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ratcatcher0325 · 2 years ago

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A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #29)

Chapter #29. Alexander tells his story. Natalie listens with rapt attention. Alexander does not mind this. Not one bit.

Previous: Chapter #28

Next: Chapter #30

Word Count: 7,629 Read Time: Approx. 59 mins

CW: adult language, angst, allusions to medical abuse

Tag list: @gatlily @patrocolus3 @beautifulunknowntrash @titan-god-420 @andraimeide @themarlo @cup-o-chai @lucentbliss @raccoontoaster @tolsizedlove @not-a-space-alien , @thegodmother007 , @honey-olive , @bittykimmy13 , @aceouttatime , @imvenusasaboy , @liminaldaze , @windshield-patent , @joxter-coded , @rosella35 , @narrans , @rubeau-art , @littlescaryinternetguy , @jae-from-discord , @kitn-underfoot , @secretly-small @writing-forever , @iinogongju , @tales-of-aestus-deactivated2023 , @itsgothgirlthyme , @make-me-giant , @reborrowing , @whatthisfemsheplikes , @soapysoap69

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A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #29: Flock Together

[Alexander’s POV]

My lips, teeth and tongue were abuzz with the vibration of my vocal cords as I gave voice to the images that terrorized my inner eye. A mist of sweat formed on my brow, as heat rose from my woozy stomach and thundering heart. It was as though I was watching myself speak, as if I were a spectator of my own testimonial. I could hear and feel myself talking, while also noticing, with intrigue, how somewhat removed and numb I was about the whole affair. Perhaps this was my brain’s way of protecting me from the sharp, psychological pain of the ordeal. I sat upright in the bed, locking eyes with those large golden orbs, as I felt a clenching in my throat and a stiffening in my spine.

While sitting outside myself, everything seemed to move at a snail’s pace, as though the element of time had been dipped in amber honey. I observed, with quiet fascination, the dust motes swirling in the currents of air she created as she shifted side to side. I felt the cool, clutching texture of the crisp, white sheets against my fingertips. As blood coursed in my veins with each pump of my heart, I could count each exhale as my body fought valiantly to maintain an equilibrium of sorts.

But the thing that stunned me the most, was the way she was looking at me. Not with condescension or hollow pity, but with a brow knit deeply and earnestly in gut-wrenching sorrow. From the moment I began to speak, her body had sunk with a gravity of guilt and horror, deeper into her chair, her eyes alight with… was that compassion? For me? This human, who I’d only very recently begun to tolerate, was genuinely listening to me. Suffice it to say, this was a brand new sensation.

The sound of my own voice, ringing in my ears, returned to the forefront of my mind, as I continued, “… As it turns out, they were right to bicker over the proper dose of anesthetic, because they clearly administered far less than they should have…” The bracing of her body was impossible to ignore, her brow furrowed more deeply as she feared what I was going to say next. In fact, I swore I could hear a hitching of breath as she anticipated her own worst fears, “So… after I was put under, I found myself coming to on the operating table.” She stared down at me wide-eyed and shocked, “I overheard their voices… they said something about taking advantage of your concern over me to push for surgery, that it was a pursuit of profit not careful practice. They openly acknowledged that they were the ones to strain my leg enough to break. I heard them, Natalie. Ah, I wish I could remember the exact amount… 0.3 or 0.2 milliliters of… Buprenorphine? I believe? That’s most common for anything weighing less than 10 ounces, from the literature I’ve read—“ I looked up to see her pen come to a sudden halt. She looked at the paper, littered with chicken scratch in blue ink on brighter blue lines. After a moment, I cleared my throat, “…Do you need me to spell it for you?”

She stopped looming over the page and met my gaze. Her expression puzzled me, “What?” I asked, already a bit annoyed. Was she offended I’d offered?

Seeing my confusion, she spoke softly, her head tilted slightly to my left, as her eyes lit up, “You are so fucking smart, Alexander.” Was she being sarcastic?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I felt my defenses prick up as I wondered if she was teasing me.

