst feeling of all, constantly facing the unknown with your fate decided by someone else. Rather like being a child, really, but with no loving home. Young as they were these children understood the horror of that feeling well enough.
“Are you leaving now, Copper?” Raven asked in a small voice, clutching at his shirt.
He smoothed back her dirty blond hair and tried to smile. “Yes,” he told her. “You have to be brave now. Can you do that, for the others?” Raven was proud and lifted her chin to accept his challenge. “That’s my good girl.”
“Ooh, my good girl,” mocked Sid. “Give us a kiss goodbye then, sweetie!”
Copper might’ve started his beating right then, but the back doors suddenly opened, blinding them all. “You four, out!” Peters ordered sharply. “Copper! Now!”
Stiffly Copper crawled to the doors and let himself down to the ground. The four men were to be sold here—agricultural laborers—while Emma and the children went on to the next stop, destination unknown. It was difficult to imagine any place that would want them, except for the most sinister of uses. Peters was negotiating the price with the buyer, and Copper glanced back into the truck, trying to make eye contact with everyone one last time, for whatever pathetic amount that was worth.
“—strong, rangy, but look at these muscles,” Peters was saying, and he grabbed Copper’s arm and yanked him closer roughly. “He’ll do a full day’s work and more. Moderately intelligent, bit sneaky, though.” Copper was released and Peters went on to talk up the next man. Sid made a rude gesture to him out of sight, seemingly feeling invincible as he’d already been accepted by the buyer.
Well, let’s see how the buyer liked him with a few less teeth.
Copper struck suddenly, with force, dropping Sid to the ground squalling, then pounced on him. He had only seconds, he knew, and had to make them count. Preferably with lasting damage.
The baton bashing his ribs finally made him stop. Peters gave him a few more blows to make sure he stayed down. “Copper, I’ve f-----g had it with you!” he shouted furiously. Dimly Copper saw Sid being hauled away by the other two men, following the buyer, and grinned at the blood he saw trailing them. This earned him another few strikes until he curled up protectively on the ground, instinctively covering his head. “You just cost me some good money, g-------t.” Copper felt really sad about that.
“You know, I always liked you,” Peters claimed. “You got spirit, makes things interesting.” Like you normally wanted that in a slave. “Get back in the truck. Go on, get up.”
Copper staggered, unable to stand fully, and Arrow and Pine tried to help drag him back into the truck. Peters helped only when it threatened to slow him down. “There, you happy?” he asked sarcastically. “You’re back with the kids again.”
Copper laughed, rolling over to avoid choking on his own blood. That hadn’t been his plan, but staying with the children a little longer, helping them if he could, was about the best outcome he could hope for right now. Even if the slightly hysterical laughter made them all think he’d finally cracked like Emma.
“Yeah, you think it’s funny,” Peters scoffed. “Well you know where these kids are bound? Xavier’s. Already got a contract for them. He likes kids there. And the crazies,” he added, indicating Emma. His tone suggested there were very nasty reasons for this. “Don’t know if he’ll want you or not. If not it’s the mines. You’ll never see daylight again.” With that, he slammed the doors shut.
The truck began to rumble away again, and Raven dabbed at one of Copper’s injuries with a piece of cloth torn from her dress. “Are you okay?” she asked, clearly thinking it impossible.
“No permanent damage,” he assessed, trying to sit up and attend his open wounds.
“Xavier’s,” Pine repeated in an exhale, sounding like he’d heard the name before. He was the oldest of the children but still only about twelve.
“What’s that?” Angel asked.
“You don’t know it?” Pine checked, meaning Copper, who shook his head.
“No. What about it?” Copper apparently wasn’t in the target demographic.
“Slave-breakers.” This came from Emma. She rarely spoke but when she did, it was generally something ominous.
“They buy up lots of kids, cheap,” Pine reported, his tone hushed. “No one ever sees them again. Never get sold on.”
“What happens to them?” Raven asked, barely breathing.
Pine either didn’t really know, or couldn’t bring himself to say. “Can’t all just stay there. Not… alive.”
Janos threw himself at Copper in fear, which was not great for Copper’s bruised ribs, and he hugged the small boy. “Okay, enough,” he told Pine. He wanted to say it wouldn’t be that bad, or couldn’t be that bad, but the reality was, it could. He knew some people bought slaves on their last legs to hunt for sport or other hobbies where being disposable was an asset; he’d never heard of it with kids before, but why shouldn’t there be some sick f—k out there who got his kicks that way? Raven and Arrow crowded against him; Angel was a little older and liked to think she was tough, after what she’d seen in her life, but she was also looking apprehensive now—even more than before.
Then Emma started to laugh, echoing Copper’s own. “Slave-breakers,” she repeated, gasping for breath. “Little challenge here, don’t you think?”
“Emma,” Copper tried, as Angel and Pine edged around to his far side. He disentangled himself from the other children, keeping himself between them and Emma, and approached her cautiously. “Emma, can you take a deep breath?” She did not like being touched, so he didn’t try. “Emma, can you hold your breath?” Sometimes that helped to calm her down, if she would try it.
