Out of the Embers

Summoning his breath, Iason allowed a deep swell of air to calm any stray feeling of frustration.

"Pet! Compose yourself. Report yourself to me!" he gave a short dignified demand into the receiver. There was a pause in the scuffling on the other side and then a short 'whompth.'

Iason could easily imagine what went on on the other end. Riki, intent on his confrontation, was startled by his voice. Raoul, sensing his advantage with all the expertise of his tactician position, presumably tackled the mongrel. Thus the so called 'whompth' when Raoul used his superior bulk and strength to suppress the mongrel.

So pleased was Iason at his deduction he didn't hear initially the frantic call his pet shouted into the piece which would be Iason receiver, and close to his ear.

"Iason, where the hell are you?! Rao-" his words were cut by a harsh unseen action on the other side.

"I should hope that's you, Raoul," Iason smiled lightly, certain his friend had regained the upper hand; that or perhaps some other interloper had seized control of the phone. "Else I will question why your Furniture has overpowered both you and Riki combined."

A small huff of air, a repression of annoyance, and Raoul's cultured tone came in.

"All I will say is that your pet got the jump on me. For an instant," Raoul allowed. "I have him in my capable hands." And angry retort was heard in the back.

"Surely. Why don't you give me my pet? I'm sure he'll be more mild tempered once he hears from .me ." Iason answered confidently.

"I can make him obedient instantaneously," Raoul growled out in a vague threatening tone Iason knew was directed at the Pet.

"If you will?" Iason impeded.

"Ah, yes." There was a quiet shuffle, and then a low grumble as the phones were passed and glares exchanged.

"Iason!! It's you!! Dammit, where have you been?! They don't let me talk to you or see you, and Raoul's fuckin' reinforced the door so I can't get out!" There was a pause in which the mongrel regained his breath.

"I'm sure that's for the best," Iason said in a soft tone, cool and dignified in his pets obvious fluster.

"No it's not!! I can't see you. You wanna see me, right? Is that why you've been away? Goddamit Iason, stop being such a -" Riki's comparison was stopped by Raoul, stepping in and taking the phone.

"Do you see what I have to deal with," the other Blondie asked," Honestly I don't know how you did it. Maybe the intercourse kept him in line but I've found the ring works better."

There was a low moan in the background and Iason stifled the urge to sigh.

"Raoul, leave him be. I do want to see him , and you," he switched the phone to his other ear. Absently he rubbed at the moist feeling the receiver gave him," Bring him as soon as you can. I understand you cleared out your schedule for when I would awake."

"But, Iason," Raoul began," You're to have evaluations. Therapies. Meetings with specialists and physiotherapist. It's been practically decided and executed."

"I simply won't go." Iason responded glibly. He could imagine Raoul's budding frustration on the other side. It would amuse him to see that feeling of his friend's to full fruition. " Stalemate then, eh? I can have Riki here without any of the worrying

"You can't just simply not go," Raoul responded in turn, holding his annoyance at bay at what he recognized as Iason's bored baiting. "These things must be done. The amount of time you've spent flat on your back is detrimental. Infusions of vitamins can only do so much and then you just become a sad atrophied mess. Check with your doctors, the technicians. I know your caring routine as well as they do.

"You will otherwise waste in the confines you seem content in placing yourself under." Raoul finished. By the knowing and uncomfortable look on the technician's expression, Iason was more than assured that these words were true. However, defeat was never acceptable in its truest forms.

"Bring my Pet, Raoul. Allowing him visitation will no doubt solve a host of problems the two of us share." Iason leaned back on the sterile pillows. I too wish to progress out of here ."

"Ah- well," Raoul looked uncertain at this back in his own abode. A small enthused sound to the far side was heard. Iason smiled despite himself in his bed, and could imagine after the short pause that followed, that Raoul narrowed his eyes in stereotypical fashion, trying to block against the unseen but heard factor.

He could imagine a reluctant nod at Raoul's end, more for the Blondie's own benefit than Iason's. After all, the telecommunicative device lacked a visual screen

"Very good. I look forward to seeing the both of you soon," Iason cut transmission with a smart flip of the finger over the end key. He laid it at the side of his hip, and spying the technician edging close to his room, announced he was ready.

***

"This doesn't hurt, I hope," a deep pressure was applied at the spot of flesh about an inch from where his legs now ended.

"No," Iason confirmed, nodding as the doctor examined what remained of his lower region. The Blondie felt a defeated sort of victory. He finally saw a real doctor, trained an overly competent. He'd come into Iason's private room only minutes after agreeing with Raoul. The doctor had brought with him extra finely focused lights, a case full of instruments and his own assorted knowledge in the areas of violent and otherwise messy loss of limbs.

Current time saw Iason, the sheet pulled back, the delicate clothe robe discarded and folded neatly at the far corner where Iason telltale bodily leavings were. The Blondie currently lounged against his pillow, his body open and naked for the clinical and somewhat appreciative eye of the doctor to examine him.