She immediately looked confused and taken aback, “I’m being serious. Don’t cross your arms and mean mug at me. I was trying to give you a compliment. You’re incredibly intelligent. I mean who the hell just knows how to spell bupreenophrene or whatever the hell just off the top of their head?” I opened my mouth to correct her obvious blunder but she held out a single index finger and quickly interrupted me, “Don’t be a wise ass. I know I didn’t say it right. It doesn’t matter. My point is, you impress me with that brain of yours… just don’t let it go to your head, alright?” I stayed quiet, relaxing my defensive posture. She sighed too, both of us coming down from the heat of the moment. She rested her chin atop her clenched fist and made eye contact, “I completely understand why you’re touchy. Pretty much every time you interact with a human, all they do is coo at you and condescend. I’m sorry. I know I’m guilty of that too. But, I don’t know what more I need to say to tell you I’m on your side in all this. I wanna help, not hurt you. Okay? Now, will you please continue?”

She raised back up to sitting, clutching her pen between her fingers. I admit, I appreciated her apology and burgeoning self awareness. She really was starting to listen to me. I’d certainly categorize that as a win, and, sure, her complimenting my superior intellect didn’t hurt either. Adjusting myself slightly to get a better view of her, now so high above, I continued, “Well… As the anesthesia began to prematurely wear off, that’s when my nerve endings really came back and I could… I could feel my knee, cut open and… I flailed and shouted and they pinned me down, but not before he, the veterinarian, lodged the scalpel in my leg, somewhere inside the incision…” My throat tightened up as the pain washed through me, as well as the fear: the pure, animalistic, paralyzing fear of being utterly helpless beneath the razor sharp blade of my natural enemy. I kept seeing that font of blood spewing from my rent flesh. The way those massive, gloved fingers had ripped it out without so much as a glance down at me. The overwhelming pain, my dipping consciousness. A woman with kind eyes behind glasses, appearing above me, “…There was someone else there who actually displayed compassion. I believe… no, I’m certain she saved my life. I likely would have bled to death without her… She promised me she’d return me to you. She said that I had to go under again, but that I could trust she wouldn’t let anyone touch me until I’d been reunited with you. Though I had no other recourse, I chose to trust her. Evidently she delivered on her word…” I couldn’t help the fraction of a smile that raised the corner of my mouth, as I returned my gaze to the woman peering down at me. To have survived, to have been reunited with a human who, in her own flawed way, cared about me, seemed no small feat. I had the young woman with gentle, gloved hands and an empathetic, shimmering smile to thank for that, “…She wore wire frame glasses—“

“—With big hazel eyes? Her name was something with an L? Lilly? Laura?” Natalie was nodding rigorously in recognition, as she spoke, fighting to recall the woman’s name. I couldn’t help but catch her fever, gesturing widely.

“—Yes! Lindsey! Her name was Lindsey! You met her? Did she hand me back to you?”

Her brow furrowed, her eyes seeming wetter than before, and nodded, “She kept her word. She brought you directly to me. She placed you right into my hands. You were completely passed out… You… You looked so…” She bit her lip, as her eyes brimmed with crystalline tears, “I was so worried about you. I was pacing back and forth the whole time. They assured me surgery was the only option. I— I am so sorry, Alexander. This is all on me. I take full responsibility. I’m the one who took you there, I signed off on the operation. I let them hurt you. I was just so worried, when you got so sick, so fast, I-I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. All I wanted was to take care of you, but, instead, I did this to you. I gave you away to those monsters. This is all my fault. I am so, so deeply sorry, Alexander. I… I care about you more than I can say. You didn’t deserve any of this. I never meant to… Look, I completely understand if you can’t forgive me, just know, I feel so, so bad that it happened—“ Her voice cracked as her brow twinged, one tear rolling down the length of her cheek. Seconds later, the dam broke and she sobbed, burying her head in her hands.

There, too, my resolve cracked. I didn’t feel so numb anymore, so distant, or removed. Seeing her in pain directly before me, reignited my emotions, and I found myself hurting because she was. Was I really pitying a human being? Was she really shedding tears for my sake? Did she actually care as much as she claimed about this miniature mockery of a man who sat before her?

She blamed herself, and I could understand why: she felt responsible, that she ‘should have known better’. How could she have known they were breaking federal mandates? Her shoulders trembled as she continued weeping. I could see she was spiraling, “Natalie? Natalie, hey, it’s alright…” Her bloodshot eyes appeared behind a screen of dark, wavy hair, her brow pinched and sorrowful, “Give me your hand…” She just stared at me, wide-eyed and frozen, “Come on, I won’t bite… this time, I promise…” She broke into a smirk, that hint of a smile brightening her tear stained face, as she shook her head.