She was not in a trying mood today and instead buried her face in her arms as she rocked back and forth. At least this muffled the laughter, and the snatches of song.
Copper sat back with a sigh. If his anger was a tangible thing it would break them out of this truck and fly them all to safety. But he didn’t even know where that would be, he’d have to go halfway around the world to find someplace worth living in that wouldn’t send them right back. If he was alone he would break something right now—that was what he usually did when these feelings of rage bubbled up inside him—but he didn’t want to scare the children further.
“Copper?” Raven touched his arm and he turned back to her. “Will you tell us a story?”
“Yes, of course,” he agreed immediately, grateful for the distraction. He scooted over so she could sit on his lap with the others gathered around. “What story do you want to hear?”
“The one with the goat,” said Arrow.
“No, tell the one about Grandfather’s spectacles,” countered Pine.
“The lights,” Angel requested. “Tell the one about the lights.” The others took up this idea readily.
“Okay.” Copper had so few memories of his mother—they had been separated at an early age—but the children loved to hear about his family’s preparations for Hanukkah, before he was enslaved. “It was December, and the days were cold and dark…”
**
This time Copper didn’t wake until the doors of the truck were yanked open and the unnatural light of a streetlamp flooded in. “Get up, wake up,” Peters snapped.
“You don’t have to wake them,” countered another voice, surprisingly gentle. “It’s easier if they’re asleep.” At that, Copper struggled to full wakefulness himself.
“Let me out first,” he murmured to the children, maneuvering around them. He wanted to see this Xavier, or whoever he’d sent, for himself.
Copper slipped out of the truck stiffly, knowing he must look a sight with the fresh bruises on his face, his clothes torn and dirty. They had been clean and whole, if utilitarian, when they started out. The truck had stopped on the docks, where a private boat bobbed peacefully in the water; two men stood waiting expectantly with Peters, both of them surprisingly young, without the air of hardness Copper had expected. He sensed Peters’s assistant, Sims, loom up behind him but stood still, unthreatening, as he observed the buyers. Good clothes—one in particular had nice shoes and trousers, an expensive coat, and then a worn, oversized cardigan, though the night was not especially cool. He laughed charmingly at something Peters said—it had to be fake, because nothing Peters ever said was that witty—and then turned towards the truck. His eyes caught the moonlight and were outstandingly blue, twinkling like stars, and for an instant Copper was mesmerized.
Peters saw where he was looking. “Oh yeah,” he commented, breaking the spell, and Copper hurried to lower his gaze. “Brought an extra one, if you want him.” He drew the buyers closer to the truck.
The other one, not the one with bold blue eyes but rather a gangly young man who seemed uncomfortable in his own skin, looked askance at Copper as he stepped around him. “I’ll start loading the kids,” he said, and picked up Janos, who was still asleep.
Copper’s heart constricted as he watched him carry the boy away, but what could he do? Literally nothing that would make any positive difference. So instead he just stared—glared, probably—as the young man carried Janos to the boat, where a dark-haired woman took him below deck.
Peters had been repeating the sales pitch he’d given the last buyer, yanking on Copper’s arm to show his muscles, but the slave had heard it before. He tuned back in to get the sense the blue-eyed man wasn’t swayed. “He’s not really our usual type,” he demurred. “We’re rather specialized.”
“Oh, I’ve heard,” Peters snooped. Arrow was carried out next, looking balefully over the young man’s shoulder at Copper. The slave actually took a step forward after him, without thinking, and Sims clamped a meaty hand down on his shoulder. “What kind of business do you run?” Peters asked. “That you need all these kids for?”
The blue-eyed man gave a ghost of a smile, and Copper knew he would never tell. “Our business,” he replied simply, putting Peters in his place.
The man was undeterred. “Well, no operation can run without muscle!” he insisted, plugging Copper again. “You gotta have someone able-bodied, in their right mind, to do the grunt work.”
The blue-eyed man hesitated. “What’s with all the bruises?” he asked. “Looks like he’s been beaten. Recently.” His tone was absolutely neutral.
“Little discipline,” Peters shrugged without concern. “You don’t want to give him any high-level jobs, he’s kinda sneaky. But moving furniture, groundskeeping, he can do that all day.”
The man seemed amused by his description. “What do you think, Hank?” he asked his colleague, who had coaxed Pine and Angel off the truck. “Do we need someone to move furniture?” The question was obviously meant to be rhetorical.
“No,” Hank replied shortly. He didn’t seem to like Copper, which was fine because Copper didn’t like him; or maybe he was just struggling with maneuvering the two older children, who made things as difficult as they could without actually appearing to resist. Kids got good at that fast. A glance back showed that Raven had retreated to the far end of the truck, with Emma, for all the good that would do her.
“No, sorry,” the blue-eyed man—obviously the one in charge—reiterated to Peters briskly. “I’m afraid his type would disrupt our operation.”
