The Flesh Cartel #5: Wins and Losses

silent affirmation—Yes, to save Dougie, I’d do anything, give up anything, put aside anything, even my pride, the one thing here I have left, the one thing that makes me human—because he frowned.
“I see you recognize the validity of the premise here, Mathias. Give up some part of yourself, let go of your pride, or die protecting it. But you cannot let Douglas be your only motivation. Maybe before he was your only reason for carrying on in the face of your bleak, rootless existence, but not anymore. What happens when I split you up? What—”
“You wouldn’t.” Half ordering, half begging. Mat added, “Please. Sir. Please,” to tip the scales in the direction Nikolai was more likely to tolerate, but Nikolai kept on as if Mat hadn’t interrupted.
“But I will, Mathias. I intend to. And what would you fight for then? If you didn’t have your brother to stay alive for, what would keep you going? What would motivate you to make the concessions I ask of you then?”
Good question. Mat shrugged. “I don’t know, sir. Nothing, probably.”
“So you’d keep your pride and let it kill you. Or you’d let yourself be broken.”
“I’d die before you broke me.” Fucker. And yet, Mat couldn’t help but feel like that was a lie, all bluster. Enough of that serum and who knew what kind of whimpering animal he’d become. What kind of indignity he’d reduce himself to.
“So let’s assume I accept the premise that you’d die before you let yourself be broken—which I don’t, by the way, because I have never failed to break a man once I’ve set my mind to such, and the only reason you can hope for different is because I don’t intend to break you. But since you don’t believe me, fine. Without Douglas to live for, you die.”
Got it in one.
“And what if, after a period of separation, you somehow have an opportunity to be reunited with Douglas? Wouldn’t you want to stay alive, just in case?”
Oh. Well that shifts the goalposts a bit, doesn’t it, you slippery fucker? Not that he was willing to let Nikolai know that, so he just shrugged and said, “Yeah, I guess.”
“What I’m asking of you is simple, Mathias: accept that you may never see your brother again—”
“But you just said—!”
“All hypothetical, Mathias. Possibilities, not guarantees. So accept that you may never see him again, but don’t let that acceptance destroy your will to live. Find another reason. Living is more of a habit than most give it credit for. If you never see your brother again, if he die—”
“Don’t. Don’t say that.”
Mat realized he’d thrust his finger at Nikolai and forced himself to put his arm down. His hand curled into a fist, but he held himself back. Waited for Nikolai to lose his temper, punish him for interrupting for a second time.
He didn’t. Merely leaned back in his chair, stretched his legs out under the table, folded his arms across his chest. “You must face facts, Mathias. These things happen. You cannot keep living your life for a boy you’ll likely never see again. For a boy who won’t want to see you. I know you don’t believe me,” Nikolai added before Mathias could interrupt again, “but you’ll learn soon enough. You must start living for yourself, and it cannot be pride alone that sustains you because that too may be beyond your grasp someday. So you must find your own joys. Find them and share them with me that I might share them with you.”
Like hell he’d share fucking anything with this fucker.
“Or not”—Nikolai shrugged—“and live in constant misery until you break or die. Or, worse, fail to do either. But of all the things I will ever ask you to do, Mathias, this is one of the easiest.”
Nothing was easy here. This had to be some kind of trap; he just wasn’t smart enough to see it. Dougie would know, if he were here. If Mat hadn’t failed him again, lost him again.
“Anyway.” Nikolai unfolded his arms, leaned forward in his chair, pulled a felt-tip marker and a pad of paper from his inside breast pocket and slid them over to Mat. “Share whatever you’d care to share. Write down your thoughts, your requests. We’ll discuss them all, I promise. And if that seems too much for you right now, then let us begin with your training diet. Tell me exactly what you need, and my chef will see it done. Like I said, Mathias—fighting fit. I’ll never starve you here.”
Mat nodded. He’d get strong again, all right. Stronger than he’d ever been, so