“This is all backwards, you’re the one who was traumatized, why are you comforting me?” She wiped away the trails of moisture on her cheek with the back of her hand, before settling and offering me her right pointer finger.

I clutched it with both hands, cradling the pad in my right hand and stroking the side and nail bed with my left, “I don’t blame you for what happened…” Her eyes immediately brimmed with tears again, as she blinked hard and turned away, “Natalie, Natalie look at me, please… It’s not your fault.” She shook her head, biting her lip, losing the battle to keep from crying, “You did the best you could. You take good care of me. No, don’t shake your head, you do. I wouldn’t be alive today if it weren’t for you. That’s true! It’s not your fault…” I squeezed the tip of her finger and that seemed to push her over the edge. She cried again, eyes glowing with flecks of green behind the waterfall of her tears. I admit, her weeping made me well up, myself. For the first time in my life, a human wept for me. Someone so much bigger than myself responded to my pain with tears in her eyes and a gentle coaxing voice. Never in my life did I think such a thing was possible. I could never fault her for her compassion.

“May I touch you? Can I move your arm?” She choked out, between sobs. I nodded in the affirmative, heart thundering against my ribs. My agreement to her proposal made her cry harder for some reason I couldn’t understand. She flipped my hand over so it was now facing palm down against her upturned finger, the ridges of her fingertip now visible to me. She rubbed the back of my hand with her thumb, engulfing it, but still managed to be incredibly gentle. She moved my hand a little further away from my body, and flashed her eyes at me as she leaned down, slowly, slowly, and sank her lips into my outstretched fingers. The nerves in my hand were on fire, my heart was threatening to escape the walls of my ribcage. She’d only kissed me once before, and this brush of my skin to her lips was no less potent than the last. I did everything I could to keep my cool, I was done for if she caught on to just how much she was affecting me. As she pulled away, she stared down lovingly at my splayed fingers, rubbing with her thumb again, “I love these hands. You have such beautiful, little, delicate hands…” Normally I’d roll my eyes and groan at a comment like that, but her gaze told me, it was entirely in earnest. My heart fluttered in my chest and I felt a twisting sensation in my stomach.

Finally, she stifled a laugh and gently placed my hand on my thigh. Releasing the grip of her finger and thumb, she apologized, “I’m sorry. Like I said, this is about me being there for you, not the other way around… But, thank you, for comforting me. You really can be a sweetheart when you want to be, can’t you?”

I felt like I suddenly sat up just a bit taller, “I’ve no clue what you’re talking about…” I crossed my arms over my chest in defiance, while grinning just enough to give away my joke, “I don’t mind helping a human while she throws a big fuss over nothing every now and again…” She rolled her eyes and smirked, as I continued, “But do you really want to know how you can make it up to me?” With rapt attention and wide eyes, she rested her chin on her fist before my bedside, her gaze now only an inch or so above my eye-line. She was so close, I could feel the warm gust of her breath. I focused on keeping my voice steady and resonant, “You can help me take them down.” I cocked an eyebrow, awaiting a response I was already fairly confident in.

“You kidding?! I’ll do anything and everything I can, Alexander. I promise.” Her finger gently tapped my left knee as a small gesture of reassurance. I liked the warmth of her touch, how gentle it was. I was sorry when she pulled away.

*************

His little face twisted, and his brow furrowed, as if he was struggling with how to proceed. I stayed very still, watching him battle himself, trying my best to be patient, even though I was dying to know just what he was thinking. Finally, those blazing blue eyes locked on mine, “You really mean that, Natalie?” Of course, I do, sweetheart, “You’re not just placating me? Or pacifying your own guilt? You would actually help me take legal action against them?”

He was tense, uncertain, wary. Poor thing. I couldn’t blame him. How many times had his heart been broken by humans who’d promised to stand by him? I felt tears rush to the corners of my eyes again, as I spoke softly, returning his gaze, “Alexander, I want to help you. In any and every way possible. I believe in you. You are remarkable and I’m so so lucky to have you here with me. You wanna go for their throats? I’ll sharpen my nails. I told you I’d help you dig their graves myself, I meant that—“

“Why?” His sudden cut off stopped me in my tracks.

