Author: Lokemele

WARNINGS: Graphic descriptions of sexual and non-sexual torture; consensual and non-consensual sex; SLASH

Pairing: Qui-Gon Jinn/Ilya Kuryakin

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimers: Star Wars characters are copyright LucasFilm LTD. The Man from U.N.C.L.E. characters are copyright
MGM. No infringement of copywritten characters is intended, and no profit is being made.

"You’re a whore. You’ve always been a whore. You’ll always be a whore"

The words echoed in his mind as he staggered through the alley. His latest "client" had not only taken what he
wanted without payment, he’d beaten the young man bloody and stolen the money he’d been able to earn tonight.
He wouldn’t be able to replace his lost wages with his face looking like it did now, and his pimp would have no
sympathy for him; he’d probably add to the bruises marring his features. That wasn’t his main worry, however: the
lost wages were needed to buy his supply of heroin to keep away the pain that even now nibbled at the edges of
his awareness. In a few hours he knew he’d be a shuddering, puking ball of pain; it had happened before and
would doubtless happen again, unless someone took pity on him (unlikely) or he died, either from withdrawal or at
the hands and feet of whoever his moans disturbed.

He could not for the life of him (Bozshe moi, he thought to himself, what a choice of phrase) understand why he
kept going instead of lying down to die. He could remember no time when he had not sold himself to survive. He
had no prospects for the future; in the shape he was in now, he doubted he had a future. Tonight was far from the
first time he’d been beaten; the only time he wasn’t in pain was just after he’d shot up, and his pain-free time had
been getting shorter and shorter as his body developed a tolerance to the slow death he was shooting into his
veins. What then was the voice in a small, quiet corner of his mind that whispered keep going, be patient, it will
get better? Some last bit of self-preservation? Life was cold and lonely and painful, and he wanted it to end.

He reached the mouth of the alley, and leaned against one of the buildings that formed it, trying to catch his
breath and get his bearings. Some part of his mind registered the large, dark sedan speeding his way. Whether
by design or accident, he pushed himself from the alley and into its path.