Vok'Rul began speaking to the cameras before Viktor even realized that they had begun. He jumped a little at the sudden influx of noise, but Vok'Rul merely wrapped his arm around Viktor. He felt a little too confined but figured that it was probably for the best. He really felt like he going to fall over any second.

The reporters and Vok'Rul were talking almost constantly. Rukka hardly spoke up, but when she did, it was often in short sentences. Viktor had no idea when, or even if, he was going to be able to say anything, so he opted to smile at the cameras and do the occasional thumbs up instead. If anyone were watching, hopefully, they'd realize that they'd be okay.

There had been no TVs in the arena. Of course, there would have never been any in the back room where they had all been stored in the first place. But Viktor found that he would've liked seeing that others were being treated well. The worst part about being held captive, in his opinion, was not knowing anything.

He had had no idea if they had been the only humans left alive, if there had been other fighting rings, or even if their fights had been illegal in the first place.

Seeing proof of humanity prospering would've been enough to give him hope.

They were talking about him. Viktor heard his name being thrown around every other word. Whatever it was Vok'Rul was saying made the news anchors coo at him. The camera was definitely angled at him now. It seemed like the perfect time to speak.

"Uhh, hi! I don't know if anyone is watching this, but my name is Viktor," he tried to smile, but it probably came off as a grimace. His headache was killing him. "Everything is okay! Convince them we're sentient. They think we're dumb animals. Learn their language!"

That was all he managed to say before Vok'Rul started speaking again, rubbing one of his claws up and down his arm comfortingly. Viktor fervently hoped that his message had gone out to at least some humans. He didn't know how many had been abducted from Earth, and he suspected that the number of them that had been taken from Earth probably dropped significantly when they had landed.

Diseases had probably run rampant. There had been a lot of people he had never seen before in the corral they had been ushered into. With new people all in one place, their immune systems had probably been too shocked and weak to fight off any new illness. Viktor was no scientist, but even he knew that meeting new people meant the risk of getting new diseases.

It was a wonder none of them had fallen ill in the arena, but he chalked that up to them being so few. It wasn't like they had been touching each other all that often.

Regardless, there were probably fewer humans on this planet than there had been on that weird spaceship. Likely, even fewer had access to any sort of television. Viktor just had to hope that it reached someone.

Vok'Rul and the reporters seemed to finish up. The bubbles in front of their cameras, which glowed with a bright, irritating light, suddenly dimmed, and the crew behind them began packing up. Grateful, Viktor let out a sigh of relief.

"Kohgrash," Vok'Rul called softly, tapping him on the side. Viktor looked at him blearily. That was all the warning he got before the alien was bundling him up in his arms again and stood up. He said a few words to Rukka and Thruul, who nodded. He waited until the reporters were out of the mansion before sighing heavily.

Viktor looked up at Vok'Rul's face, heavy with stress and concern. It probably sucked to rule a country. Planet. Whatever.

"Hey," he piped up, patting the alien a bit awkwardly. His arms were squashed between his own body and Vok'Rul's. "It'll be okay."

Vok'Rul smiled at him, expression complex. It looked like a mixture of fear, worry, and happiness, all rolled into one. Viktor offered him a smile in return, shaky and pained, but genuine nonetheless.

***

As expected, it took nearly a week for his headache to go away. He had lost his dizziness and constant need for sleep around day three, thankfully. All that meant, though, was that he was able to stay awake with his headache instead of sleeping it off. At least Vok'Rul was keeping him company.

Viktor wasn't sure what the aliens knew about their physiology, but he was certain they didn't know much about their brains. Hell, even he didn't know much about his brain. Why did certain shadows morph into Oorah, ready to pounce, on the edges of his vision? Why did the way Vok'Rul walked sometimes remind him of the ringmaster stomping over to his cell?

Regardless, Vok'Rul seemed to understand that lights and loud noises irritated Viktor's concussion. During the week, he walked quieter, making sure to pick up his tail to prevent the familiar swishing of it dragging behind him with every step. If he turned on a light, he made sure to grab Viktor his blanket, which the teenager had greatly appreciated. The alien spoke softly, ensuring that he was as far away as he could be before raising his voice if he needed to.

It was nice, he supposed. The little things like that were things that Viktor had always appreciated.