I could only sputter in response,“W-what? What do you mean, ‘why’?”

“Why… why are you so willing to help me? It’s not like I can compensate you financially, there’s nothing I can do to reciprocate the gesture. What is the benefit to you? I’m just supposed to believe in good faith that you’ll never grow tired of acting out of the goodness of your heart or whatever excuse you’re using to justify your motivations?”

My heart sank. Did he really not understand how much I cared and what I saw in him? “Are you worried I have some sort of hidden agenda? That I’m offering to help or that I’m pretending to help for my own selfish gain? Is that what you’re getting at?” He crossed his arms over his chest, obscuring the lettering on his sweatshirt, and shrugged, staring back defiantly, waiting for me to answer my own question, “I know you’re used to people being selfish. I know you are constantly on edge, expecting some sort of passive aggression or hidden agenda. I see it in your eyes almost every time I try to touch you or pick you up, that flicker of doubt, that fear. You still don’t trust me. And that’s okay. You’ve had a lifetime of broken promises and a handful of days with a dumb, clumsy human who’s learning as she goes just how to do right by you. I know I infuriate and offend you almost every day, but… fuck… I’m trying, okay? You’re teaching me and I’m trying my best to learn. Look, I’m being straight with you. I want to help because I think you’re a person worth helping. I take care of you because I genuinely want to. I like having you in my life, Alexander. But please don’t think I’m trying to possess you or that I’m doing this to hold it over your head later. I know you’re scared. You try really hard to be brave, and you are, you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. But I know you’re scared, too. Who wouldn’t be? I guess… what I’m trying to say is… if you’ll let me in, you don’t have to go through this frightened and alone.”

He stared at the surface of the dresser with his piercing gaze, the inner gears of his mind turning rapidly. He seemed to be at an extraordinarily rare loss for words. I broke the ice with a soft voice, “May I ask you a question and will you promise to be honest with me?” His head snapped up to meet my gaze, apprehension and worry clouding his eyes. Yet, somehow, he nodded, slightly, agreeing to my terms, “You’re scared after all your fighting you’ll end up right back where you started, aren’t you? There’s this gnawing worry at the back of your mind that in spite of everything, you’re going to end up the plaything of a human who will never see you for what you’re capable of being. Is that about right?”

He was taken aback, color drained from his face. He hadn’t expected me to read him cover to cover like that. Without looking up, he folded his hands in his lap and mumbled, his little voice even quieter than normal making it quite hard to hear, “I… suppose the thought had crossed my mind.”

I tried not to be hurt by the realization that he still believed I’d treat him like that, and rested my chin on the polished wood ‘floor’ searching for his gaze, “Give me a chance to prove to you that I’m worthy of your trust, okay? When I told you I wanted to help you take those fuckers down, I meant it. Will you let me help you?”

He looked lost in thought for a moment, staring straight ahead. After a few heartbeats, as I gazed at him at eye level, I watched him set his jaw and blink before meeting my eyes, “Okay, Ms. Marquez, you have yourself a deal.” Slowly, he offered his hand to shake. When the pad of my finger slid into his outstretched palm, dwarfing it, I couldn’t help the rush of blood to my cheeks. I hoped the light from behind was enough to mask my flustered face. I gently held his tiny hand between my finger and thumb while he shook it with the strength and confidence of a much bigger man. He was quick to wriggle free, though, which disappointed me; I would’ve liked to have held and marveled at his little hand all day. Still. I couldn’t help but notice a sudden rosy tint to his tiny cheeks, even as he pulled away. Suddenly, I realized he was speaking to me, his tone of voice immediately irritated, “… Natalie? Hello? Are you paying attention?”

What had gotten into me? We’d shared a nice moment of solidarity and now I was caught staring, lost in thought. Upon hearing him, I snapped out of it, blinking hard, “Hmmm?” I’d been so caught up in his little features! Could I really be blamed? It wasn’t often he’d let me get this close. If we both stayed very still, I could almost make out his microscopic eyelashes, fringing those brilliant eyes with that fiercely intelligent spark behind them. His disheveled hair flopped in strands along his brow looking as stormy and malcontent as the sharp tone in his voice which still rang in my ears. What a strange little contradiction he was: delicate, yet bold, tiny, yet larger than life, vulnerable yet unafraid. He had every reason to be a trembling mess, reliving such horrible memories, but, instead, I could see this fire burning within him, this vindictive, righteous anger that moved him to great passion and, which, in this moment, he was taking out on me.

