It seemed to take hours for the screaming -- both vocal and mental -- to stop, for the agony to ease back into exhaustion.
Eat
, he sent again, dragging a piece of meat with his paw, settling it in front of Cather.
The sweet kit sighed, staring at the food, and it was Hill who came closer, slowly feeding Cather. Jag purred his approval.
Good job
. He watched Cather eat, pleased that at last the kit was getting the nutrition he needed to begin to heal.
Never heal. The pain never leaves
.
You’ll heal
. It happened. The kits would find a way to live with the pain and the memories. Come to terms with them and move on. It was his job to help them.
He began to groom Cather, slow and steady, tongue dragging over Cather’s rough fur. He rejoiceed when Cather let him, when the kit continued to eat, filling what was no doubt a very empty belly.
He gave Hill the occasional lick, too, the sweet kit purring every time he did. Hill head-butted him, sharing scent and peace and a hint of curiosity.
Soon. Soon he would let Hill explore, but first he had to see to Cather’s meal. Make sure the reluctant kit got his fill.
No more. No more. So tired.
Water
, he insisted. Then the kit could rest again.
Cather lapped up the water, then crawled under the bed again, disappearing.
Jag allowed it, taking the food, drink and grooming as a very good sign. He turned his attention to Hill, holding the kit down as he began grooming the thick fur. Hill didn’t fight, didn’t fuss. In fact, he stretched out and welcomed the touches. Jag enjoyed the grooming, the closeness it engendered. Sweet kit. He could get used to this.
Is he going to leave me? Cather?
No. Cather has eaten and drunk water. If he was going to let go, he wouldn’t have let anything convince him to do that. He just needs time.
Darri left us
. The thought was pure agony, a deep, tiger-shaped loss.
I’m sorry.
He was. Very sorry. There was so much loss between these two. Jag stepped up his grooming.
Yes
. Hill purred softly and relaxed underneath him.
He curled up around the sweet kit, rumbling gently, still licking idly. Hill slowly groomed Jag’s paw in return, so careful. He purred his approval and nudged Hill’s head, encouraging him. This little one just wanted someone to love, someone to care for. Jag was totally willing to be that someone.
Jag blinked at his own thoughts. There it was again. Him thinking of the kits as something permanent in his life. And he had to admit the more he thought it, the better it sounded.
Pretty blackness. Sleek and strong
. The thoughts were random but clear, ringing like a tiny bell.
Strong. Yes. Will protect you
. He wasn’t going to let anything bad ever happen to the kits again. He licked Hill’s muzzle.
Cather? You’ll be good to him?
Both of you
. Bonded pair. He knew better than to try to split them up. Between the fact that they were mated and that they’d gone through a terrible time together, they were likely to be unable to function without the other. Hell, Pirou’d said that they’d already tried separating them to extremely ill effects.
Hill’s purr grew louder and louder, someone obviously pleased.
Sweet kit.
Jag pushed away the thought that he would have to keep them both. That totally wasn’t how this worked. Of course, he also thought maybe that didn’t matter.
Cather sighed softly as he heard Hill wandering around the new room. He didn’t have to look. He didn’t care. He was going to wait here until he knew Hill was safe. Then he could go.
The door opened, that Jag person coming in. “I’ve got more food, boys.”
Once upon a time he would have waited for Darri to eat, then they would have taken their turns. He didn’t even want a turn anymore.
“I had Chinese delivered. Do you guys like Chinese?” Jag shook the bags.
Hill yowled happily, paws bouncing on the wood floor.
Traitor
, Cather accused.
Hill didn’t even answer. Maybe Hill couldn’t hear him anymore.
“Come and eat, Cather.” Jag opened the food containers, then came over to where Cather was, crouching next to him. “Don’t you like Chinese?”
Cather didn’t like anything anymore. His soul was broken. He blinked at Jag, then hid his muzzle under his tail. Jag touched him, fingers digging into his fur.
“I’m not going to let you disappear, Cather. I won’t.”
How could that be fair? Darri waited for him. Sometimes he dreamed he could hear his master singing for him.
Jag kept touching, like he was preventing Cather from going by touch alone. “There’s crispy fried beef and General Tso’s chicken and noodles. Pot stickers.”
