Regrets
The back door to the spa banged open sharply, and the old badger looked toward both ends of the alley before running to the dumpster to check all around it. Finding nothing, he looked up to the other end of the alley, where he saw the meerkat from the salon, shaking his head. The old mane-dresser also shook his head, waved at the meerkat, then went his own way out the opposite direction.
Observing from a safe point, the kits realized that it was the same everywhere they went: No one never thought to look up.
Lyal let out a long, sickly sigh, trying not to cough from the return of cold air into his lungs, so much as if to say Sorry, fellahs, summer vacation's over, back to the frozen tundra. He turned away from his view of the street and sat down hard on the gravely rooftop, resting his back for a moment against the low wall that surrounded it. He found himself remembering an ancient story from his school literature class, about a guy who was doomed forever to have food and drink just out of reach, always never, but never attainable, tantalizingly close ... yes, that was it, his name was Tantalus. The one who could never have what he most needed, never ever ever...
He started to pull the robe closer around himself; it was windy up here. It was then he heard Lyris' voice near him, softly. "No, wait." She rummaged in the packs until she found a couple of his shirts. "Take the robe off, but these on ... both of them, then put the robe back on. You'll need some layers for warmth."
As he always would do when Lyris got into this mothering mode, he began to comply, slowly for the sake of his sore ribs. Almost instinctively (after all this time), he began looking around the roof for a wind-break or other shelter. He saw his sister keeping watch, her ears pinned back to her neck so that she presented as small a silhouette as possible. Some part of him realized that they'd gone back into the barest survival mode yet again, with hardly a pause in between that short time of sanctuary and the explosive moments that sent them out into the wilds again. Lyal had the horrible feeling that "forever" wasn't nearly long enough to describe what they'd be having to go through.
Another fifteen minutes passed without incident, and Lyris finally gave up her vigil and leaned against her brother with the wall at their backs. She shivered a little, the sun already low enough in the sky to cast the shadow in which they now huddled.
"I think he's gone," she whispered.
"Yes."
"Did you hear him?"
"Yes."
"The way he yelled... the things he said... do you believe him?"
He put his arm around her and pulled her close to him. "Yes, Lyss. Yes, I believe him."
"But why? Why should we believe him? Why isn't he just like everyone else, out to take whatever he thinks he can steal from us, or 'rent' from us?"
Lyal waited for a long moment, until Lyris looked him in the eyes. "You didn't see him kiss me."
The doe broke out of his embrace, looking at him hotly for a moment, then turning away, as if she didn't want to know anything about it. Lyal wasn't letting her off that easily. He pulled her back around and made her look at him, holding her face softly but firmly in his forepaws. "Lyss, I mean it. He didn't act like one of the guys off the street that we've had. He... kissed me, Lyss. Not some kind of rough tongue-wrestling thing, he just touched his lips to me as if he really cared. He was more concerned about where you'd gotten to than getting into my pants."
She snorted derisively at him. "He was more afraid I'd gotten out to proposition his clients, more like, or that I'd get my paws in the till, like that cat was screaming!"
"He didn't believe her," the buck insisted. "He believed you were innocent."
"How can we trust him?" she shot back. "What if that call to the cops went through, what if..."
She stopped short as she heard a car pull up to the front of the shop, cherries and blueberries flashing silently. It was as if the universe were proving her right. From their three-storey tall hiding place, the rabbits watched as uniformed canine cops got out of the cruiser slowly (as befit their chunky shapes), checked their gear (like clichés or caricatures of themselves) and moved into the shop. Immediately, both bunnies shrank down below the low wall and looked for every possible exit from the roof. If they were going to get chased, the cops were going to need a helluva lot faster dogs than those two.
"Where's your badger's kiss now, Ly?" Lyris hissed, grabbing up and securing the two backpacks. She looked around again. "I see two exits from here; we can get to ground and head for the sewers if we have to, but we are not going back! They'll have police sketch artists down there next, if not photos from surveillance cameras..."
"We don't know that..."