“What’re you ogling at me for? Don’t tell me I just spilled my guts to you, only to have you stare at me all starry-eyed like I’m some adorable kitten. It’s rude to stare, Ms. Marquez, has no one ever taught you that?” My cheeks burned. I was being taken to task by a man I could put in my pocket, “...So?? Are you going to just sit there, blinking like an idiot or are we going to get to work?”

******

Whatever had distracted her before seemed to be quickly quelled by my direct questioning. She sprang into action, setting up her phone, on a small metal stand in a horizontal position. This set the device at about the height of my lap, when she brought my desk chair and placed it directly in front. Once she’d finished setting everything up, she returned to where I sat and leaned down, “You ready?” I nodded, preparing myself to be picked up, but she continued, “I have one more little surprise for you. Close your eyes.”

“I’m not a child, Natalie, you can just show me—“

“Aw, c’mon sourpuss! Let me have this. I like surprising you with shit so maybe one day you’ll decide you actually like me.” She begged in a teasing way and I couldn’t help from chuckling. She clocked that immediately, “Ha ha, yeah I know. Fat chance. But c’mon, let me enjoy this. Please?” I rolled my eyes, sighed performatively and finally shut my windows to the world like she’d asked, “Okay, put out your hands…” I heard the grinding sound of wood, like a drawer opening, and then a rustle of fingers far too big for the dimensions of the comparatively tiny desk drawer as she fished about for whatever it was. Then, something landed in my hands and I was granted permission to open my eyes.

While it was wrapped and sealed in obnoxious packaging, with print scaled for human eyes, what I found in my hands still made me smile in spite of myself. Placed inside my opened palms were two spiral notebooks and a pair of already sharpened pencils scaled to me. After two decades of scrounging through trash and scraps for paper and anything to write with, I now had legitimate means to record my thoughts for the very first time in my life. It meant far more to me than she could possibly understand.

“What do you think? Do you like them?” I could see she was anxious for my approval. What a curious circumstance I found myself in, where a human was desperate for my opinion. It was far from a disagreeable position to be in. Still, all I could manage to respond with was a nod to keep from getting emotional. I turned my attention to freeing them from the packaging, the clear plastic being far thicker and more robust than I’d expected. Watching me struggle, she leaned in, fingertips looming ever closer, “Here, you want help?”

I hugged the items closer to my chest, “I’m fine, thank you.” Her lips tightened slightly, clearly disappointed she wasn’t allowed to do it for me. I admit, I felt a smug satisfaction even as I struggled to muster the strength to rip it open, that she didn’t just snatch it from my grip and tear into it anyway. I’d trained this human well. She was learning. Suddenly, she gasped, making me jump and search her face for clues.

“Aw shit!”

“What is it now?” I admit, I was annoyed. All I wanted was to start my research and she was getting in the way of that, even if she had the best of intentions. In the wake of her outburst, I managed to (finally) open the packaging, gripping the contents inside the busted plastic pouch.

“I just remembered, you’re left handed. Those spiral notebooks are gonna suck for you, aren’t they? I can’t believe I didn’t think of that! Here, I can return them…”

She reached for them again. I pulled away. Was she really incapable of thinking this through? Without saying a word, I held one of the note books in my lap, my pencil pinched between my fingers. The glossy black paint on the wooden writing instrument rivaled the black and white marbling on the notebook covers. Gesturing broadly to make sure my movements were distinctly legible for her, I flipped the notebook once, along its horizontal axis so that the back of the book was now facing skyward and then rotated it 180 degrees clockwise, so that the spiral binding was now clutched in my right hand. Without missing a beat I opened the book to its very first (technically, last) page, and scribbled “DON'T RETURN” as large as I could across the blue lined paper and then held it up for her.

“Okay, now I feel like a fucking dumbass…” she held her face in her hand, sighing and shaking her head in a moment of self deprecation.

