Work Text:
Azraels boots thumped against the wet concrete as he hit the ground. Rain was falling in sheets from the sky, the visibility was low so it was best to stay out of the sky, he didn’t need a repeat of his first time grappling in low visibility rain. The physical pain hadn’t been as bad as the pain from his pride at the embarrassment of such a folly. Azrael looked up at the night sky as rain fell in sheets, he felt a sense of peace, listening to it, even as it soaked his hood and cape. The Angel truly didn’t mind the rain so much, not as much as the other vigilantes of the night.
He found it peaceful in a way, the rain falling from the heavens, the way the city looked as the rain fell, almost making the city lights look like stars. Jean-Paul disliked the rain, though Azrael couldn’t fathom why, it was peaceful, beautiful. It did help that in this kind of torrent most criminals weren’t out and about, especially since the water was starting to rise, it wasn’t too high, not yet, but given how heavy and fast the rain was falling, it wouldn’t be long before the water rose higher. He could only hope that it didn’t flood too badly, floods were always difficult to navigate with the weight of his armor.
The Angel walked through the streets, listening carefully as his eyes and head were on a swivel, keeping an eye out for civilians or criminals, though he highly doubted anyone would be out in this weather unless they absolutely needed to be. As he was about to pass by an alleyway, he heard a noise from inside. He paused and tried to peer into the dark alleyway, though given the low visibility he couldn’t see much.
Azrael carefully entered the alleyway, unsheathing his sword to allow for some light as it ignited, offering some more visibility, though not much. He listened carefully for the noise that attracted him in the first place, not hearing anything at first, the only sound was the rain splashing into puddles and against the concrete.
He reached the end of the alleyway, a dead end, and hadn’t found the source of the sound. He turned to leave when he heard it again, the sound of something pittering against the ground. At first he assumed it was simply rats making the sound, but then the light of his sword caught something.
A kitten.
Small and grey, barely looked old enough to be away from its mother, it’s fur sopping wet. The kitten was practically fighting for its life, the water slowly but surely rising. He hadn’t thought twice before sheathing his sword and carefully picking up the small animal.
He could feel its heart thrumming against his gauntlet. The animal was practically waterlogged, and he didn’t know if it was injured. The good doctor Thompkins would surely be the best person to help. Even if her medical knowledge was geared towards those of more human nature, she had patched him up before and given his own animalistic DNA, she was therefore, the best person to help the small animal.
The Angel held the kitten close to his chest, bowing his head a little to help keep the torrential rain off the small animal. The small animal let out small squeaks, and he worried about the noise, he did not know much about animals, especially cats, but Jean-Paul had met Alfred the cat the few times he’d gone to Wayne Manor recently, and he was pretty sure that cats were not supposed to sound like that.
Azrael worried about the possibility that he hadn’t found the small animal in time and that the kitten was drowning because of the water in its lungs. The Order had not prepared him to do CPR on a small animal. Well they hadn’t prepared him to do CPR at all, the Bat on the other hand had in fact taught him how to do CPR. He may have to ask the youngest Wayne child or the Cat if either of them know how to do CPR on a small animal, they would be the most likely to know in his opinion.
But for now, he had to get the kitten to the good doctor, praying quietly to the almighty that the small animal wouldn’t die, the prayers to God and the Saints falling from his lips like the raindrops from the sky.
“Oh Holy One, God of health-“
———————————————————————
Azraels boots thumped against the wet ground as he ran the familiar route to Dr. Thompkins home, holding the kitten close to his body. The closer he got though, the more he remembered and registered that he was still wearing the mask, remembered the doctors dislike of him, but her preference for Jean-Paul. He could not lie and say it did not sting some days. They were the same, yet she preferred his counterpart.
He could not blame her entirely though. He was violent. He hurt others. The blood that stained his hands was immeasurable, a stain that would never come out. Jean-Paul, others viewed him as clean, as pure in a way that he himself was not. So as he got closer to her home, one hand left the kittens small, trembling body, and pulled off the mask, the Angel hoping that the good doctor would be more willing to help if it was Jean-Paul making the plea.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jean-Paul gasped as he came back to himself, eyes going every which way as the memories clicked back into place. Patrol, the alleyway, sounds, kitten, kitten needs help, Dr. Thompkins. He blinked the rain out of his eyes as he looked down at the kitten in his hands, emotions welling up in his chest. It was so small, so fragile, he felt that one wrong move from him would crush the kittens body. His heart broke as he heard the squeaks from the kitten. He had heard Alfred the cat speak before, he did not think that cats should sound like that.
Jean-Paul quickly started to run towards Dr. Thompkins home, praying to the almighty that she could help the kitten. He hadn’t known the animal long, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to take it if he was not able to save it, if the kitten died in his hands. Another life lost because of him.