"You want to wait for them to call back-ups and start canvassing the buildings? We're wasting time, Lyal, we've got to get out of--"
The buck put a forepaw gently to his sister's mouth and, with the other pointed to the cruiser. The cops had left the shop, laughing and shaking their heads. One activated the radio mike on his shoulder and ripped off a bunch of a bunch of codes and shortpaw phrases, the gist of which was something about cancelling the call. "Think they'd make up their friggin' minds," one of the big dogs said, taking off his hat and climbing into the car, his partner on the other side still shaking his head. The red and blue lights were turned off, and the cop car eased into the street and away without further ado.
Both bunnies let out long breaths that they'd been holding long enough to release steam into the air. "Ten-twenty-four," Lyal said quietly. He had memorized as much of the police 10-codes as he thought might help them in keeping a low profile. "Assignment complete. They closed the book on it and left. No back up, no questions, nothing. Nobody swore out a complaint."
"Doesn't mean..." Lyris began, but her comment didn't seem to have any strength behind it. Lyal didn't press the point, if for no other reason than that she wasn't necessarily wrong. But he hoped... oh how he hoped...
They sat in silence as the sun sank lower and lower, along with the temperature and their hopes. Lyal's cold medicine had been helping to stifle his cough somewhat, but the dose would be wearing off soon, as evidenced by his having to cough into the fabric of the robe in order to keep the noise quiet. His head started to hurt, and he could feel his temperature starting to rise. For all he knew, it was making him crazy, or stupid, or both. "Lys," he rasped quietly. "I want to go back."
"Are you nuts?"
"After the shop is closed. No one else there, just him. Maybe he'll..."
"Maybe he'll what? Turn us in?"
"I don't think--"
A sound from below silenced them both. It was a growl, deep but pained, as if angry over being hurt by something. Lyris huddled down, but Lyal dared to turn and peer over the low wall. He saw the old badger and the meerkat talking, gesturing, both looking haggard and sad beyond reason. The badger hung his head; the meerkat put his forepaw to the mane-dresser's shoulder and seemed to be trying to say something. The boss said something more to the employee, who simply nodded and went back inside the spa. As the gloaming began to settle into the space of the alleyway, the badger stood still, tail drooping, ears splayed, looking slowly back and forth as if he might have somehow missed something the first time he looked. His eyes fixed on the dumpster, and Lyal could have sworn that he heard something like a sigh, or a soft hitching of breath... or a sob.
Lyal felt himself about to do the same. The darkness was bringing quiet to the streets, so he turned to his sister and made his ears dance for her, the silent language that they had learned at their granddam's hindpaws. *Lyss... we have to go back.*
*I don't trust him!* her ears responded fitfully.
He took her shoulders in his forepaws and looked at her closely. *He told me that, no matter what I'd done to stay alive, I wasn't a whore. I promised him that I'd stay and wait for you, and he went to look for you. He promised me that he would never let us get separated.* He shook her just the slightest bit as he emphasized the word again. *Never.*
*Lyal...*
*I think we can trust him. He sent the police away.*
For a while she was both silent and still, watching the old badger sniff around the alleyway as if he could find a trace of them after so long. He seemed resigned and defeated as he headed back toward the front of the shop. The sight rolled a stone against the buck's heart, and he almost let out a sob of his own. Finally, the rabbits looked at each other, eyes speaking even more than their ears, and with far less movement. Lyris sighed, speaking out loud this time, making her voice carry to his ears only. "I can't go back there, Ly. I'll kill myself first." It came out as a bald fact, like she was saying the sun was hot or the moon was only full once a month.
He pulled his shaking sister into his arms and held her tight to his chest. "I won't let that happen, Lyss... and somehow, I don't think he will either. I think he'll help us."
"You trust him?"
Lyal thought about it a moment, then said, "I trust his kiss."
From far below, the sound of keys jingled. Looking over the ledge, they saw the old mane-dresser handling his batch of keys to open the back door of his salon. Almost without thinking, Lyal found some loose stones and tossed them away from the direction of the fire escape and down into the alley. The badger looked over, curious, and didn't see the two kits maneuver quickly down the fire escape and down to the ground. Lyal took his sister's forepaw in his own, and they stood looking at the badger a moment longer, the buck trying to believe that his heart wasn't lying to him, or at the very least that he could have just one night without having to breathe ice cubes into his damaged lungs...
