Xaviar woke up to the sound of the heart rate monitor beside his bed. Glancing around, he was quick to notice that he laid upon his bed, in his own room. He was safe, in his own home.

Xaviar's abdomen had been bandaged up nice and clean from the night he'd been shot by Damon, which was sure to leave a permanent scar.

Xaviar's hands were covered up where needles had been placed for blood transfer. That was the only way to save him, given that he'd lose so much blood. Thankfully the pain had eased tremendously, however, the slight sting still lingered. 

"You're awake." Justin grinned as he walked into Xaviar's bedroom, "You were out cold, some of the men thought you might have slipped into a coma, but doctor Martin assured them it was just the medication working in your system."

"What are you talking about?" Xaviar lifted himself into a sitting position on the bed, leaving just a little room for Justin to sit beside him.

"Martin had sedated you." Justin continued, "He said your body would heal faster that way. You were out for eight straight days boss." Justin scrunched his eyebrows as Xaviar eyes widened. 

Eight days?! 

How is that even possible? 

Why the hell did Justin think it was necessary to let the damn doctor knock him out cold for eight freaking days? Some kind of right-hand man he is, maybe a replacement would be for the best. 

Quickly snapping out of his thoughts, Xaviar huffed in irritation, as his mind came flooding back to that dreadful night. 

Damon wasn't dead. 

Damon had shot him. 

Why wasn't Damon dead? 

Andy had saved his life. 

Andy!

The heart rate monitor picked up, he'd told Desmond to take Andy with them, had they heard him? Was Andy dead? "Where's Andy?" Xaviar was quick to ask.

Justin arched a brow in confusion, "Who?"

"What do you mean who?" Xaviar snapped, his mind fogging with ideas on how to end Justin's insignificant life, "The guy who saved my life for fuck sake. Don't tell me you had him killed Justin, I swear to god you're going to wish you were dead if you let anything happen to that -"

"Relax will you." Justin snickered, clearly entertained by his boss's sudden outburst, "Nothing happened to him. We didn't know what you wanted him for, and the son of a bitch wouldn't stop cursing and fighting, trying to escape. We had to lock the bastard up. He's in the basement." Justin smiled his pearly white teeth at a fuming Xaviar. 

"You had him thrown in the basement!" Xaviar ragged on, already pulling the covers off.

Out of all the places, why did they have to put him in the basement? That place was only used for torturing and killings. For heaven’s sake, Andy didn't belong there. 

"So help me god Justin." Xaviar fought the urge not to slap the man who had a frown on his face beside him, Xaviar lifted his feet off the bed and onto the ground. "If I wasn't so desperate I would've had your ass on the streets by now." 

"Where are you going?" Justin stood up with his hands held out in hopes of stopping Xaviar from getting up. 

"Don't touch me." Xaviar hissed which brought Justin's hands up in defense, "I'm going to see if Andy's okay."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Justin said, "You just woke up." 

However, before Justin could say anymore, Xaviar was already on his feet heading for the door, "At least put on a shirt."

----------

Andy laid on his back, looking up at the grey ceiling of the cold gloomy basement that held nothing but a small light bulb above, a tiny barred window by the door, and a metal table beside the wall. When asked what it was used for, Desmond had told him to use his imagination, which he willingly did but didn't like what he saw.

Andy had earned himself a pair of cuffs that held tightly against the wrist, biting at his flesh, which was sure to cause bruises, and shackles to the feet from the countless times he'd tried to escape. 

One attempt had taken place only yesterday morning, where he'd break a man's nose trying to run away, which his reward had been busted up lips and a discolored handprint to the neck. Not to mention no food nor water since.

Eight days Andy had been locked up in this hell hole with no means of escape. He didn't know why they were keeping him there, when asked, the men just chose to ignore him. 

The only piece of information he'd gotten was from Desmond when the man had told him that Xaviar still lives. For an unknown reason, a small part of Andy was pleased with that news. 

Maybe it was because of the sudden attraction he has towards the criminal? 

No! 

That couldn't be true. He hated the mafia with all his being, after all, the man had destroyed everything Andy had worked for and kidnapped him after Andy had saved his life without even a thank you. Andy hated his guts, even if Xaviar might cause a few flutters here and there within Andy's heart when thinking about the mafia man.

The door cracked open, in marched a shirtless Xavier, his stomach and arms covered in bandages, his eyes were slightly tainted with black and blue bruised marks that were gradually fading. 

