Outlaw Star Fan Fiction ❯ Revenge ❯ Chapter 5

The image on the screen shut off.

"Shit!" Gene yelled and hurled his gun away from him. It skidded across the floor, scratching the surface in the process.

Feeling suddenly weak from expending too much energy too fast, Gene slumped to the floor. He buried his face in his hands, and wiped the tears from his eyes with the heels of his palms. Slowly, Gene drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, then laid his head on his knees, staring blankly at the wall. Too tired to feel sad or angry, he sat there numbly. Everything was happening so quickly, and no sleep or food only made it worse.

The room's silence broke with a timid whisper. "Gene?"

Lethargically, Gene lifted his head and turned to the sound. Fred sat on the floor with his legs pulled close to his body, leaning on his palm, staring at Gene with wide red eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Trembling visibly, he reminded one more of a frightened deer than a cutthroat businessman. "I'm sorry," Fred whispered, his voice possessing none of its normal cheerfulness.

"Why should you be?" Gene asked irritably, his tone chiding. "I'm the one who almost killed you in a stupid rage. It's not you I'm angry at."

Fred appeared to brighten a little. Gene never admitted mistakes, and this was as close as an apology as it got. Fred felt slightly honored, but he was still worried. "I didn't want you to react so much to MacDougall. I knew you'd be upset for giving him what he wants," Fred explained to Gene.

"Thanks for pointing that out for me," Gene growled. With a sudden burst of anger-fuelled energy, Gene stood up and stalked to the other side of the room, running his fingers through his crimson hair. "Shit," he mumbled, then saw Fred's frightened face. "You're chicken-shit, you know that?" Gene told him accusingly.

Fred wiped fresh tears from his eyes and put on a bright smile, even though it felt like a dagger had been twisted in his stomach. "In my business that's how you survive, Gene," Fred answered with his mask firmly back in place, and Gene wondered how the man could be cheerful at a time like this.

Gene realized once again how tired he was. He didn't want to deal with Fred, but he didn't feel like going home either. So he flopped on the couch, and turned his head away from Fred in disgust.

Fred remained seated on the floor, tugging on his ear thoughtfully. He could have sworn he had forgotten something. Gene took a moment to wonder where Fred had acquired that cute habit, then decided that he didn't want to know.

Fred suddenly hopped up with an odd combination of cheerfulness and grace. He returned to his desk and typed in a few commands on his computer. Fred's face fell at the result, and he leaned back in his chair.

"What now?" Gene asked gruffly.

"Well, we were able to trace the call, but..." Fred hesitated, afraid to finish.

"But?" Gene prompted.

"All we can tell is that they were in orbit when MacDougall called. They're in space, Gene," Fred said remorsefully.

"Shit!" Gene replied. "I should have known. MacDougall isn't stupid enough to stay here on Sentinel."

"Sorry Gene," Fred said, and murmured to himself, "I wish I could do more than bear bad news."

Gene turned his head away and pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried to think, but he had no concentration left.

Fred watched Gene with concern, feeling hopeless. Noticing that Gene was nodding off, he suggested, "Why don't you go home, and go to bed? You can't do anything in your condition."

Gene looked at him, and thought it weird that Fred didn't offer his own bed. He quickly decided thinking was too hard, and agreed. "You're probably right. I'll show myself out."

Fred watched Gene leave, and finally let despair take over. He sobbed for a while until he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and a kind voice interrupted him. "Young Master?"

Fred looked up to see his guard's concerned face, green eyes no longer concealed by the customary sunglasses. Fred latched onto his guard, and continued weeping. Between sobs Fred whimpered, "Why does Gene hate me? Why?"

The guard held Fred, patting his head reassuringly, and wondered why he had not blown Starwind away for all the times he had hurt the Young Master. He hushed Fred, and picked him up out of his chair. Carrying Fred like a child, the guard brought him to the couch and laid him down. Fred pulled the guard down onto the couch, clinging to him like a child. The guard behaved as if it was natural, which to them it was, and ran his fingers through Fred's hair.

"I don't think he hates you, Young Master," he said.

Fred looked up into his guard's eyes questioningly.

"If he hated you he would not come here at all. Anyway, he must trust you if he asked you for help."

Fred sighed and nodded in agreement. "Then why would he act the way he does?" he asked, hoping for another comforting answer.

His guard took Fred's hand and kissed the back of it. Then he gently nuzzled it with his face. "I don't know," he confessed quietly. "Perhaps Starwind is afraid."

Fred sat silently for a while, eyes closed and in thought. The guard held Fred tenderly, caressing him. He envied Gene for the love Fred had for him, and never understood why Gene continued to throw it away. He had always secretly desired it himself.

In the quiet, Fred spoke. "Ever since I was ten and my father hired you, you've always been there. Thank you."

Fred's guard smiled warmly, and answered. "You're welcome, Young Master."