* * * * * * * * * *
Barton stood at the back door to his salon, leaning against it feeling more tired than he'd felt in years. He'd never been sentimental, not until Wallace showed him that it was okay to feel, okay to know joy, okay even to cry. He felt that way now, not knowing why... well, that wasn't true, he knew most of the reason why, and Wallace's ghost-like presence in his mind showed him the reasons and the memories and, just as a coup-de-grace, the image of Lyal's dirty, snotty, sweet face bending toward him to give him the first sincere kiss he'd shared since Wallace had died.
From a CHILD, his mind screamed at him. What are you thinking, you disgusting old...
The badger screwed up his face, took a hitching breath, pressed his forehead against the door, fighting off tears. It wasn't like that, it wasn't, and what would it matter now anyway, they're gone, they're long gone, to face whatever horrors awaited them. The sun was setting, the winds were getting colder, and they were gone, gone, Saints help them, gone...
You did what you could for them, my lovely, Wallace's voice whispered in his mind. You took the chance, and you tried to help them. In spite of what happened to me...
"Because of what happened t' you," Barton whispered, feeling hot tears burning the fur on his cheeks despite his struggle against it. He didn't want anything like that to happen to anyone else, ever again. He knew he couldn't accomplish that end, but he tried everything he could think of, hoping if even one death could be stopped, one life could be saved, it might -- just might mind you -- make a difference. To someone. Somewhere. Wherever they are...
A rattling sound, like pebbles being scattered, distracted his attention toward the front of the store. He looked, peered into the darkness, hoping against hope, despite the gut-sinking feeling that it couldn't be the kits. Is that what it is, to read the Lives of the Saints? The Greeks tell us that the last thing in Pandora's box was Hope; was that to give us strength to fight against the other trials and terrors that she unleashed, or was it in fact the final and most cruel evil of all... to hope, even when all else has been torn away? The badger fought tears. It felt too much like it was all his fault...
"Sir?"
Barton whipped around toward the whispered voice, his heart in his throat. No, he wasn't seeing things - there they were, paw in paw, looking up at him! He moved toward the kits, his arms wide, then stopped short when he saw the raw fear in Lyris' eyes. She'd started to jerk away from her brother, but he held on to her paw fiercely, not taking his eyes off of the older male. His eyes - those deep chocolate brown eyes that had seen too much too soon - were soft, open, not trusting yet but hopeful, the kind of hope that only appears when there's truly nothing left to live for. The kind of hope that is all that's left in the box visited upon an innocent life...
The old honey badger fell to his knees, his arms to his sides, as non-threatening as he could imagine making himself. "Please," he said to both of them. "Please don't run again. I won't hurt ye, I swear it, an' the shop's closed now, no customers, no one else there. No coppers either, an' there won't be. I'll nae let 'em take ye; they'll have to fight me down first, and I done a lot o' pub-crawlin' in me younger days. I'll make sure yer safe. Please... come inside?"
The doe still shook slightly, fearful, uncertain, but the buck held her paw tightly in his own. He stepped slowly toward the badger, pulling his sister along with him. When he got near enough, he put an arm around the older male's neck and hugged him. Barton threw his arms around the young rabbit, crushing him in an embrace that felt both wonderful and terrible, for underneath the robe and the two shirts and the matted fur, ribs were painfully abundant, and the lungs within still rattled more than they should, and though the heart beat strong, it was a little too fast for comfort. The buck's forepaws pet his head tenderly, a reassuring touch that felt not like begging for help but like real affection. He felt two fresh tears escape before he could stop them, and when he opened his eyes, he found himself looking at a confused young doe who looked as if she didn't know if she should join the embrace or club the old perv and run like hell.
