Chapter Text
The frigid air of the clear, sunny morning nipped at his skin. The sun shone high in the sky, though it did little to warm the air or BigB’s naked body. The peaks around them, just a few minutes by car, already shone with freshly dusted snow from the night before.
Pearl sat back with a drink he’d made her earlier. Mango and passion fruit, blended with some chunks in, unsweetened milk and whipped cream. The exact way he knew she liked it. Her bichromate gaze was sharp on his trembling form, ready to judge every twitch.
BigB had been allowed a towel for the walk over, the morning dew freezing underneath his bare feet. Now, it lay folded to the side, ready to be used later. The sweat on his back from his first half of training clung freezing to his skin, enough so that he wouldn’t be surprised to find it iced over, too.
“Begin.”
A single order set him in motion, more precise than a machine. Pearl’s voice was curt, though no less melodic. Clear and vibrant in the early morning air.
The warm up exercises from earlier felt useless, his body trembling in the cold weather and muscles stiffening again with it, but BigB didn’t hesitate to jump into the pool. Graceful, careful not to send the water splashing out.
It was like being doused in ice, the cold so sharp it became painful. It’d felt like it for some days already now though, it was easy enough to push past. His first few laps, meant as an additional warm up, were like treading through molasses. He was quick, moving from one edge of the pool to another with grace- but not quick enough.
He stumbled, a bent arm, legs too stiff to propel him or bend as required. Every little mistake tallied up like rocks in his gut- curling into shame and a slowly dawning knowledge.
BigB didn’t need a timer to know he was behind. He didn’t even need to look at Pearl’s face for confirmation of it. His eyes avoided hers, fear of her disappointment curling in his chest. It didn’t matter how much he pushed, his body refused to follow, the cold overwhelming him.
The shrill alarm pierced the early morning quiet even under the water, startling BigB for just a moment. Barely past halfway through his minimum required laps, that was pathetic.
He pushed himself further, toned arms gliding through the water- cutting it as a knife’s edge through butter. The last few exercises were done quick, almost quick enough to be up to standard. Not that it mattered.
Once he was done, BigB swam his way closer to the edge of the pool, closer to where Pearl sat watching him. Punishment ranged from not getting to lay with her, to repeated reps- BigB wasn’t supposed to think, to attempt and predict her actions, but he knew his Mistress and the look on her face spelled pain.
“That was pathetic, pet. I’ll grant you another chance- From the top. Do try this time.”
BigB wasted no time- his teeth chattered far too much for him to answer verbally anyway. He bowed his head and dove back into the water with renewed vigour. Every word a knife’s edge, cutting into him. His obedience was his pride, to be so pathetic as to need to repeat everything again was more than shameful, it was humiliating.
He tried, he really did. Each stroke, each push of his legs propelling him forward, was filled with determination. To do well by his Mistress, to be worthy of her presence. Shame burned in his chest at his pitiful display- and yet his body moved as if in slow motion. The water wouldn’t, couldn’t, move out of his way fast enough and he struggled to even gain breaths in between strokes through the shivers wrecking his body.
This time the piercing shrill of the alarm came before the halfway point and BigB just- Stopped.
A puppet cut from his strings, he floated in the pool until Pearl’s stern voice came from next to him.
“Up and out. We’ll be discussing this later, go shower.”
BigB didn’t want to move. It was cold. The water was cold but it was familiar. Outside of it, the wind blew and he didn’t want to deal with that. With the cold and the frost that would surely form in his hair if he wasn’t fast enough to wash off.
Still, an order was an order. Pets didn’t have wants or needs, they had orders and obedience. If Pearl said he had to get up, he’d get up.
The walk over to the changing room felt endless. Shame still curled in his chest, and he was glad his stomach never gave out from things such as anxiety, or he would’ve lost his breakfast twice over already. Pearl’s gaze was a sharp, heavy constant, her disappointment dragged him down.
The warm water did little to make his body feel less like ice, the towel even less so. The jog back to the house was just as sluggish as everything else had been.
From there, the day didn’t change much from their standard. He’d gotten a lecture and punishment, his body ached from the cruel kiss of Pearl’s whip and yet- yet here he was, kneeling at her armchair, half-read book in his lap, a different one on Pearl’s.