Xaviar's eyes wandered until he caught sight of the shackled man who huddled up in the far corner. Rage, regret, and sympathy clouded his mind at what he'd been the cause of once again. 

Andy's head bolted up when he heard footsteps walking through the basement, toward him. Lifting his body in a sitting position, he froze from sheer panic when he saw Xaviar striding up to him.

"I'm not going to hurt you." Xaviar raised his hands, showing Andy he meant the man no harm, "When I told them to bring you here, this was not what I meant." The mafia gesture around the room, "I would've never allowed this if I had known. I was, um. I had been -"

"How are you feeling?" Andy interrupted when he'd notice the strain in the older man's voice, then slapped himself mentally for saying that out loud. Why should he care? The man had him kidnapped for heaven’s sake. He needed to get himself together. 

Xaviar arched a brow in confusion, something doesn't seem right, yet he still answers, "Um. Fine, I guess." Xaviar cleared his throat, "I'm fine, I've been sedated for the past eight days - what happened to your neck?" Xaviar squinted his eyes to get a better view of Andy's discolored neck

"Why am I here?" Andy questioned, completely ignoring Xaviar's inquiry about the bruises that decorated his neck, "I've done nothing wrong Xaviar. Hell, I saved your damn life, and this is the thanks I get?" Andy lifted his cuffed hands for Xaviar to see, "I told your men I ain't see nothing, and I ain't no nothing -"

"Can we talk?" Xaviar interrupted. His voice, an icy smooth, different from his usual raging impatience," Without the shackles and cuffs. Please." 

Andy froze in place, after hearing Xaviar said, please. Andy's mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. 

"You have my word you can go after we're finished." Xaviar continued, silently pleading with his eyes, "But first, you need to tell me what happened to your neck and those pretty little lips of yours," Xaviar smirked. Back again to his old cocky ways, and catching Andy by surprise once again with his chosen words, causing the younger man's mouth to fell agape.

----------

Andy and Xaviar were both seated side by side, merely inches apart in Xaviar's living room. The surroundings were bland, black leather sofas circling a dark pine wood coffee table, plain black frames hung off the walls beside the two wooden bookshelves. 

It was bland and dreary Andy thought, just like Xaviar as the man sat with folded arms, facing away from Andy. Neither knows what to say.

"I'm sorry," Xaviar mumbled after a long silence between the two, if Andy hadn't been so close to him, the young man probably wouldn't even have heard Xaviar's attempt of an apology 

Andy's head crook to the side, "What did you just say?"

Xaviar rolled his eyes, "I said, I'm sorry-"

"No!" Andy intervened, "You don't get to say sorry to me after everything that you've done you selfish bastard. Do you have any idea what I've been through just to get where I was?"

Xaviar, "I know -"

Andy, "You know? Do you know?! -"

"Please, Andy." Xaviar attempts to calm the raging Andy, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done what I did -"

"You left me for dead Xaviar!" Andy snapped.

"I called the ambulance okay!" Xaviar said, trying and failing to justify his crud behavior, "If I wanted you dead you would've been dead a long time ago -"

"So I should thank you?" Andy chuckled. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, Xaviar's so annoying and stuck up, Andy wanted to just pounce on him and probably beat the shit of the deranged man.

"God Andy," Xaviar huffed, "That's not what I'm saying. Look, I'm sorry, okay? I want to pay you back for all the damages I've done and-"

"No." Andy interrupted, clearly defeated, for nothing he says would make Xaviar understand the burning wrath he's feeling.

Xaviar, "What?"

Andy, "I said no Xaviar. I don't want your goddamn money."

Xaviar, "Why?"

Andy rubbed at his temples, "I ain't getting involved with any mafia. That just causes trouble. Thank you for the apologies, now I best be on my way." Just as Andy was about to get up, a hand landed on his thigh stopping him in place. 

Gulping, Andy lifted his head to face the mafia man in front of him. Their eyes clashed for a second, and gazing into Xaviar's own, there was no denying Xaviar's eyes were filled with pure lust and a hint of longing towards the younger man. 

Slowly, Xaviar's hand began stroking Andy's thigh, the younger man sat, unmoving, stunned at Xaviar's advancement, yet he didn't make any move to stop the mafia lord. 

For one mere moment, Andy got lost in Xaviar's touch, his eyes slowly began to close. That moment, however, ended just as it came up. Quickly Andy covered Xaviar's hand with his own, stopping the older man from going further.