Had they not visited Sonja, Viktor was certain that he'd have been nearly overwhelmed with Vok'Rul's well-meaning but annoying concern. The tall alien worried from afar, making sure that his food bowl was full of nice, soft fruits. He wasn't smothered. It was a breath of fresh air, frankly. Vok'Rul was nothing but nice and kind to Viktor.

At least, there was someone around him that had manners. Viktor couldn't say that about everyone.

He had heard Thruul stomping around in the kitchen downstairs most mornings, afternoons, and nights during the week he had been laid up, making the most ear-piercing racket known to man. When he had finally been able to walk around without too much pain, he had stomped halfway down the stairs and thrown that color-changing orb right into the food he had been cooking. His orb had been ruined (which was a shame, really; Viktor had been aiming for Thruul's head), but the cook had gotten his point. Quieter mealtimes had rewarded him.

Apparently, having a servant that easily infiltrated the mansion's ranks gave the cook cause for concern. Now that Viktor and he had met on more amicable terms, the large alien was welcomed back into the kitchen. Viktor could practically feel Vok'Rul's gratitude to the other alien. He probably couldn't cook very well.

Regardless, Thruul was loud. Even with the ball attack. It was really annoying.

Viktor hadn't figured out what had been on those papers. They had to be important or at least contain information that hadn't been previously known to Vok'Rul, because oftentimes, Viktor would wake up in the middle of the night to see soft light pouring through the slats of his closet door. Pushing them open to investigate had revealed Vok'Rul pouring over the papers tirelessly.

It didn't matter what time of day it was. The few days after Viktor had retrieved the papers had seen Vok'Rul constantly scribbling, typing, and calling others. He was certain that if he hadn't been concussed and suffering from the worst headache he's ever experienced, Rukka would have been up here along with him. As it was, he had heard her down in the kitchen below most days Vok'Rul could bear to part from him.

During the times Viktor couldn't stand to be out of his bed, curled up neatly under his blanket, but unable to sleep, he came up with what could've been on those papers. The alien had seemed determined and insistent to get out of the mansion with them.

Maybe they had been full of notes of the entrances and exits of the mansion, and the alien had been a spy for some underground government coup. Or, it had been the best way to lace the water supply with cyanide (if they even had cyanide on this planet).

Brainstorming was fun and all, but it was more enjoyable with a group. It wasn't the first time Viktor missed Pedro, Aiko, and Ezekiel, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. At least he had Nikolas again. Sort of.

Now, Vok'Rul was once again at his desk, soft light emanating from his computer. The sky slowly darkened outside, and Viktor knew that eventually, the alien would get up to flick the overhead lamps on, feeding him on his way. This week, Viktor would lay about in bed, trying to sleep off most of the symptoms. It had been easier earlier, but now that he was basically fully healed (at least, as well as someone without medical care could be healed), the teenager was antsy.

"Hey!" Viktor said, jumping to his feet and grabbing his dish on the way up. He walked over to Vok'Rul, who had his head propped up tiredly in one hand. His claws were tapping repetitively on his temple, and Viktor had to wonder why there wasn't a dent in his skull by now. At his call, Vok'Rul's yellow eyes slid from the papers sprawled along the desk (seriously, it was a mess up there) to meet Viktor's. The teenager received a tiny, half smile.

Vok'Rul leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He stretched, raising his arms over his head before dropping them into his lap. He stared at the papers on his desk for a long moment before dragging his gaze to Viktor again. Viktor shook the empty dish insistently.

"Rohsh, Kohgrash," Vok'Rul said, asking a question right after. Viktor tilted his head in confusion, but Vok'Rul didn't elaborate, merely chuckling and pushing back from the desk instead. "Norish," he said slowly, holding out his hand for the dish.

Viktor's hands spasmed around the dish, as they always did. It was hard giving up a weapon, but Vok'Rul was safe. He handed it over with only the slightest hesitation.

Vok'Rul bent at the waist to pat Viktor on the head, stepping out from behind the desk. His tail slid from his chair with a swish and landed with a dull thump on the floor. Viktor followed the tail as Vok'Rul walked over to the bag of food sequestered in the corner. The fruit was downstairs in the weird fridge.

This time, though, instead of giving Viktor the dish after he scooped some of the jerky into it, Vok'Rul kept walking out of the room. He turned to look over his shoulder at the human, gesturing for him to come here with his free hand.