He didn’t even notice when he started crying as he ran, tears and rain mixing together as he ran. He prayed that it was enough, that Dr. Thompkins would be able to help. He ran, and ran, and ran until he was at the doctors door, knocking frantically at her door.
There was no answer.
Jean-Paul’s breath caught in his throat as panic seized him. He didn’t know where to go, didn’t know if there were any vet clinics open this late, didn’t know if he could take the kitten to a human hospital and receive help there, or if there were animal hospitals around. He was crying, begging God for help, begging the almighty to save the kitten in his hands.
The light inside turned on.
The door opened revealing Leslie Thompkins in a robe, looking a little disgruntled at being woken up so suddenly. Her gaze softened slightly as she saw who was at the door. Jean-Paul didn’t know what he looked like, but it likely a sight to see given that he was probably as waterlogged as the kitten in his hands.
He sniffed a little, holding the kitten out before she could say anything, ask why he was banging on her door in the middle of the night. He was crying, he knew that, he didn’t know why he was so scared for this tiny tiny kitten, but he was.
“L-Leslie, please you you have to, you have to-“ his breathing was shaky, his vision blurred by tears as he tried to keep the kitten steady and not shake it, “he he’s so wet- he he can’t die, please please you have to help him-”
Leslie sighed, looking at him with emotions he couldn’t recognize right now. “I I’m sure he’ll be fine, dear. Once we get him out of the cold and dry him off.” She took the kitten from his hands, part of him wanted to take it back, make sure it was safe with his own eyes, “your wearing something under that armor, yes? Go change in the bathroom, you’re not tracking water and dirt into my home.”
He nodded quietly and went to the bathroom to change, it was a really tight fit but he made it work, slowly stripping out of his armor, cringing slightly at the sound his wet cape made as it hit the floor with a wet thump. He tried his best to dry his armor off and squeeze most of the water out of the fabric pieces of his suit, hanging them up over the door to dry as he exited the bathroom to find Leslie drying off the kitten. It was making its displeasure known as it squeaked loudly.
“Is is it-” “It’s fine, Jean-Paul. Just very wet. Not all cats sound the same, and this one seems particularly young.” The doctor explained as she handed the towel wrapped kitten to him.
Jean-Paul was careful handling the kitten, scared that he would hurt it even outside of his armor. The kitten did seem to calm down some in his hold, though he assumed it was because of his body heat. Leslie did have cold hands, so it was likely why the kitten was so displeased with her, at least that’s what he thought.
“You should take it to a vet in the morning, someone who actually deals with animals. Are you planning on keeping it?” Leslie asked, her arms crossed.
“I-I don’t, I don’t know if that’s a good idea, I don’t think I’d be able to take good care of it…” Jean-Paul said, looking down at the kitten in his hands, how it was bundled up in a towel, making it look even smaller.
“Are you sure? I think it would be good for you to have an ESA of some sort, or at least someone to come home to.”
“Someone to come home to?” Jean-Paul asked, his brows furrowing, adjusting his hold on the kitten.
“Everyone need a friend sometimes, Jean-Paul.”
———————————————————————
Jean-Paul ended up taking the kitten home, only realizing how ill prepared his apartment was for a kitten when he got there. Did he need to baby proof the apartment? Did he need to put rubber seals on corners and lock up his chemicals- actually he should probably do that-
He didn’t know the first thing about animals, and neither did Azrael so they were both useless in this situation. The internet was, overwhelming, he didn’t know where to start. Milk, he should start with milk. And heat, that too, in the morning, a vet, and then, he should probably ask the vet or Selina Kyle or find a way to ask Damian without getting his head torn off by the child’s siblings and father. They were the only three he knew who would be knowledgeable about cats and how to properly care for them. He should probably give it a name. Did he need to know it’s sex before that? Or could he just name it anything.
Upon further research he found he could just make it anything. Which was good, but then naming something was a little harder. He never had to come up with a vigilante name, an alter ego, not like the other vigilantes, his was his fathers and his fathers before him, it wasn’t unique to him alone.
He started looking up name lists and just, saying them out loud, seeing which one felt right. The kitten wasn’t a Snowball, he knew that. Ash? No. Cassidy? No. Theodore, nope no, didn’t need anymore reminders of that guy- Joseph? Hm. Maybe. The kitten didn’t seem to like any of those names, and the kitten should have a name that it liked.
“Amanda? Lenore? Bumblebee? Trashcan? George-“ “mrrp?” The kitten perked up at George, its small head poking up from the blanket Jean-Paul had it wrapped in on his lap.
“George? Do you like George?” He asked, gently petting and scratching the kittens head, the tiny thing squeaked softly, purring as it butted its head against his hand.
“George, you’ll be George then…” He smiled softly at the tiny, grey, ball of fluff. Maybe having a little friend around wouldn’t be so bad…