After a basic temperature reading, heart rate check, and others to determine if Iason was healthy at the moment. Also included was a question asked solely about his internal health. It proved rather embarrassing as well as awkward, and Iason had to wonder if Jupiter had logged herself into the medical pad the doctor used to specifically ask about this.

The question simply asked if Iason had experienced any healthy bout of male exertion before waking up, or shortly after. The Blondie became aware of the evidence in the far corner giving off its own telltale signs, subtle male odors. In as dignified a tone as he could manage, not hard considering his circumstances of birth demanded nothing but that face since his creation, Iason informed the man that he had indeed.

A brief silence passed as his answer was logged into the pad.

The Doctor then tuned his attention onto the remains of Iason's leg. His stumps. His residual limbs, as the doctor seemed so fond to tell him as he examined him, were healing nicely. After determining pain and checking the occurring scar formation, he felt around the tips, his eyes gauging Iason's reaction to pain or stimulus.

After a particularly painful amount of pressure to which Iason did not respond facially, the doctor, reconsidered. Perhaps, recalling the stoic upbringing of Blondies, the doctor then instructed Iason to respond verbally to sensations of physical pain.

Using this new more communicative system, Iason let the professional know in a detached sort of voice when the pain became greater than he could tolerably stand. The doctor made notes of the condition of the ends, jotted down notes that had vast quantities of meaning to him , and prescribed a battery of tests to determine the full extent of internal damage.

"Wasn't that done before hand?" Iason asked. Surely he'd received some sort of commendable treatment while in custody of this medical incarceration unit.

"Upon your initial entry something to that degree was performed," the doctor agreed, flipping back on his electronic pad to what were surely records of Iason's first admittance," however with the process of healing, there have been several changes made to the structure of tissue and muscular patterns. Also, the healing that occurs to the osteons at the end of the bone can be critical in determining future candidacy."

"What sort of candidacy?"

"Skin grafts, prosthesis, limb transplants are all good indicators of what you can expect if results are favorable. In regards to those criteria, that would be freshness of the site." The doctor revealed, his fingers going through the mass of electronic data, sending out work order requests, his eyes not leaving his pad.

"I recall I was told that I had too much scarring at the base of my ...ah, injury," Iason delicately attempted its reference," to be able to have a proper surgery done."

"As it stands, there would be no way to perform electro-neurosurgery for an mechanical prosthesis. Further amputation, clinical amputation, would be required to even consider something to that degree," the doctor made a final note before rising up to meet the Blondie's eyes.

"You mean to imply, if I should subject myself to another truncating, then I may regain physiological control of my legs?" Iason asked, not sure what to hope.

"Specializing casts would have to be made, and recovery would take some extra time, but it would easily be managed; this can be better spoken of," the doctor glanced at the hallway where hospice technicians slid through the doorway gently, with a spartan, elongated bed furnished with wheels at its bottom base," after tests are performed and results are given back. After that, I and the medical team can speak with more confidence about your possible options in regards to the remainder of your stay here at our facility. "

Iason nodded his understanding with a bare tilt of the head. Gently, he was transferred with brute strength onto the gurney; a hand was held on his shoulder to assure that with his altered balance, he did not slip off.

A few turns of the hallways and corridors, and he was settled down into a room with overhead beaming equipment. A few shots and positions later, a changing of chemical sheets and projectors saw the end of that task quickly. Iason was wheeled back into his room and settled back into his bed.

A subtle sniff revealed that he was on newly laid sheets. He could imagine after a few days of induced sedation that they would leave an odor all their own lingering. That was, not in addition to the special touch Iason added to it.

Iason allowed himself to settle back, taking a deep breath before his next interruption.

"You have visitors, Sir Iason," an unfamiliar attendant announced.

Iason gave a calm nod while he knew exactly who had come to call. Or someone's. He could even hear a voice of a certain well known body approaching. As did the attendant, who looked back uncertain at the encroaching noise.

"I have been expecting them," Iason said by way of acquiescence.

The attendant nodded then quickly disappeared. He was ill at ease, it seemed to deal with the task of secretary. Iason felt aware that his position perhaps made it more difficult on others of the world to serve him as he should be. As untrained as he was, the attendant was still successful. Moments later he returned with the accustomed, striking form of a Blondie.

"Raoul," Iason greeted. "Glad to know you could make it."

"I'm here," Raoul nodded by show of acknowledgment.

"And my Pet?" Iason wondered at the golden silence.

"I put the Pet ring restriction to a force where he is silent and rooted in place to the floor," Raoul stated. "I'm more than sure he was heard from our entrance to your quarters."

"He was" Iason allowed ," But I had hoped for an audience with him immediately."

"Do you prefer his company to mine?" Raoul responded in a tone that was puzzling to Iason. He gave his friend an inquisitive glance. Raoul was ... hurt?

"Don't tell me you feel jealous of the boy," Iason asked in a voice that resonated a sort of dismissal. The idea was ridiculous to say the least. Another glimpse at his friend revealed something different. "Surely you can't."

"Would it be so hard to believe?" Raoul asked, his face displaying a rare show of anger and affronted ...stricken.

"Yes." This was said in a tone that left no room for a counter argument. Iason saw no reason for any sort of envious actions on part of his Blondie friend.