“Well, I wasn’t going to be the one to say it out loud… but now that you mention it…” I smirked up at her, not at all dissatisfied with my own joke. She immediately began to laugh, groaning in mock disdain.

“Come here…” her fingers slid around and beneath me and I suddenly found myself lifted high in the air, seated amongst a web of fingers. My heart leapt to my throat as she held me before her eyes, splayed out in her hand. I was feeling rather small, now, plucked up so easily and held aloft before those familiar, wide eyes, “What’s your problem, huh? Why are you so mean? I do all these nice things to help you and now you’re calling me a dumbass?” She dug a fingertip, teasingly, into my chest, I squirmed against her touch, batting her away.

“You called yourself one, I said no such thing!” I lifted up my hands in a gesture to show I took no responsibility. She rolled her eyes, and stood with me cradled in her hand, before crossing the room to stand before her desk. I’m so close to finally beginning my life’s work anew. I was a mere few feet away…. If she could just put me down…

“I mean for real, I have a whole ass undergrad degree and am about to graduate from law school… and you just hung me out to dry! Are you really that much smarter than me or am I just way stupider than I thought?”

“Yes, yes… Now, please, let’s get started, shall we?” I attempted my best polite smile, clapping my hands together and sitting up inside her palm, trying to coax her into lowering me into my chair. She didn’t budge an inch.

“What do you mean, ‘Yes’? You don’t really think I’m stupid do you? I’ll have you know I graduated fourth in my class in undergrad, little sir! Besides, there are different kinds of intelligences. You just happen to be particularly book smart—“

“—Book smart, yes, got it! Speaking of that, I think the best way to keep getting smarter is to conduct research. Expand my horizons, all that. So with that in mind—“

“Besides, I’m like, ninety percent certain two of the people ahead of me my senior year were cheating to get perfect grades…” she kept talking, “I’m still convinced I coulda gone head to head with Jack Lahey for salutatorian!” And talking, “But not Lindsay Ellyach, she was like, inhumanly smart— I’d never be able to out do her! Not even now!! She was the valedictorian…” With no sign of letting up, she carried on, full steam ahead, “…It’d be fun to pit you against her and see if you could give her a run for her money… she was actually always really nice though, which honestly made it even more annoying—“

“Natalie!!” I was too exasperated, I couldn’t help myself.

“Oh. Oh my god. I’m talking too much aren’t I? Poor thing, you just want to get your nerd on and start working on this and here I am keeping you. I’m sorry. Here…”

True to her word she gently lowered me down into my swivel chair. Handing me back the notebook and pencil that had slid into the center of her palm once I’d begun moving about. I gripped these items with firm yet clammy hands. This was it! Here I was about to do something I never thought possible: openly researching unfair practices against my kind, directly in front of, and with the full support of a human being.

“Alexander?” Her voice, timid and apologetic, rang from high above my left shoulder. That is, until she adjusted herself to rest her head down, close to where I was, “Are you mad at me?” She stared at me with bright, pleading eyes, before her hand approached and she flicked my hair from my eyes with the brush of her thumb.

I snarled and wrenched away, “I’m too busy to be mad at you. Please, I just want to work on this in peace.” I had no patience to be the steward of a needy human’s emotions right now.

She was quick to respect my wishes, turning her attention to her own massive screen, simply adding, she was “happy to help” in any way she could. When I glanced over my shoulder, I could see she had her coursework up.

Finally, a moment of blessed, uninterrupted silence for me to get to work! I was so giddy I could’ve giggled like a little kid. Cracking my knuckles, I flipped open my brand new, beautiful notebook, with its perfectly proportionate blue lined paper, to the next fresh page. I proceeded to format my page for notes in the same way I’d seen executed hundreds, if not thousands of times, by a man with a watery blue, cataract-filled gaze, and short temper.

No time to think of him now, I had justice to pursue and legal precedents on my side. I may as well have measured nine feet tall today, what with all the probability of victory I already possessed. I traced my lower lip with a pointer finger as I leaned in to operate the phone’s internet browser.

As soon as my fingertips pressed into the colorful glass display, Natalie let out a forlorn sigh. As I craned my neck, I watched as she tucked a strand of curls behind her ear, her expression twisted into a pout.

