moe81 | xxxholic fic

Title: Slave Labour

Rating: PG

Pairing: Doumeki/Watanuki

A/N: Prisoner!AU

Summary: Doumeki is stuck with no way home.

The sun beat down harshly against the rocky ground and Shizuka wiped the sweat from his brow, sure that the dirty sleeve was leaving streaks in its wake. A whip cracked behind him and he clenched his teeth, refusing to look back. He'd already made that mistake several times and all he'd received for his concern were stripes from a sound lashing.

He heaved the axe and shovel over his shoulder and trudged uphill to the cave. He steadfastly ignored the bodies on the side of the path - four in total - but still silently said a prayer for each. The darkness closed around him as he stepped through the entrance and his breathing automatically became shallower, lest he suck up a lungful of stale air and choke. An automatic reaction. He'd been here too long and still there was no way out in sight.

He made his way further into the dank hole, passing children, women and old men, each and every one of them carrying a blank and hopeless expression. It teared him up inside, knowing that he couldn't fight his way out of this, fight for them.

By the pale lantern light he twisted through several turns, the place becoming more and more like a maze with every passing day, until he eventually came upon a group of men working away at a solid wall. One of them turned to him as his shadow fell over the packed dirt under their feet and gave him a genial nod. He returned it and set to work in one of the far corners. His axe scraped over the mass of rock, limestone and dirt, bits slowly coming away under the force.

The rhythmic motion allowed his mind to wander and wander it did. To the only place he was happy; a time when the world was set, well mostly right and his days were spent ensuring the safety of one person.

Kimihiro's face brightened in his mind; a small smile and a faint blush followed by an energetic shouting and spazzing combination. He continued to remember, the smallest of details keeping his heart light enough that his prison wouldn't destroy the life within him.

A more exuberant hit against the wall and dirt drifted from the roof, dropping lightly onto his head. He rubbed the heel of a hand into his eyes and told himself that it was the dirt making him tear up and not the empty space at his side.