Peters sighed theatrically. “Well, alright. It’s off to the mines for him, then.”
If he was going to the mines anyway, he might as well say his piece, Copper thought recklessly. “What’s the matter?” he challenged, before he could stop himself. “Don’t want someone who can actually fight back?”
The blue-eyed man’s eyebrows shot up, but then Sims beat his baton right between Copper’s shoulders, drawing his attention. “Copper, you got a mouth on you and I’m f-----g sick of it!” Peters declared, as Sims forced the slave to the ground. “You don’t need a mouth in the mines, so—” The pointed toe of his boot aimed right at Copper’s face.
“No!” someone squealed, and Copper realized with horror it was Raven. The little blond girl leaped from the truck onto Peters’s shoulders, throwing him off-balance. Copper surged up, knocking away the distracted Sims, and plucked Raven off before Peters could dash her to the ground. He tried to make a run for it with her, but Peters made a lucky grab at his arm and yanked back hard. His baton swung out and Copper spun desperately, taking a blinding blow to the ribs rather than let Raven be hit. She was screaming, Peters and Sims were swearing, Emma’s hysterical laughter cackled overhead, and then someone else was shouting, ferociously.
“No! Stop it! G-------t, back off!”
Copper realized the blows had stopped, and he risked uncurling from around Raven to see what was going on. Gangly Hank had Sims pinned against the side of the truck, giving a feral snarl when the man dared to twitch, and the blue-eyed man was holding Peters back, his pale face flushed with anger.
“What the h—l do you think you’re doing, you could’ve hurt her,” he snapped, then he seemed to realize there was no reasoning with a man like Peters and released him with a slight shove, hurrying to crouch down beside the two slaves. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” he asked Raven, hand resting gently on her head, and all Copper could see in his eyes was genuine concern. It had been so long since he’d seen that anywhere, he’d almost forgotten what it looked like.
Raven nodded tremulously, tears in her eyes, and Copper let her go to the other man. She would be safer with him, he suddenly felt, than if they had tried to survive as fugitives on the street. Her hand lingered in his as the blue-eyed man picked her up and stood. “That was very brave of you,” he told her seriously. “Why did you try to stop him? Come on, tell me, there’s a good girl.”
“He’s my friend,” Raven replied softly, indicating Copper. Where he sat on the ground Copper grinned, though it hurt to do so, and tucked those words into his heart, for when he was deep in the mines away from the sun.
The blue-eyed man gave this serious consideration. “Hank,” he summoned, and Sims was abandoned. The young man looked harmless once again, but now Copper knew better. Raven was transferred to his arms and sent on to the boat, a place of greater safety, and then the blue-eyed man reached his hand down to Copper. “We may be able to come to an arrangement over this one,” he said to Peters, his smirk mysteriously promising. Copper finally realized the hand was meant to help him up and took it. The man aided him with surprisingly strength. “Copper, was it?”
“Yes.”
“You want him now?” Peters was slightly incredulous, and perhaps a little disappointed that he no longer would have the opportunity to beat the slave. This was now an opportunity to make money, however, and he wouldn’t pass that up. “Well, I’d get fifty for him at the mines—”
“Hardly,” the blue-eyed man scoffed. Copper was thinking the same; the mines were a meat grinder and they didn’t pay for quality. “Twenty.”
“Thirty,” Peters countered. “The kids all like him, he’s good with ‘em. Not in a sick way. Er—” He suddenly realized he might be insulting the buyer’s own predilections, though Copper found that increasingly unlikely. “Not that way,” he amended, as if that was an improvement. The man merely raised an eyebrow. “He tells ‘em stories, looks out for ‘em.” Copper was honestly shocked Peters had even noticed.
“Twenty-five.”
“Sold,” Peters agreed quickly, holding out his hand with a grin.
The man declined to take it. “I’ll need a contract,” he warned, and Peters hurried to get his papers.
“Are you alright?” the blue-eyed man asked Copper. He seemed on the point of reaching for him, as he had Raven, but stopped himself.
“Not really, no.” He was going to have serious trouble moving soon, without looking like an old man.
The man gave a faint smile. “We have a doctor on the boat,” he revealed. “You were very brave also,” he added thoughtfully.
Copper remembered all the things he would’ve liked to do in the past, from when the kids were being carried off the truck back through the last several years, decades. “No, I’m not,” he stated simply, and the man gave him a searching look.
Copper was a little afraid of what it might find. “Don’t forget Emma,” he directed, looking back into the truck. To his surprise he saw that Emma was right there at the edge, looking remarkably lucid.
“No one could forget me,” she declared, holding out her hands imperiously.
Copper and the man bumped into each other moving to help her. Sims lurked closer but Copper snarled at him and he backed off, unwilling to get involved in more trouble. The man stepped aside and let Copper lift Emma down, immediately letting her go after—she hardly weighed more than the children, as she often refused to eat.
“If you would follow Hank, please,” the blue-eyed man suggested courteously, and Emma acceded like a queen, Hank practically tripping over his feet before her.