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Scratch laid in the alley, beaten, bloody, tired, barely hanging on. What else is new.
His breaths were heavy, his lungs sucking in as much air as he could to just hold on that little bit longer. He needed to survive, he always did, he had to. This is what he did, ever since being left in an alley just like this.
The fleas were gone, hopefully they wouldn't be back. He just needed to hold on, fight one more time. He needed to move, but he couldn't, not like this.
His jacket was torn, his eyepatch ripped up, leaving his scar exposed. Fur mangled, body sore, part of his ear chewed off. Shocked they didn't eat him whole.
All that was left was to sit there, wait to die, and regret everything that led him to this moment. What was he even thinking? He's not a super villain, he could barely make a riddle. All he could do was scrape together enough cash to pay off those florists. Surely they were long gone by now.
And those turtles…why even bother? They looked him dead in the eye and said they didn't know him. What's the point of taking revenge on someone who doesn't even know why you're mad?
That blue one…Leo…that was just more salt in his wounds. Comparing the most traumatic moment of his life to…being a hall monitor? Did he even care? No…of course he didn’t…who would?
It just all went back to that night, that cold winter night. Being tossed out into the snow, rejected by the people he relied on to live. Left to be a stray, a nobody. Left to die with no one knowing his name. How familiar it felt.
Now this was his fate. Bleeding out in an alley. No one is even going to remember who he was by the morning. It was all pointless…he wasn't worth anything…just another stray…wait…what's that sound?
A truck pulled up, probably just the garbage. Some men came out of it, probably just trash men. The footsteps rounded the corner, stopping in front of Scratch's nearly lifeless body. He expected a scream, or maybe just indifference. He didn't bother moving, just sitting there…until…he felt his body move. We're they…picking him up?
Scratch's eye shifted to the side, seeing one of the men holding him. That build…the uniform…was it…? No…she wouldn't have come back for him, why would she? His eye then moved to the truck he was being carried to. That logo…the Florist Society…They…they came back for him?
“Load him in ze back and let's get out of zere.”
That voice…how? Why? He's just a stray…why would she…
The thugs just kind of threw him in the back of the truck, not caring about his injuries. It hurt, but it's what he deserves. He groans and pulled himself along the cold floor to the wall, straining his sore body with every movement…then…he felt someone help him lean back.
“Try not to hurt youzelf. I didn’t come all this way for you to die now.”
His head was still spinning, his eye drifting all over the back of the truck. Focus Scratch, just ground yourself for a moment. Focus on your senses.
He could taste the blood in his mouth, and just how dry it was.
He could hear the engine of the truck start, and the opening of some kind of packaging.
He could feel the movement of the vehicle as well as hands wrapping something around where his wounds were.
He could smell some kind of purflume, smelled like a kind of flower. Rose? No…like a…cherry blossom.
Lastly, his eye focused enough to see the person who was working on his wounds. A woman he thought would just take off, just like everyone else did.
“L…La Fleur?” He lightly gasps out, trying not to cough up a lung just from talking. The woman shifted away for a moment, coming back holding a bottle of water for the cat.
“Drink. It’ll help with your throat. And don’t fidget zo much.” She said somewhat coldly before returning to his wounds, tightly wrapping goss around the bite marks he had all around. Those damn fleas, he knew they’d be the death of him someday.
Scratch tried not to think about the pain, turning his attention to the bottle. Twisting the cap off took a bit more effort than he was proud to admit, and trying to drink it like he would a dish of water wasn’t working with how small the top was. La Fleur must have taken notice, her hand suddenly holding his own, lightly, but strong enough to move his arm.
“Like zis.” Her hand lightly moved the bottle to Scratch’s lips, tilting it enough so the liquid could flow into his mouth, pulling back enough now and then so Scratch could swallow. This was embarrassing, like a baby being fed their food. Was this really what his life came down to? Being babied by some woman he barely knew? Still…it wasn’t the worst feeling in the world…
The water helped, quite a lot. He felt his energy coming back, not feeling like he was two seconds away from just dying right then and there. La Fleur returned to his body to get the last of his wounds as he leaned his head against the cold wall of the truck. He should be thankful, and maybe he was, but there was just one question he kicked around in his head this entire time.
“Why did you come back?”
La Fleur stopped for a moment before lifting her head up, having a slightly confused look in her eyes as she stared into his. “Why wouldn’t I come back?”
