The Horseman of Conquest

outoftheend: I kind of hate to have to do this, but it most be dealt with immediately. I have just updated my rules with the following:

IMPORTANT NOTICE: Until further notice, no smut related things will be tolerated on this blog unless explicitly and extensively discussed about before hand. Under no circumstance will I tolerate fic/fanfic/drabbles/stories/etc. about my characters in sexual situations without discussion and my explicit permission first. Thank you.

a ragged breath dragged through asthmatic lungs         dragging daggers through them as well.

connect                                     your static      t       h              u                            t                    o                       gh                    s

back to your                          BODY.

In four.    Out four.    In four.    Out four.    In four.                                                                                      Don’t choke.

     “my head hurts…                                     chest too small.”

there was a sound of shifting effort in the small space. olivier couldn’t breathe right - it was getting too small in there, as if the world was shrinking while it was spinning out of control. he was going to use up all the air; he just knew it. the breathing started to spiral out of control again as black was swimming before his vision. he had to open the closet door. blood slicked hands scrabbled at the lock with disregard for the slivers of glass in them.  

it clicked open.

Conrad heard the lock click. Reaching up, he slowly turned the doorknob and let the door creak open. He could hear sharp inhales and the rasp of breath as Olivier panicked and attempted to breath. Pushing on the door, he let it swing open. It swung out slowly, and came to a stop with barely a creak. 

Light filled the small closet and Conrad could see Olivier. His eyes were glassy, only filled with panic. There was really no light in them; were there any on upstairs? Just like a scarecrow. His body was froze; his joints needed oiling. So much like a tin man. And he could see fear written all over the boy, and rolling off him in waves. A lion as well.

Conrad reached a hand out, before placing on the ground in front of Olivier. His palm faced down. “Olivier? Can you hear me?” he asked. He could see little glass shards embedded in those hands. He’d need to take him to Seth- or a normal hospital. 

The only family Olivier could count as such was buried in a quiet grave in a small churchyard. Renee Perrier had been his mother figure for almost five years before she died at age 79. Olivier had not seen his birth family since he was sixteen; they had never treated him like family anyway. His final interaction with them was them leaving him for dead and that’s the way he would stay.

“I’m really not the kind of person to be classified as dangerous. I’m a ballet instructor who has fits of asthma, and I’m also a pacifist. At my size, I’m really not much use for anything of that sort anyway.” He replied with a soft laugh in his voice. Standing at 5′5″ with a history of abuse, Olivier was not cut out to even try to be a threat to anyone else.

A pacifist. Well, that would keep him out of any trouble, or from causing any more. However, the only problem would be if Sonny was serious. Would a pacifist protect himself if he became a target?  Time would tell, Conrad supposed. 

“You work at the dance studio in the town? I don’t believe I’ve seen you teaching there before,” Conrad commented. He flipped the ledger back open and started to read the numbers again. 

He would wait for Olivier to finish his drink before he kicked him out. Though, perhaps kicking him out was a bit too harsh. The older man contemplated and then decided he would wait for Olivier to finish drinking his tea and then would walk him out while closing up the Shack.

The words drifted through the door, echoing in his ears.    He could hear the command, but he couldn’t move.          Nothing felt real right now.                   Paranoia could be a bitch.

             There was blood on his hands. This time, it wasn’t a hallucination. Conrad could find a broken mirror with a fist sized hole in it. Olivier wasn’t a violent person - he couldn’t even hit a punching bag. Ironic that the only thing it seemed he was willing to punch was his own reflection.

 The sound of breathing from inside the closet was fast and erratic.                     It started to even out, if only a bit.     The shaking boy was doing his best to try and figure what was     reality and what was his mind. The slight fever he had developed                            may not have been helping.

In four.    Out four.    In four,    Out four.

“  I         don’t               feel                    well…”

        his voice was small, scratchy and quavering.

Looking around from his seated position, he could find the tornado of emotions that had swept through the apartment before settling Olivier in a nightmarish Oz of its own creation. 

Small little slivers of glass glinted on the floor like jewels, trailing along to a hoard of shards, jagged and threatening. Even with the distance, Conrad could see the red coating them, turning glass to ruby. 

Blood. 

Quietly, Olivier’s voice drifted through the door pulling the man’s attention away from the one part of Olivier that wasn’t hidden in the closet. If there had been any other noise in the home, Conrad might have missed it. He considered just demanding that Olivier open the door but-- that had never worked with Sonny and he doubted it would work with this blond.

Olivier hesitated a moment as he gathered the answers. He hoped this wasn’t some weird test. “Sonny doesn’t like discussing what the family business is - he’s only told me they are rich and…..scary.” The words were almost exactly Sonny’s phrasing. “His aunt owns the restaurant and inn in town.” he still didn’t know that sonny’s uncle cecil had kidnapped and beat him, sonny having lied on who it was.

“Sonny runs the Shack. He loves surfing and does gymnastics - we do yoga together too. He had a panic attack once when I was injured and I’m still not sure why, but we worked through it together.” What else was he supposed to say? That Sonny could catch marshmallows in his mouth, looked adorable when cuddling Olivier’s cat, and his blush made his ears turned red? That he could sing every word to the pop songs on the radio? That sleeping net to Sonny was like being wrapped in a heating blanket?