"Iason, do you have any idea the toll he's exacted on nearly every aspect of your life? You spent any time unnecessary to work with that creature, either bedding or devising another mind game for that trash. You ruined your position and the reputation as Jupiter's chosen, and your health, most obviously." Raoul took a contemptuous glare around the room.

"Surely you can't complain that I'm alive," Iason posed rationally," If I had died? Would that have been preferable?"

"If you had died, Iason, that mongrel and his whore of a companion would not have survived," Raoul's eyes shone dangerously.

"Then I would think my death was a waste, under those circumstances," Iason smiled to himself, the gesture angering Raoul more on some internal level," Considering how it all happened. I would at least want my Pet taken care of. Riki's bothersome stalker could be dealt with as you saw fit."

Iason paused, and took a look at his angry goading friend. There was a shift in his demeanor suggesting a great sense of pleased accomplishment.

"Just what has become of him?"

"What was deserved and just," Raoul took on a self satisfied appearance.

Iason allowed himself a small appropriate chuckle. "While I would love to guess at your wily games of what your sense of fitting justice is, I'd rather continue this in a more timely manner," Iason stated.

"I've arranged it so that he spends his days serving the sentence his betters have bestowed upon him," Raoul looked regal and dangerous at that moment. There was little question who the 'betters' were; Raoul had already announced he'd passed sentence and judgment. He stood at attention, his shoulders squared, his gaze level with Iasons.

Iason waited for his next words, the sense of waiting deep and heavy.

"In the filthiest bordello of the suburban slums, catering to the truly degenerate. Eighteen hours of forced service to those on par with the same dimensions of Guy's nefarious miscreant."

Iason blinked for a moment. He then grinned, and gave a short guffaw.

"Why, Raoul, I didn't know you knew such places. Surely you'll enlighten me about the sorts of establishments you visit. " Iason felt a surge of amusement.

"I don't!" Raoul was quick to protest. "I used that retired Furniture of yours to locate me a business of the most overwhelming disrepute."

"Katze retains his good points," Iason idly commented. "He wasn't angry to have to do that to his slum associates?"

"It wouldn't have mattered," Raoul commented truthfully. A lower class citizen would have to obey regardless of personal feelings," He was more than just a small bit angry. A lot of citizens were. A Blondie organized lynching was proposed before abandoned upon hearing your recovery."

"Truly now?" Iason thought with no small degree of amusement. "How lovely it is to know I am so endeared to the masses."

"The masses which have been barred from seeing you until Jupiter deems it acceptable," Raoul informed him in a dry tone.

"And you?" Iason asked.

"Since you were so kind to name me your Executive Proprietor, then I retain the joy and privilege of keeping your company, and that of your Pet's," Raoul continued in the same dry tone.

"It shows... the honor you feel," Iason replied in an accepting tone.

Iason allowed himself a dry chuckle.

"While we're on the subject, will you consider bringing in Riki? I'm sure you've given him enough in exertion of authority." Iason requested.

"Can't you wait for a while longer? Hold off on his coddling . I wish to discuss what they've been doing here for you."

"There is nothing to say." Iason dismissed with a motion of his hand," Before you arrived, I had just returned from their testing. There are no results though the doctor in charge did mention something about reconstruction."

"Yes, something about that was mentioned," Raoul didn't look ready to give up the fight "However the -"

"My 'good behavior' was contingent on seeing Riki, was it not?" Iason broke through with his own set of drabble, short and cold. "I have gone through with the examinations and the laser shots. Would you be so unsporting as to renege on your part of the agreement?"

The other Blondie looked mortified, and then angry. To suggest a failed agreement between Blondies to another of the fair haired Elites was a deep insult -- though no worse than to not go through with it at all.

Raoul's face took on a deep impassivity, intense even for a Blondie. Only a furrow at his brow gave away his agitated feelings.

"Very well," he responded in a slitted voice.

"Have Riki sent here; By the time I discuss what is needed with my Pet, then the examination results will be returned. A decision will be made by all logical parties in this matter." Iason spun his words in a confident tone. "I have been assured that they won't be long."

Raoul gave a bare nod, a short inclination of his head, before leaving the room. Iason held his air, awaiting the open and shut of the door to reveal the dark, mussed head of his mongrel heart.

He wasn't disappointed.

Though it may have seemed like an irreparably long amount of time, Iason knew logically that it was really only few minutes. The door opened. Initially, the Blondie was startled. Raoul's buttery tresses were the first sight he encountered. But then, he saw a much shorter, darker head only at his friend's shoulder... Riki.

The mongrel's eyes lit up at the sight. A quick whisper into his ear by the taller figure, and then he was released. The door clicked shut and then there was silence.

Silence, however, until the sound of racing feet broke the mute calm.

"Iason!" a husky voice sounded, suddenly wrapped around Iason's lower torso, and pressing back against the pillows, so intense was the force.

"Riki" the Elite breathed into the dark locks, hands coming around to clasp him tight.

******

We like? Less droopy medical bits? Sorry for the delay, Dreamer ^^;;