BigB’s head felt heavy, his body weighted down. Pearl’s leg was wonderfully cool against his burning skin, and something itched at his throat. Somewhere in the recess of his mind where he wasn’t desperate to forget this morning’s fiasco, whispered that he was sick. That swimming in this weather was simply stupid and he’d be fine with some rest.
He’d never been one for much rest.
There hadn’t been time, when he’d been looking after Amelia and Pops. He needed to study, help around the house and the shop and make sure his sister was doing alright. Being home sick just wasn’t an option at the time. Then with his job, double lives and all- It would’ve been a weakness, easily exploited. Hitmen didn’t take sick days.
Now he belonged to Pearl. He was her Pet, and that didn’t stop if he was hurt or unable to stand on his own- Why would it change with just a small cold? How could he justify inconveniencing his Mistress like so?
That mentality dragged him forward one, two, three days- until his head was pounding and the time he got to kneel for passed in a half aware haze, eternal and all ending just as soon as they’d become. The one aspect of his submission he’d struggled with the worst, ripped out from under him. He couldn’t struggle with keeping his eyes off the clock if he wasn’t sure if they were open most of the time, at least.
Standing made him dizzy, he began skipping out on his protein shake and taking longer and longer to eat the bites of food Pearl fed to him- almost throwing them up right after. He was too busy keeping the food down to spot his Mistress’s concerned face.
It all came to a head on the morning of the fourth day, or was it the fifth? He wasn’t sure anymore. It was good that he wasn’t keeping track of the days- couldn’t. He could be good.
BigB woke up, stood to go pray- and fell to his knees. The next time he opened his eyes he was back in bed, and he barely got off it to kneel again, confused, before the whole world started spinning and he was firmly pushed back into the bed.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick??!”
The words took forever to register in BigB’s brain, he felt like was underwater. His ears rang long after the noise had ended, and he clung to the warm covers around him. His skin felt clammy, sweat making the soft fabric of the sheet cling to his body.
He blinked once again, opening his eyes just enough to see Pearl pacing back and forth. Calling a contact, some muffled information. He should be good, useful- and yet he could barely make himself stay awake long enough to make sense of why he was here.
Snippets of conversations filtered through, some he wasn’t sure if real or dreamt. A favour owed, some sort of agreement- Discussion, on if he counted. He wasn’t a person anymore, he was only his Mistress’s- That had made him smile, even as he broke into a nasty cough that made bile sting the back of his throat.
Steps in the room- unfamiliar. Something was sat down beside him, but Pearl’s hand remained steady in holding his. He’d do as his mistress said, and she whispered for him to rest, to get better. He’d never been told to rest before- but he’d follow Pearl’s orders. Nothing else mattered, not truly.
Pretty blond curls fell over his face, tickling his nose a little. There was something on his face, a little scratchy- it seemed to grow whenever he blinked for a little longer. Then something distinctively bitter was forced into his mouth and it made him gag, though he swallowed obediently. Pearl was still nearby, the melody of her voice fading in and out of his awareness, ordering him to drink or begging for him to stay awake a little longer.
Her begging was always the worst. He didn’t like disappointing his Mistress, yet the thought of making his eyes stay open was simply- impossible. Too far out of his reach.
“You can’t just- let him out like that! And this house- it’s far too cold if he’s walking around naked.”
“I called you for medical advice, not to lecture me.”
“Well somebody ought to! You can’t be treating him like a toy to be broken and expecting me to fix him. Those were some really obvious signs to miss.”
BigB didn’t like that tone. Nobody stood up to his Mistress- It simply wasn’t done. If you disagreed with her, you sucked it up or you slowly tried to point out the issue. He wasn't some broken toy.
The tone, the demands- they felt foreign. Wrong. He was fine. He’d be fine and then he’d be at Pearl’s side again, like he was meant to. Darkness claimed him again before he could voice any of those thoughts.
Hushed voices filtered in the next time he woke up, close to him yet low enough he probably wouldn’t have heard them were he not still shaking, hyperaware from a nightmare.
“I don’t- what if he doesn’t wake up, and it’s my fault?”
“He’ll wake up. Have some faith in my work, will you?”
“He just looks- wrong. He shouldn’t look like this-"
“Sickness does that.”
Who were they talking about? It couldn’t have been him- Mistress sounded so distressed, worried. But who else could it be?