Shrugging to himself, Viktor followed. He wasn't that hungry, but he knew that Vok'Rul probably needed the break. Those papers were sucking the life out of the alien. Besides, he was finally feeling better. Adventure never hurt anyone.

Well, he thought, rubbing the scabbing cut on his forehead. It could hurt a little.

The bandage on his head had itched something fierce around the fourth day, and Viktor had peeled it off, not without Vok'Rul's protests. Short of bringing Viktor back to the vet's though, he couldn't do anything. It wasn't like his head was pouring blood, so the alien had let him be.

"Downstairs?" Viktor complained once he saw where the alien was leading him. He glared balefully at the spiral staircase. Sure he felt alright now, but falling down the stairs was not something he wanted to repeat. His bruises from his last tumble down the stairs had just faded!

"Kohgrash?" Vok'Rul asked, already on the steps. Viktor sighed, opted to just take it slow, and started on the stairs after him.

By the time he got down, Thruul and Rukka were already in the kitchen. Thruul was (quietly) making some sort of soup dish. Chunks of meat were being tossed in right and left. It made Viktor wonder what sort of farms they had on this planet. Rukka was chatting with Vok'Rul in the kitchen doorway, leaning on it with an air of relaxation. Her eyes flickered toward Viktor, but she looked away when he squinted at her.

Vok'Rul himself was at the fridge, tapping on the display easily. It still baffled Viktor how that fridge worked, and he was a bit enraptured when it opened and spun to reveal his fruit. "So cool," he said under his breath, watching carefully as Vok'Rul grabbed some slices of the purple apple and dropped them into his dish.

"Mor ta lyr, cho'k," Vok'Rul said, handing him the dish and gently carding his claws through Viktor's hair. The human tolerated it for a second, offering the alien a smile before he ducked out of reach. He settled behind the spiral staircase, sitting cross-legged, and began eating leisurely.

He was putting on some more weight now that he had good food any time he'd like. He wasn't quite the weight he was before he had been abducted, but his ribs and joints weren't as prominent as they were when he had first stepped foot into Vok'Rul's mansion. His muscles were getting less defined unless he flexed them, but Viktor found that he liked them that way. It was one less reminder of where he'd been.

The scars were another matter.

He had always preferred long, baggy clothing, and here was no exception. This planet was colder than Earth, and the multiple-layer clothing (even if it was made for the kids of this species) was appreciated. It helped that they were long-sleeved and hid most of the scars he had gotten on his arms. Oorah's ragged bite mark marring his arm was something that he didn't try to look at if he could help it.

Rukka said something to Vok'Rul, bringing Viktor out of his less-than-happy thoughts. Idly, he chewed on some of the fruit while they bickered back and forth. He got the feeling they were talking about him, especially since Rukka was gesturing to him and glancing in his direction every so often. He hoped it was nothing bad, though.

The noise made by Thruul slowly came to a stop as he finished the stew. Viktor switched his attention over to the large, well-meaning alien. He was grabbing bowls and cutlery from around the kitchen as if he knew it inside out. He probably did. Thruul said something to the bickering pair of siblings that made them both huff and move toward the alien almost in sync.

They took some of the dishes from Thruul's arms and set the table out in the dining room from the kitchen. Viktor took the opportunity of the empty kitchen as a chance to investigate what was in that stew. It smelled heavenly.

Unable to grab a chair from the other room, Viktor decided that the best plan of action would be to run and jump. The counters were high, well over his head, but he had mastered the art of jumping over moving targets in the arena. Grabbing a ledge couldn't be too hard, right?

The kitchen wasn't that wide, so he'd have only a few steps before he'd be at the counter. Thankfully, the drawers littered throughout the counter had large enough knobs for his feet.

Viktor got to his feet, dusting off his hands. His cast would be a bit annoying, but his fingers were mostly free, so he was sure it'd be fine. He hopped in place for a moment before backing up a few paces. He lowered his center of gravity for a moment before he was off like a shot toward an empty countertop. Once he was a step away, Viktor jumped with all his might, managing to grab the countertop. Pressing his feet against the counter gave him the needed leverage to hoist himself the rest of the way.

"Nice," he smiled to himself, swinging his legs off the counter for a moment before pulling them up under him. He crawled over to the stove, careful not to touch any part of it (he had no idea how the faucet worked on this planet, he was not chancing burns from the stove). The stew was in a large metallic pot, not unlike the ones on Earth.

