A Darker Gray

Posted on 23 Jul 2015 @ 6:45pm by Lieutenant JG (SoghHom) Grayson Jones

4,058 words; about a 20 minute read

Mission: Episode 09 - Empires
Location: Grayson's Quarters
Timeline: MU, 2 years ago, March 25th, 2000 hours

ON:

It had been building for a long time, this bubble within Grayson he could not describe. It was bubbling under his skin, clawing at his muscles, surging through his veins. It was a physical pain from an emotional source. Nothing over the past few weeks had seemed to soothe or calm him and he was becoming ever more volatile and unstable. The usual love of the murder of a captive, flushing them out an airlock, the use of his whip. Nothing. His collection of lovers and his various conquests with them. Nothing. Food. Nothing. Drink. Nothing.

Grayson sat on his bed, looking out his window when his bubble burst. Tears began to stream down each cheek from his eyes. His body and mind were in some kind of miscommunication, he felt the water streaming, yet could not understand why. This frustrated him. Standing, Grayson began to pace forcefully at the foot of his bed, eventually he lashed out and kicked his weapon chest which lay in his path. He felt no pain and it was moved several feet. The chest was a heavy beast. All he could hear in his head was a former lover shouting, "Careful, that is mahogany." This particular lover, Cerena, a fellow Trill was a lover of all furnishings. He would miss that about her. She annoyed him too much with the talk of dressing his room with pillows one day, she, and the aforementioned pillows were flushed out the nearest airlock at warp speed. Frustrated, still crying he sat down on his bed.

Having been gone for weeks, flushing out opponents, information and planting several feeds of lies to follow the trail of a particular leak in his information system, Tyrion finally returned home. The only home he had really known in the past years. He looked disheveled and tired, as he walked in yet he froze in the doorway at the sound of heart wrenching sobs. This was something he hadn't really encountered before and he was instantly concerned for his master's wellbeing. "Master?" he queried carefully as he approached the bed, kneeling before it, and Grayson who sat on it.

He looked up, concern touching his altered eyes (as they looked grey now). "Master, are you injured?"

"No," Grayson was caught in shock, every part of his body wanted to lash out at Tyrion, hurt him, force him to leave. Yet he couldn't do it. "You can't see me like this, I need you to leave," he managed to get out, "go fill in your reports. I am in no mood for our usual means of communication." He punctuated his sentence, preempting any response, "Don't touch me."

Now truly concerned, Tyrion watched him closely but made no move to touch him or reach out mentally. "It's best not to have a paper trail of this information master," Tyrion objected, "it's eyes only and extremely sensitive. Any breach in the system could mean danger master. And there is a breach, I've been trying to track it down and I've been partially successful. This person is clever master, but I believe I'm very close to exposing him. I know who it is, but I can't prove it yet."

"Do it in smoke signals then for all I care, just get out," Grayson demanded, looking at the man for the first time, his eyes full and heavy with something he was desperately trying to understand. Looking at Tyrion only seemed to make things worse though.

Hurt spread across the Betazoid's face as he shuffled backwards, never rising from his crouch. He could feel this underlying emotion, but didn't understand what he was feeling. Something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out what. "I'll come back later," he promised, knowing he'd not stray too far now that he was home. He needed to be able to answer summons within seconds, not minutes now that he had returned. "I'll get some rest first, and then write up the report for you. If you need me, I'll be close." As he rose from his crouch he bowed lightly then started to walk out the room. In the doorway, he turned briefly. "I've missed you master."

'I've missed you too, I've needed you,' Grayson thought, finally realising what his emotions were all about. It was care, compassion all along. It came flooding in. Through his whole life, no one had been there for him. Everything he had done, he had so alone, till this man ended up in his life. He started as his servant, then his bodyguard and now trusted advisor. Grayson had gone so far to even think of him as a friend at some points, not that he really had any. Their nights together though were one of his personal highlights, there was something about spending time with Tyrion that actually made him happy. Automatically his head swarmed to the word 'love', but he quickly squashed that. It was something he had resigned himself to not feel, not think of or not allow.

Hearing the thought, despite not really intending to, Tyrion stood utterly motionless, still half turned in the doorway. "Master?" he queried carefully, resisting the urge to run back to the bed and wrap him up in his arms.

Grayson said nothing as he lay down on the bed, allowing himself to curl up. This behaviour was a shock departure from his usual, he had spent so long, pent up with anger, with his plans to cause as much pain and hurt as what he could. Now though, he just needed to feel something else, something much more positive in his life. He started to realise how much he had missed that in his life up until now. Tyrion in some form was providing that missed affection. He hated him for it, for showing him kindness and compassion. For gifts, for care and belonging. For years he had been in his company, seeping his way in, coiling himself around Grayson. It must have all been a ploy, that sick mental power of his weakening him. This was it, his ploy to take over. Take Grayson's place. Take over his plans to become an Intendant.