If it had been any other human, I probably would’ve jeered and berated her for getting so upset over such a minor thing. But for some reason, when it came to Natalie, I suddenly had a heavy conscience. I didn’t like seeing her upset. What was wrong with me? I was getting soft.

“Natalie?” She suddenly seemed quite absorbed in her work, as if she couldn’t be bothered with me. Ah, so that’s how it feels. My face flushed hot. I tried again, leaning to tug on her sleeve right at the bend in her elbow, which rested within arm’s reach, “Natalie…”

“What?” She was cold, annoyed. A pang of guilt washed through me. All of a sudden, I felt uncharacteristically small and timid, staring up at this woman who towered over me, wanting to repair the damage I’d done.

“I can see I’ve hurt your feelings…” an olive branch.

Would she take it?

“No. I’m good. Just trying to get this done. Do you need something?” Well, that was a resounding no then. So much for trying to be vulnerable. If she wanted to play games, fine, then, it was my turn.

“Why are you being so childishly passive aggressive? You’re very clearly upset, you’re actively pouting and you threw a fit just moments ago. I’m apologizing. Isn’t that what you wanted?” Why did humans always have to change the rules to fit their narrative? It made no sense to me. What did she want me to do?

She was quick to raise a brow at me before she retorted, “I’m being childish?! Really? That’s funny, because last I checked that wasn’t even an apology. You just made a statement. Look, I’m trying to keep my cool here, but you don’t get to shrug someone off and hurt their feelings and then bark back at them about their own emotional state and get mad when that doesn’t fix the problem. Try a real apology next time and maybe you’ll get the response you were looking for.”

With that, she turned her attention back to her work, and gave me the iciest of cold shoulders. I may as well have been invisible for all she cared to acknowledge me. My stomach dropped.

She was right.

As much as I hated to admit it, she was absolutely right.

I took a deep breath and then sprung to my feet (or foot, rather), careful to keep my injured leg from bearing any weight. She jumped, making a fuss the second I stood up, “Woah! What do you think you’re doing? You’re not supposed to put any pressure—“ I was already quite off balance, trying to keep one foot from touching the floor. Even with my arms outstretched, and tensing all the necessary muscles to stay upright, the moment I craned my neck to look directly up at her, and as I opened my mouth and the words ‘I’m sorry’ began to form on my lips, I knew I was a goner. I started to stumble, my arms grasping at air as my good leg gave way beneath me. I braced for impact with the hard surface of the desk. Yet, within the next fraction of a second, I found myself perfectly upright, the wind knocked out of me.

I blinked hard, trying to make sense of what had just happened. In the breadth of a heartbeat, she’d reached for me, catching me from my fall and suspending me upright, with a little gentle pressure. Her thumb was now pressed against my chest, her nail landing just beneath my left arm. Her index finger wrapped around my lumbar curve and gently rested against my bent elbow. As I collided into the barrier she provided with her hand, I found myself gasping for air and instinctively gripping onto her thumb with both hands. She kept me steady as I found my footing, and craned my neck to meet her eyes. She looked down at me in shock and concern, “What was all that for? You scared the shit out of me…”

“I was trying to apologize. Now I think we can both see how much that disagrees with me in practice…” She broke into a brilliant smile and peered down at me, nodding her head in agreement as she shrugged and giggled. I’d be lying if I didn't admit I enjoyed the sound of her laugh. I suddenly felt quite warm, surrounded by her fingertips. I could even feel her heartbeat beneath the surface of her skin.

My heart leapt to my throat, as I felt her eyes continue to gaze down at me. She’d stopped her bemused chuckling, instead staring at me in a way that made me squirm beneath her. Slowly, slowly, she guided her pointer finger beneath my left arm, to keep me upright, and very gently, she passed the pad of her thumb across my chest in a rhythmic back and forth motion. I froze. All her attention was on me, balanced carefully inside the hollow of her hand. What was she doing? Could she feel how hard my heart was hammering against my sternum?

Her eyes flickered in concern, as the motion of her thumb ceased, in the direct center of my sternum, “Your little chest is pounding away like crazy—” Well, that answers that. My face flushed bright red, as she suddenly sunk lower, so that her chin was resting on the crook of her right elbow, and the tip of her nose was a mere few inches from where I stood, propped up between her fingers. She was so close, I could see a silhouette of myself reflected in the iris of her eye. She’d returned to stroking me, I stiffened, barely able to keep my composure as she hit me with her next question, her voice soft, low and intimate, “Is this okay?”