Hill stretched and groaned, the sound nearly human.
“Don’t be jealous, Hill. I’ll come give you scratches, too. Why don’t you start on the food in the meantime?”
“Not jealous.”
Cather’s eyes flew open wide. Human? Hill had shifted?
Jag turned his head, eyes going wide. “Oh, look at you. You’re gorgeous.”
Of course Hill was gorgeous. Hill was lovely -- blond and stocky, muscled and fuzzy. He was taller as a man, but less heavyset.
Jag stood and went to Hill. “You’re truly lovely.” Jag touched Hill’s cheek.
Cather harrumphed and pushed deeply under the bed, hiding in the shadows.
“Now he’s jealous,” Jag said.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to…” Hill sounded so sad, but Cather refused to respond to it.
“I was teasing, little one.” Jag stroked Hill’s cheek again. “Now what was it you wanted to do, Hill?”
“I’d love to try the chopsticks.”
Jag grabbed something from the nearly empty bag and handed it over to Hill. “There you go. Sit, eat. Chinese food tastes better as a human, anyway.”
“It does. It was Cather’s favorite treat.”
“Oh. Cather?” Jag came over to where Cather was hiding beneath the bed. “Come and eat. Please?” Jag had nice eyes. Kind. Dark. Deep.
As a cat, those eyes were a shocking green. Cather’s never changed. He never could pass as a normal human, never. It was one of the reasons he didn’t do it very often.
Jag smiled. “You don’t have to shift, Cather. You can eat Chinese as a cat, even if it’s tastier as a human.”
Get out of my head
.
Jag narrowed his eyes for a moment, then closed them, then he shook his head. “I’m not in your head. Not as a human. You can communicate with me, though. Weird, huh?”
Weird. More than. Cather didn’t want anyone to hear him anymore. Especially not new people.
Jag reached out and slid a hand across the top of Cather’s head, then dragged it back, fingers digging in this time. “You don’t have to shift or eat right now. But I’m not going to let you hide forever. Neither will Hill.”
The touch felt so good for a moment that Cather’s eyes crossed.
Jag practically purred, fingers digging deeper. “I promise, it is okay to feel something good.” The words were soft but carried a lot of weight with them.
Jag didn’t understand. No one did. Cather didn’t remember good things.
Suddenly, Jag reached down, almost pouncing on him, and wrapped him in a hug. The embrace startled a cry from him and he flailed for a moment, but Jag didn’t let go.
“I’ve got you, Cather. I’ve got you.” Jag held and stroked and rocked him. “Sweet boy, I hear you. It hurts, but you must breathe again.”
He yowled through the pure pain. He couldn’t.
“You can. You can do it. You just have to believe.” Jag rocked him slowly, matching him, breath for breath, arms strong yet gentle.
He didn’t know what to do with the kindness. With the strength that didn’t threaten or hurt. Finally, he went boneless and let himself feel.
“Pretty kitty, so beautiful, such soft fur.” The words, like the touches, flowed over him. It felt so safe, so right, and guilt flooded him for enjoying it.
He’d want us to find life again
, Hill insisted.
Darri would want us with him so we could be safe
. Wouldn’t he? Wasn’t that right?
He would want us safe but not dead. And we are safe
.
Hill didn’t know what he was talking about. How could they know they were safe here? How could they ever be safe and happy without Darri?
It feels right, Cather. But I need my heart with me. I need you. Please, do you need me, too?
Sometimes he forgot that Hill was younger than him, more naive and innocent. Clearly more trusting than he. He was broken and he knew it. He understood that he couldn’t give Hill the things they both needed. He could wait, though, until Hill had bonded with Jag, should the big cat prove himself.
Of course I need you
.
“You guys are having a conversation, aren’t you?” Jag was still petting him, those fingers like magic and very hard to ignore.
“Can’t you hear him?” Hill looked over at Jag, eyes wide. “Can you hear me?”
“I can hear you when you’re ‘talking’ to me. I can’t seem to talk to you in your head while I’m human, though.” Jag pursed his lips. “I imagine the two of you have a much stronger bond and connection.”
“We’ve been together for a long, long time.”