His body was frozen in place though. Years of unrealised emotions were flooding from him like a dam that had burst.

Watching him, feeling the whirling emotions, Tyrion wasn't sure it was the right thing to do to leave. So, against orders, he walked back to the bed and sat down on it. Saying nothing, he wrapped his arms around Grayson and drew him in, gently kissing the top of his head, then rested his cheek against it. He sat motionless, waiting, listening, praying he wouldn't be pushed away.

Saying nothing, mainly because his mouth had seemed to stop working, Grayson returned the embrace, but much tighter. "You've always shown me kindness, I've never been used to it," he began, mildly sobbing still, "I've never had that in my life, nor come to expect it. My head is messed up right now. I don't know how to process what I am feeling...what I have been feeling for weeks. It is so alien to me. I don't know what to think or what to do."

Tyrion gasped at the sudden tight embrace, feeling as though he might not be able to breathe any second now. He had expected a lot of responses, but this hadn't been one of them. "I don't know either master, but I'm here for you all the same. You are only too aware of my feelings for you, I've never made a point of hiding how or what I feel for you."

"Part of me thinks there is truth in that," his walls started to go back up, returning to his cold exterior, "part of me thinks you've planned it all. You've worked for years, throwing me off balance, wanting some revenge, wanting to kill me and take over all the plans I have lined up. I wish I could say I hate you for this, but I can't." There was a particular poignance and venom in the way he said 'hate'.

"No!" Tyrion exclaimed, "no master never!" There was a touch of panic in his voice as he sat back, "I would never turn on you, never! I vowed I wouldn't, and I wouldn't break that vow. I would rather you killed me, than accuse me of turning against you." He looked afraid. "Remember that one secret, that you allowed me years ago? The one that I would never breathe to anyone else?" He rambled on. "Your guard was down....and you were thinking of a particular day. That's how I got it...it was on your mind. I could've used it against you, I could've made others aware even before the day, but I didn't. I never told anyone. "

"I know," Grayson replied simply, coldly.

"You know?" The Betazoid's eyes widened and he scrambled backwards a little, away from him. "How?"

"You think I wouldn't?" Grayson broke tradition and smiled. "How else? You must have. I felt little tingles over the years. Each getting stronger and stronger. I pushed them away as untrained ability reaching out for something, anything. Turns out I didn't mind all that much. I came to trust you, so knew it would be practically harmless."

"I'm not untrained," Tyrion countered automatically, watching his trembling hands. He didn't see the smile, didn't register it at all. "It wasn't intended, it wasn't like I was looking for it. But...I've come to like our mental brushes....I didn't for a while after you..." He faltered, one hand moving up to the old scar on his chest. "But I'm a telepath, I need the mental contact and you are the closest I have left of family..." He blurted out his confession, convinced that now, he wouldn't be living for much longer. That his minutes were numbered now. "Please believe me, I've always lived to put your needs first. Never thinking of my own, it just happened. You know me well enough master, I'd never hurt you."

"I don't like it, but, you are the one I can say I trust," Grayson confessed also. "I have heavily relied on myself in the world, but you have been a good and faithful servant. We grew closer. I've resisted, I did not want to lower my guard, seem soft. That is when people would have came for me, enemies. Got a lot of them," his voice was cold, returning to its normal unfeeling and unfaltering qualities. "Do not take this as a sign of me being soft on you, if anything, I will have to have you on a shorter leash, you know too much really," he contemplated, hoping it would mask his desire to keep him even closer now, "speak of this to anyone and I will kill you Tyrion."

"No-one," Tyrion vowed, though he still trembled with fear, "and had I wanted you dead, you would be dead." He looked away. "I have killed for you master, I have flushed out spies for others, and I have cleared away competition. I have never once passed on information that you didn't want to be passed on. I am yours, until the day I die."

"Correction Tyrion," he began, "if you wanted me dead, you would be dead." Grayson's voice rang on 'you'. "You may have done much for me, but do not forget who taught you many of the skills you use. I have kept many for myself and will drop you before you could drop a weapon should you ever try. You would do well to remember that."

"I would never harm you," Tyrion repeated softly, "never. You know me well master, have I ever hurt you? Raised arms against you? There is only one time I ever would, and that is to save your life, or spare you from suffering."