He took the chance of extending one paw to the buck's sister, and after a moment was rewarded with a tentative touch of her paw in his. It was all he could have asked for. He squeezed the lad for a moment, and pulled gently back from him, addressing them both. "Come inside. We'll order in some proper food this time. That little Chinese takeaway has wonderful vegetable bowls. I've got a lot of explainin' t' do, and you two need a safe haven tonight. And you, laddybuck," he grinned at Lyal, "still need that shower."
The slightly embarrassed grin on Lyal's muzzle made Barton's heart skip a beat from sheer joy. He wondered how long it had been since the buck had managed such an expression. Lyris was still uncertain, but she could see how her brother was responding, and her face softened a bit. It would take yet more time to win her trust; Barton just hoped it wasn't too late, and he tossed up a prayer to the patron saint of children, Nicholas himself, that he wouldn't bollix it up all over again.
He got to his hindpaws and led the twins, backpacks in paw, back into the salon's back room. "Now, let me..." He stopped, cocked an ear, put a finger to his muzzle. Some sound from up front... He knelt again, a forepaw on each of their shoulders, whispering feverishly. "I'll get rid of 'em, whoever 'tis. Stay here, don't run, for th' sake of all the Saints and mine too, please... don't run..." He looked anxiously into Lyal's eyes, saw the buck nod and take hold of his sister's paw again.
Quickly rising again, Barton paused at the door into the main hallway of the spa and looked around. "Who's there?" he called.
"Barton?" came the call back. "Are you back?"
The badger looked around at the twins, smiled and nodded, mouthing the word meerkat at them. "Be right up there, Malik." He motioned for the twins to stay where they were and prayed that he'd convinced Lyal not to run.
In the front of the salon, Barton saw no one else about. "Just you, is it?"
"Yes," the young meerkat nodded. "Everyone else has been gone for a while. It wasn't as bad as you might think. A few upset patrons, more angry with the kerfuffle than your shouting. One client pulled me aside and gave me a twenty to get the kits some food, if you found them; it's in the drawer, with a note. Una was spitting and hissing half the time, but Alicia and Carrie shut her up when the cops arrived. Not sure if she'll be back, truth to say, but..." He looked up hopefully. "Did you find them?"
Barton paused for a long moment. "Aye."
"Are they okay?"
"They will be, for tonight at least."
The young meerkat, his dark eyes bright and knowing, smiled the slightest bit. "How can I help?"
"Ye've already done," the old badger returned the smile. "No one's to know, right?"
Malik put out his paw, which Barton shook gently. He squeezed a little and said, "I'll have my cell close by all night. Anything I can do. I mean anything, okay?" He chuckled a little. "If nothing else, I'd like to compliment the doe on a great flying tackle."
The older male released the paw in favor of taking his assistant into a tight hug, which was warmly returned. "I'm goin' t' need help w' them, one way and 'nother. Tonight, prolly not, but I'll put ye on speed-dial!"
"Anytime," the slight young student chuckled, then surprised Barton by planting a quick kiss to his cheek. "Hope you won't fire a fur for being affectionate," he said softly.
"Not if ye won't sue me for harassment," the badger replied, and returned the kiss before pulling back from the hug. "Thank ye, Malik. Wallace would be proud."
The meerkat had never met Barton's lover, who had been killed long before the student had even landed the job, but he had learned enough about the badger over these many months to know he'd just been paid a deeply meaningful compliment. "I know the shop's closed till Tuesday," he said softly, "but don't let that stop you. I'm just a call away." Patting his employer's shoulder softly, he left the spa, Barton quietly locking the front door behind him.
He darkened the lights in front area of the spa, turned the sign to "Closed," drew down the blinds. Light from down the hall spilled into the room, reminding Barton of so many similar nights, back when he and Wallace could relax after the long week, celebrating their shop, their time, their love. He smiled softly at the recollection, almost feeling the meerkat's spirit wrapping around him like a blanket, a soft and warm blanket of affection that he had a chance to share with a couple of kits who needed the support. If they could trust him enough. If he could trust himself.
He breathed deeply and headed for the back room. At the very least, dinner was indicated. And since he wasn't going to be doing the cooking, dinner was, with a little luck, something he couldn't bollix up too badly.