BigB was too weak to argue that he was fine, barely sick. He’d worked through worse. Still, the words churned in his stomach. He wasn’t supposed to look like this, She’d said- he was being bad. Making his Mistress upset. The thought iced his veins. He didn’t want to be bad, he wanted to kneel and beg for forgiveness, but his body wouldn’t listen, and soon darkness claimed him once again.
Slowly, it got easier to hold down food and he started to catch more and more snippets of conversations- Little insights on his Mistress and the Doctor. Their relationship, however confusing, was the only thing tethering him to reality other than Pearl’s hand in his own, clinging to it.
The Doctor was a strange woman. She slept at their house, but left to attend to outside business from time to time. She was generally soft spoken and polite- until it was time to chew out his Mistress, that was. Another thing about her was the apparent, appalling, lack of fear of Pearl. It made him glad his Mistress could have somebody to be equals with, just as much as it irked him.
Pearl should be revered. Respected. Fear was part of that, important- It kept those not yet loyal in line and her enemies at bay. It was a tool. And the Doctor did none of that. She was rude to his Mistress, demanded things of her and criticised her decisions about him. He was supposed to be a Pet, nothing more- Pearl’s will was the only thing that should matter.
The Doctor fell out of the strict scheme of the world he’d grown accustomed to, and BigB couldn’t have been more confused about it. Maybe, once he was more coherent- less unsure of what was overheard and what was dreamt. Maybe then he’d understand this strange woman and who she was to his mistress.
Worst of all- Pearl didn’t seem to mind, or even be surprised by the constant disrespect. BigB had seen her put men in the ground or back-breaking conditions for half of what the Doctor did, and yet there seemed to be no consequences. His Mistress started listening to her, almost- agreeing. His only consolation was that it wasn’t just changes for his “health” that were being demanded, but his Mistress’s too.
BigB wasn’t supposed to think, even less so to pass judgement on what his Mistress did or didn’t do. Yet, he couldn’t help but loathe the way she simply refused to take care of herself at times. Not eating, sleeping far too little and spending whole days out in the field fixing other’s mistakes. Never time for her to care for herself.
His morning routines were the only true downtime she allowed herself, and he’d come to treasure them for that, too. A time to simply take care of his Mistress, show his devotion with good food and ironclad discipline.
Awareness of his body came back to him gradually. First of all he was sore. His throat was scratchy and he was parched. Water sat in a glass on his bedside table, followed by Pearl’s fretting.
“Don’t drink too fast, it’s been sitting out, it may be cold. Is the room alright? Does anything hurt, can you feel everything?”
Words weren’t in his scope. He opened his mouth and fell into a coughing fit, prompting more of Pearl’s fretting and an hasty order to not push himself to answer her. She asked each question again, waiting for him to nod or shake his head, then disappeared off to grab some food.
The IV in his arm was taken out shortly after, and he was spoon fed by her- still too weak to sit up on his own. Sleep claimed him soon after.
The Doctor was long gone by the time BigB could sit up on the bed without feeling like he’d run a marathon. He’d only seen her once, though he’d still been too weak to speak.
She’d only given him a few short words about taking care of himself, and not pushing it too hard, which he’d nodded along to because he had to be polite and then promptly disregarded as he forced himself to stay sitting for the rest of the day, despite the burn in his muscles at such a small task.
He was glad for her to be gone. The headaches made keeping his mouth shut harder, and Pearl’s perpetual guilty look only made her comments about “responsibility” and “risking his life” feel all the more bitter. Who was she, to tell his Mistress how to take care of him?
Pearl’s word was law. He should’ve warned her earlier of his symptoms, and it would’ve never gotten that bad. It wouldn’t have gotten bad enough to scare Pearl, or to need that woman in their house.
Despite his feelings, Pearl seemed to hang onto her every word. Or, at least, listen to her opinion. They were basically the same anyway, when it came to his Mistress. Pearl’s time, her attention- they were precious. Scarce resources stretched thin between far too many. So he’d have to be polite, and it was just easier for everybody involved to just skip the problem entirely.
It’d taken BigB a few weeks to stand, and then walk and move around unimpeded. Pearl’s constant attention was nice, it made him feel warm- Even when she didn’t let him get back to his routines for another week, and then greatly restricted them. Precautions, she called them. BigB thought them overboard, but it wasn’t his job to think, so he didn’t say anything.