"Then for the next few hours, I suggest you leave and make yourself scarce," Grayson admitted, in his best attempt at a friendly warning, "my emotions have the best of me and there is nothing I would like more than to hurt someone. Badly." He was vulnerable and conflicted, Grayson only knew one way to get rid of his problems...literally to get rid of them. Tyrion had caused his, these feelings he was experiencing. If it was anyone else, he would have cut their throats by now and felt much better for it. "For your own sake," he pleaded, "I will call on you later. I have a feeling I may need you to share my bed tonight."

"Would you like me to find someone for you to hurt?" Tyrion asked softly as he slid off the bed, away from Grayson, out of arm's reach. "I'm sorry you feel this way, and I'll stay away, but it's with protest master, I'd rather not leave you alone in this state."

"I wish to be alone, my weapons chest will keep me company," he murmured, now looking away from Tyrion and back casting his gaze out of the window.
Tyrion swallowed, following his gaze and then looked at the chest, which had been shifted from its position. Worry creased his brow. "What will you do?" he asked carefully.

"Examine weapons, sharpen blades, test them on...something. Something less...flesh like. Something stronger, a challenge." Grayson's eyes and voice began to fog over again.

"Please be careful master," Tyrion begged, still inching towards the door, yet reluctant to leave him. "I wish there's something I could do to help....I'm worried master...I'm worried something will go wrong, and I'm your guard, your protector....what if something goes wrong, and I'm not here?"

"Then you find my shell when you return," Grayson gave a wicked smile and mild maniacal self chuckle. "Nothing shall go wrong though."

"So you say," Tyrion objected sadly, "I don't wish for you to die. You're all I have master, all I'll ever have, or need." He sighed as he reached the door, it's frame touching his back when he hit it. He sighed a second time and looked down at his feet. "I don't want to leave."

"Two hours, return then," Grayson ordered, "no sooner. At that point, I think it is time you have your way with me for a change. Don't you?" He still refused to look at Tyrion. "You already have my mental state in...a state. Why not physically now as well? Make it full circle, make it one hell of a night."

"If you wish it master." Tyrion wasn't certain he could do that, but if Grayson ordered it, he would at least try. Visibly anxious, he turned away towards the door, one foot now outside the room. "How does master wish me to dress when I return?" he asked, without looking back.

"No talking, just actions."

Tyrion shook his head, getting more worried by the second. He left the room to spend two hours by himself in which he tried first to relax by taking a hot bath. Then he spent some time training but it didn't help to ease his concern. In the final half hour, he just paced his own little room, trying to decide whether to wear his casual linen - something he'd really grown attached to when not working - or his precious leather.

In the end, he chose for casual and wearing just the pants and the shirt, and nothing else, he padded back into the master bedroom. Saying nothing, he climbed into bed and waited for Grayson to join him if he so desired. Fear was etched on his face as he waited, listening anxiously.

Exiting, his bathroom, already undressed, Grayson strode towards his bed where he proceeded to lay down and wait. For what he was unsure, but he knew tonight, he needed someone else to take control, remove the pressure, reenergize him and make him feel something more.

"I don't know if I can do this," Tyrion whispered as he leaned over, admiring the well toned and muscled body of his master, lover and only real friend. "We've never been this way before, I don't know what I should do. What do you want me to do?" He kissed his temple first, then his cheek, then his lips, his hand carefully roaming his body.

"Just do what I do to you," he replied coldly, not reacting to the touch. "If you are incapable of that, then get out. In fact, you should just leave now anyway. I said no talking and you broke my command," Grayson sat up, "if you can no longer follow simple instructions you are no good to me."

Pushing him back, Tyrion moved to straddle him. "Take off my clothes," he instructed firmly, though his voice shook. It felt wrong, to command his master, and it terrified him. But he had his instructions, and he would carry them out. "Tear them off, take them off I don't care, just get them off me."

Sliding himself out from under Tyrion, Grayson leaned over to his bedside table to grab a data pad. "Tyrion, you have failed. Get out," Grayson ordered forcibly, the kind of force he required himself. "You seem inept today and are thus no good to me, I warned you," he spoke frankly, cuttingly so. "Take this data pad, I am reassigning you for the time being to Central Command. They can deal with you. I no longer have the energy or the will to. I cannot have you around me for the time being," he finished his almost rehearsed speech and went to put on a robe.

The Betazoid's face went utterly white as blood drained from it. "What?" he whispered, "no! Don't send me away, not like this!" He reached out, trying to draw him back, refusing to accept the pad. He felt sick, hurt and afraid. "Please....don't send me away."

Batting his hand away like you would a fly, Grayson continued with much contempt and disdain in his voice, "You leave me no choice. You have left me emotionally compromised and now refuse orders or lack the ability to carry them out. If you cannot do these simple things, then I have no need for you. Follow the orders Tyrion. You know what happens to those who do not."