“There you go. I’ve never been able to communicate with anyone like that. Ever. Not even my littermates.” Jag went back to touching Cather.
“We were bought at different places. Darri took us both to train.”
Cather refused to remember those dark days before their master helped them.
“What happened to Darri?” Jag asked softly, like he knew it might be a sore subject.
“We were performing and the bow went off early. He jumped in front of the arrow to save us.”
Our fault
. They thought it together.
This was our fault
.
“Not your fault. It was the fault of the man wielding the bow and arrow,” Jag told them.
You don’t know
! Cather snarled, furious.
He died for us! He hurt for us!
He was frightened. His beautiful, perfect master had been so scared. And it was all because of them.
“
For
you, yes. But you didn’t shoot the arrow early. You weren’t in the wrong place. He did it
for
you but not
because
of you. There’s a difference!” Jag insisted.
Hill frowned. “Does it matter? He’s still dead.”
“It does. You’re blaming yourself and it wasn’t your fault, so you have guilt on top of everything else.”
“It was our fault. He saved us.”
Died for us
, Cather reminded Hill.
Jag sighed. “It’s a stage of grief, I suppose. And I’ll let you have it, for now. As long as it isn’t debilitating. And as long as you remember that he died so you could live. Do you think he would want you to curl up and fade away?”
“No,” Hill said, but Cather didn’t answer. He didn’t know. He knew that he was tired and sad and in a strange place with a strange man. He didn’t even know if he could leave.
“Then you should live,” Jag said softly. “And I know it’s not as easy as just saying it, but it’s a goal.”
“Can we please have food now?” Hill asked. “Please?”
“Of course,” Jag agreed right away. Then he turned to Cather. “If you don’t want to come eat, I’ll bring you the leftovers.”
Not hungry
. Cather sighed and pushed himself out of Jag’s arms, finding a comfortable place to settle on the bed.
Jag shook his head. “I’ll go get you some fresh meat, kit.”
“He’ll eat later. He’s sad. Come eat with me, Jag? I’m lonely.” Hill sounded part angry, part wistful, but mostly needy.
Cather sighed. All he had to do now was wait. The lines of mating were forming between Hill and Jag, and then Cather could slip away and no one would even notice he was gone.
“He’ll eat later. He’s sad. Come eat with me, Jag? I’m lonely.” Hill needed food and touches, and for this emptiness to stop. “Where is this place? Can we go outside?”
Jag gave Cather one last pat, then came over, standing close, hand sliding along Hill’s spine. “This is a place where we take in shifters who are in need of rescue. Like you and Cather. And you’re not in prison here. We can go out, though I suggest waiting a few days until you’re well-settled.” Jag handed him a pair of chopsticks.
Hill took them, practicing for a few seconds before his body remembered how. “They were going to kill us, too. That’s why you came?”
Jag nodded. “My brother, Pirou. He had his ears to the ground, hears things about shifters in trouble.” Jag stroked a hand along Hill’s spine again, warm and good. “This is a safe place, and everyone who is rescued gets someone to come in and help them.”
“Oh.” Hill worked on that thought while he ate. So Jag was here for them, but they were not there to be Jag’s? “Do you help all the people?”
Jag shook his head. “Only some. I work with actual animals in my day job. I’ve had four other cases here. But you and Cather…” Jag shut his mouth tight and shook his head, but Hill thought he heard “special” through their bond. Could they even have a bond with Jag if he wasn’t meant to be theirs?
“We work in the circus, but only as cats.” Cather had a deformity as a human and couldn’t wander freely like Hill could.
“Did they know you were shifters?” Jag asked, spearing a dumpling and offering it over.
Hill snapped it up, chewing happily. “Who? Darri did.”
“Did the circus owners know Darri and Cather and you were shifters? The ones who killed him and were going to kill the two of you?” Jag growled the words out.
“Darri and me, yes. No one knew about Cather. Cather was only a man when Master Darri ordered it.”
“And they still killed him? And were going to kill you?” Jag sounded absolutely outraged--his face darkened with anger.
“We killed him. He died for us.” Jag didn’t understand. If you didn’t work, you were punished. But they hadn’t cared. They didn’t want to make the people gasp and clap anymore.