The ball was back with Scratch, and he didn’t know what to say. He turned his head away slightly, tapping his fingers against the steel floor. “I don’t know…I don’t have any money left to pay you…I nearly got your operation exposed…my gang tried to eat me…the entire plan was a failure…I’m…” He stopped for a second, gently closing his eye. “Why would anyone come back for me?”
The truck was silent for a minute, it made Scratch’s fur stand on end. Was that too honest? Did he make her uncomfortable? The seconds without a response were killing him. Then, he heard her speak.
“You’ve been good to me.” The cat opened his eye and stared back at her as she continued. “A little rude, but who am I to judge? You treated me fairly, took the heat off me before ze cops could investigate my shops, and you never overstepped your authority with my operation.” Each word made Scratch feel oddly warm inside. What was that feeling? He could barely even remember what it was called anymore. “Plus, I just like cats.”
The old cat’s ears perked up from hearing all of this, his tail regaining life and wagging back and forth. No one had talked to him like this…not for a very long time. “I…I don’t…” The words got stuck in his throat. He just breathed in deep and looked back with his lips turned up slightly, like a smile. “Thank you.”
La Fleur gave a light nod before finishing up her work, patching the last of the wounds and sitting back to get a better look at his whole body. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than when she found him.
Scratch leans his head back, putting a hand over his scar, still feeling the pain of that night. “So like…Are you going to make me your pet or something?” He asked as his hand gently traces the scratch marks on his face, wondering if it was even worth still being mad after what happened tonight.
La Fleur gave a light shrug, slicking her hair back and moving one of her legs up to her chest. “I was thinking more of a partner.” She looked back at him, leaning her head on her hand. “You made your mess mine, so zits only fair I make my mess yours” She said with a light smile, making this strange warm sense grow in Scratch’s chest.
He smiled back, something he thought he forgot how to do, as he plays with his hair a bit, only now realizing the small pony tail he had was messed up from the attack, letting his fur hang down fully. “Well you’re going to be making the plans going forward, because clearly you have a better sense of what you’re doing.”
A light chuckle came from La Fleur’s mouth, shaking her head slightly. “Oh don’t be so hard on yourzelf. I mean, hiring weapon smuggling florists to steal dogs to lure out teenage turtles all so you could get at a rat. zIt’s…complacated, but…charming.”
Scratch’s tail perked up hearing this, lightly wagging behind him as he smiled. The two of them just sat in silence for a moment, a much more pleasant one than before. He never had strong feelings one way or the other about humans, but he had to admit, this one was growing on him.
“You never told me your name.”
La Fleur tiled her head slightly. “I thought I did.”
“Well…not really. I mean La Fleur sounds more like a title than a name.”
She just sat there for a moment, tapping her leg slightly before speaking. “Zits Sally.”
Scratch tilted his head. “Sally…that’s not a very French name.”
“French Canadian.”
“Oh, so you’re a liar.”
The back of the van got filled with laughs from both of them, Scratch clutching at his chest a little bit, it hurt to laugh. But it was still nice, and something he hasn’t done in so long.
Sally smiled as she leaned back again, the look on her face showing she also had this warm feeling Scratch had. “What about you then?”
“What about me?”
She learned forward slightly. “Maybe I am out of touch, but I doubt a child named zeir cat Scratch.”
“Well you don’t understand the lack of creativity of a child.” Both of them chuckled again, Scratch still clutching at his chest as his eye looked down again. “You’re right though…”
La Fleur’s eyes widened slightly, going quiet as she noticed Scratch’s face shift.
“It’s…It was…Hob. But that was back before…” He stopped, turning his face to the other side, hiding the tears that were building up. “I changed it after they threw me out…it was the name of my old family…so…I didn’t need it anymore…”
Another silence, this one more personal. That night played out again in his head, just getting tossed like that like he was nothing…maybe they were right…maybe he was…
“Regardless of names…” Scratch quickly sat up, wiping away his tears and looked back at Sally. “It'll be good to work with you more…Hob.”
That name…he hasn't used it for so long…it shouldn't feel normal on him…he shouldn't feel anything hearing it. But hearing it from her…it felt…right.
“Well…I feel the same way…Sally.” He smiled lightly as he felt that warmth again. What was the word for it…what was it he was feeling…
The rest of the drive was uneventful, but that was fine. The two of them just sat calmly together, ready to take on the world, and maybe give those turtles some payback if they ever tried to be heroes again.
Scratch felt much better than he did 20 minutes ago, actually having something you would call hope. And this feeling…he thinks he finally found a word for it.
After 15 years of being alone, Hob finally felt….loved.