Conflicted, Tyrion watched him but he didn't move from the bed. "I won't leave you," he said, "I won't leave you unprotected. I can't follow an order that leaves you open to attack. I can't."

"Oh, I am not unprotected. I anticipated this," he began, "Guards!" Grayson shouted, hoping they would hear him. He had two instructed to wait outside the door after Tyrion entered. The two burly males strode into the room, physically off putting they awaited orders. "Should Tyrion refuse my next order, have him dragged to the nearest airlock and put out," he took no joy in that order but saw no other way out. Grayson needed space, time away from everything and everyone, especially Tyrion. "I shall grant you one last act of kindness Tyrion, as a thanks for your loyalty. I will permit you a choice. Two options, two assignments. Either take the order for Central Command or, remain on the ship. Serve the Captain, someone...anyone. I honestly could not care. Serve them as faithfully as you would me. However, if I enter a room...you exit. You see me coming through a corridor...you walk the other way. I do not wish to see you right now and I would hate to flush you out an airlock. I cannot think with you around," Grayson began to tear slightly, only those who stood closest to him would notice. "I need to process things and I cannot have you near."

Tyrion sat frozen. Though he couldn't see the tears, he could sense the conflicted emotion. He was being sent away, this wasn't happening! "I can't serve anyone else," he whispered sadly, "I can continue to hunt for opposition, that'll take me away from you for a while, but please don't make me serve anyone else. I can't....there's no-one I trust but you." He cast the guards a terrified look, knowing only too well he was no match for them. He was strong yes, physically even stronger than Grayson, but no match for them. They were trained for this, and he wasn't. "Please," he begged, "please don't make me do this. Please."

"Do what?" Grayson snapped. "Deny my kindness when I should be giving you none? Deny my orders? You say you serve me yet refuse," it took all his strength not to take the back of his hand across Tyrion's face. If a weapon were more to hand that level of control would have not been there. "Guards, I think you will find he has refused the order, take him," Grayson spat, almost physically he was so enraged.

"No!" Tyrion fought the guards, batting their grabbing hands away. "I serve you master, only you! I can't serve anyone else, don't ask me to serve someone else. I can't, please I can't!" He now wished he had gone for the leather, as it had a wide variety of hidden weapons. Now, he had none but his hands, and his mind. And he used both against the guards, fighting them with all he had, refusing to leave Grayson. He had never refused an order before, but this one, he couldn't obey. He just couldn't.

"Take him away," Grayson let a single tear stream down his face. "You had options Tyrion and refused them all. I am sorry it has come to this."

The Betazoid screamed, fighting the guards, physically and mentally, giving them every ounce of strength he had to give as he tore away from them, flying towards Grayson, throwing himself at his feet. "I beg you master, I've never asked for anything of you but I ask this. Please don't send me away." Tears streamed down his cheeks as he lay at his feet, his body trembling, his face ashen.

With a bare foot, Grayson used a considerable amount of force to push Tyrion away, "My dear, you've not understood. By serving them under my order, you are serving me. And I was more than simply 'sending you away', I was flushing you out an airlock should you choose to disobey and you have." Grayson nodded to the guards to take him once again.

Hitting his head hard against the weapons chest as he was pushed away, Tyrion was left in a daze and the guards could grab him without much resistance. The difference in phrasing registered however and now Tyrion understood the order. Fear held his heart in a vice as they started to drag him off. "I'll go," he whispered sadly, "if you put it that way, I'll go..."

"Stop," Grayson called to his guards, "I'm glad you came to your senses Tyrion. So what will it be? Central Command? The ship?" He quizzed, already thinking of a plan for himself.

Quickly, Tyrion considered the options, there wasn't much time left. "Central, I can serve you better there, more options to flush out your enemies." And less chance of accidental encounters. "I'll make you proud of me again..."

"Less enemies there and more...obstacles," he mused. Now that his guards were free, he had new orders for them, "I too am going to have a little trip. Guards, get my own personal ship ready from the shuttle bay. Have it on hot standby with plenty of reserve and backup fuel."

Tyrion was left alone with him for a final time. He ran back and wrapped his arms tightly around Grayson. "I'm sorry," he sobbed, "I'm sorry I let you down."

It took all he had not to return the embrace but his inner conflict stopped him, "You will make it up to me, in time, when you return. Whenever that will be, when I see fit that is," Grayson said with almost Vulcan like control of his outer facing emotions.

Lifting up his face, Tyrion kissed him a final time. "This was supposed to be a good day," he whispered sadly, "it's your birthday my love."


OFF:

SoghHom Grayson Jones
Saalm Crewmember

Tyrion
Grayson's servant
[pnpc T'Vanna]

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