Viktor had to marvel at the pure similarities between this planet and his. He had yet to see fire, rain, or anything natural that was also seen on Earth, but they had what seemed to be electricity, metal, plastic, and a bunch of other stuff that they also had. It was bizarre.

And also sort of relieving. As Viktor peered over the pot of stew, heat brushing against his cheeks, he supposed that he was grateful that he could see the similarities. He might have gone crazy if there was nothing human about this planet.

"Kohgrash!" he jumped in fright at the sudden noise, whipping his head around to see Vok'Rul. The alien looked exasperated, hands on his hips. Rukka and Thruul were behind him, both sporting smiles.

"Hi, rohsh," Viktor said, offering the alien a smile when he came closer. "Smells good," he said, pointing at the stew.

Vok'Rul reached out, and Viktor let the alien grab him under the arms. Instead of dropping him gently on the floor, however, the alien held him up to his face. Uncomfortable, Viktor frowned at him, grabbing onto his forearms. The alien said something to him, sternly, and Viktor huffed at him, rolling his eyes. He started to wriggle in the alien's grasp, trying to get down.

"Kora, Kohgrash!" Vok'Rul bit out. He said something else, but Viktor couldn't hear him. All the air had gotten sucked out of the room.

An odd keening noise met his ears, and he realized that it was coming from him. His fingers were digging into the alien's forearms hard enough that he was sure they would break. Viktor quickly brought up his legs, kicking Vok'Rul hard enough in the chest to make him drop the teenager. He had to get away. He had to get away.

There was a sharp cracking noise, and Viktor heard himself whimper before he even realized that the sound was his head connecting with the floor. He threw up his arms to protect himself, pushing himself back into a corner before he even knew what he was doing. Belatedly, he realized how odd it was that there was a corner in the arena to even push himself to.

Something stepped toward him, and he flinched violently, words tearing out of his throat, "No, no, stop. Stop." His hands trembled in front of him, and he hated the ringmaster, he hated him, hated him so much.

But no blows from the ringmaster came, and eventually, Viktor convinced himself to open his eyes. His hands were shaking, splayed out in a feeble attempt to catch the leash. His breathing was ragged, chest heaving. His head started to hurt something fierce.

He wasn't in the arena. There was no ringmaster in front of him, smirking cruelly at him. No leash was raised to strike him. There were no soft encouragements from the humans behind him. It was just the kitchen inside Vok'Rul's mansion.

And Vok'Rul himself. He was crouching on the ground in front of Viktor, whispering soft words repeatedly. Viktor met his eyes and immediately felt hot shame well up in his chest. He dropped his hands, curling them into fists to hide their trembling. He pulled his legs up to his chest, hugging his knees tightly. He dug his nails into his skin, just to remind himself that this was real.

Vok'Rul kept speaking softly, his voice wavering as if he were the one suffering through this weird flashback. He sounded so genuinely upset on Viktor's behalf that the teen felt the familiar hot prickling of tears behind his eyes. He had to look away, lest he dissolved into tears right there.

"Cho'k," he heard Vok'Rul say, slowly reaching out to him. Viktor couldn't help the flinch that wrestled its way out of his body. Vok'Rul retracted his hand as if it had been burned.

"Rul," Rukka said, taking a half step forward. Thruul had already taken the stew off the stove and had long gone. Viktor was grateful for that, at least. He probably would've regressed into another panic attack if the ringmaster's lookalike was hovering over him.

Vok'Rul said something sharply to her, and Viktor twitched. The alien backed off, standing up. He held himself stiffly, expression hard. Viktor felt icy guilt worm its way into his gut. He had done that. Vok'Rul gave the teenager another glance over before both aliens left the room.

Viktor sat on the floor of the kitchen, disquieted. He could hear the three aliens eating in the dining room, voices sounding muted. Viktor took the time to get his breathing under control, trying to remember how Pedro used to breathe with him after the ringmaster had gotten his hands on him.

After what seemed like twenty minutes of nothing but his ragged breathing filling the room, Viktor uncurled from the ball he had scrunched himself in. He lay on the cold floor, exhausted and guilty.

***

Vocabulary:

cho'k: endearment, usually meaning little one, love; usually used for pets or small children

kora: bad or naughty, a light scolding

mor ta lyr: here you go

norish: food

rohsh: a friendly greeting, such as hello or hey