“I don’t have any family.”

That was all he would leave that statement as.

Well, that least Sanford had learned to not talk about his family for the most part. And Olivier seemed to know just enough about Sanford to actually maybe seem to be serious. He had told Olivier just enough to be honest, but not enough to put any of Conrad or Cassiopeia’s businesses in jeopardy. 

No family though, that was certainly interesting.

“No family by choice or situation?” Conrad. He didn’t really care, but he did want to know. What he really actually needed was to know that this kid didn’t have any ulterior motives.

It had not been a good day.

Olivier was having one of his Bad Days. Everything ached in him. Any sound made his head ring and paranoia was gnawing angrily on his bones. He had told Sonny he wasn’t feeling well, letting his boyfriend go off to work. 

Two panic attacks later, Olivier wasn’t sure how he had ended up locking himself in the closet with Sonny’s dad standing outside, and he’s not sure he wanted to know, either.

“………….”

It had not been a good day. 

From the beginning to end, it was a Bad Day. The morning had been spent dealing with Cassiopeia, and her asinine idea to buy another hotel except this time she wanted to plaster her name on it. The midday was spent listening to a number of goons try to tell him how to run his business. Then there were fists and bullets and finally, calling Seth to come do his damn job.

And now, two phone very long phone calls later, Sanford had managed to annoy his father to the point that Conrad was actually bothering to check on Olivier. Because Sanford was worried he was sick or wasn’t doing well. So, Conrad was checking on Olivier.

Olivier, who had been panicking when Conrad waltzed right into Sanford’s apartment. Which only managed to drive the boy into hiding. That was how Conrad ended up on the outside of a closet door, attempting to coax the boy out of it.“I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeated. Granted, the pistol in his pocket with its wonderful gold plating probably didn’t make that seem like the truth. He sighed though, and knocked on the door. “Olivier, breathe to an eight count. Inhale for four, then exhale for four.” The boy did dance; maybe that would pull him out of a panic. 

“ thank you. ”

The mug was taken between to slender hands. Watching the tall man make a cuppa reminded him vaguely of Sonny. The way they shifted slightly more to the left as he grabbed a tea bag. He pinked ever so slightly at the question, taking a light sip of the tea before answering.

“ a relationship. i really hope that our next couple of dates go well, and then if he feels the same we’ll start dating. ”

He watched as the younger man’s cheeks turned pink. A relationship? Conrad almost rolled his eyes. Sanford had tried to have those before; was this boy serious? “Alright. But tell me three things: one, what do you know about Sanford’s family? Two, what do you know about Sanford? And three, what are your own family ties?”

“yes sir, that’s me.”

The man almost reminded Olivier of his own Father in an unsettling way. But this man did not have the same cruel look in his eye, nor was he so cold. Just….business-like. And Olivier could deal with that quite well.            “you must be sonny’s father, then. pleased to make your acquaintance.” He offered a hand to the taller man.        “tea, usually. i don’t drink coffee.”

After a moment, Conrad took his hand. It was more of just a long hold, but he didn’t do anything more to scare him. Gold rings glinted in the light of The Shack until he pulled his hand away.

“Mister Ra. Pleasure.”

Conrad look around for a moment. He flipped a machine on, and soon hot water was pouring into a cup he had set below. Looking high, the man eyed the number of teas found on the shelf. Reaching up, he paused over a small tea box decorated in bright green and red with a gold letter S on the side. 

“Sanford has been on about you nonstop. Pretty much since you met, I believe.”

But he kept moving, and instead pulled down a bag of Egyptian chamomile. He placed a bag into the hot water and handed the steeping tea off to the new blond.

Olivier had decided to drop by and visit Sonny at work - The Shack had quickly become one of his favorite places to be in town as long as Sonny was there. Humming sweetly, the door was pushed open. He was confused, however, to find the little shop empty except for a dapper man sitting reviewing paperwork. This was….odd.

     “Oh! I’m terribly sorry for intruding then.” He bowed his head apologetically after flashing a sheepish, dimpled smile. “I was looking for Sonny, actually. If he’s with his mother though, I suppose I shouldn’t bother him.” Family seemed important to Sonny and he’d hate to make a bad impression.

      “I’ll leave you to your business, sir.”

The ledger closed with a quick snap, and Conrad was looking up. “You must be Olivier.” He gave Oliver a much more thorough review. 

“Well, since you’ve already come here, we might as well get you something. Sanford will cry if I tell him I just sent you away,” he said. The man stood, looming as he stood almost a foot taller than Olivier. He motioned for Olivier to follow, leading the small man to the kitchen. The ledger was taken with them and placed on the counter with a register as they passed. 

Amber eyes gave him a once over as the wrong blond walked in through the front of the restaurant, small bells announcing his entry. Blond hair too pale and too straight, eyes not a bright blue, frame too slim, and so many differences. 

Conrad lowered his gaze back down to the accounting ledger he was reviewing. It didn’t really matter how The Shack did, but Sonny didn’t know that. Conrad would at least make a show of it for his son.