It took every ounce of willpower I had left in me to keep from trembling. She was so close, so warm, I could smell her fragrant hair, feel the heat of her hand, all while I took in those bright, brilliant eyes, awaiting my answer. I was completely overwhelmed, surrounded by her on all sides. I couldn’t breathe. I needed air. I couldn’t breathe. I needed out.

“No! No it’s not!” I finally choked out, “You’re too close. Please, just put me down.”

Her face fell. It wasn’t the answer she’d been hoping for. She blinked once, twice, and then obediently did as she was asked, quietly whispering “Sorry” as she prepared to let me go. Too bad, she has no right to fluster me like that. I told myself that over and over as she gently sat me down in my chair.

We were right back where we started. A tension palpable in the air between us. Even as I got exactly what I asked for, I felt an ache where the heat of gentle fingers had just been. My heart continued to pound away against my breast as I wrestled with the confusing thing that had just taken place.

She didn’t say another word and I followed suit, much too embarrassed and shaken to fill in the gaps between our clicking, swiping and staring at screens with any polite conversation. I sank in my chair. What was happening to me here? All I’d ever wanted was the chance to research this compelling case in harmonious, blessed silence. But now that I had my greatest desire, I suddenly felt hollow inside. It wasn’t possible that my heart had blossomed toward this human beside me.

Wasn’t it?

Just then, as I had paused in my notes, to sneak a glance up at her, I found myself catching her eye, as she appeared to be doing the same thing, in reverse. Blushing hard, I tore my gaze away, staring flatly at the screen before me.

Try as I may to read and reread the lines of black text on white pixels, one thought kept ricocheting through my skull: what did she make of all this? I couldn’t bring myself to ask, so I imagined I’d never know.

I tried to ignore these feelings, leaning into the article I’d found on veterinary law in the state of Massachusetts, even despite my elevated blood pressure. That is, until the sound of her clearing her throat to get my attention became impossible to ignore.

Reluctantly, I turned over my shoulder to face her, admittedly a little anxious to see just what I’d find there. When I turned, I was confronted with her finger and thumb directly before me and pinched between them was a delicate paper flower, a rose crowned with baby’s breath, I’d made for her seemingly forever ago. Then, her voice, soft and strained rang in my ears, “I’m sorry I can’t ever seem to get this right… I’m just a big dumb human that upsets you. I’m sorry for that.”

And that right there was a proper, genuine apology, unlike the half baked defensive excuse I’d thrown at her earlier. Guilt creeped in as I realized what I’d done. Sighing, I made up my mind, and as I leaned over and clutched the fake flower from her grip, I formulated my response, “Will you do me a favor?”

“Of course, anything.” She meant that in earnest.

“Will you pick me up and hold me directly before you?” My past self would have a hard time believing this series of events to be true, and yet, here I was, requesting to be handled by a human. She hesitated for a moment, watching me closely for signs of regret or discomfort, before pinching me between her thumb and forefinger, and placing me inside her waiting palm. She then lifted me up to her face, her eyes confused and cautious, “Closer…” She inched me forward, “Still closer…” her brow furrowed, I was already less than half an inch from the bridge of her nose, “Almost there…” Now she held me so close I was hovering over her face, far too near for her eyes to be able to focus on me anymore. My chest practically brushed against her eyelashes as I reached up and over, planting the flower I’d made for her in the nest of waves and curls that was her hair. With that, I gently patted her on the forehead and whispered, “Okay, all done.”

She pulled her hand back to a reasonable distance again, staring at me with delighted eyes, “Did you just…?”

“Natalie, I owe you an apology. I’m not particularly fond of them, so don’t get used to it…” I sat up a bit straighter with my arms crossed, as she broke into a knowing smile, “But the way I see it… we’re a team now, unlikely and mismatched as that is. And I… I could have done better by my partner and I’m sorry. I was dismissive and I rejected your simple kindnesses. As you can clearly see, those sorts of things don’t come naturally to me, so I can’t promise an entirely different response in the future. But what I can say is I’ll endeavor to see things from your perspective once in a while. And… maybe on a very special occasion, I’ll allow you to touch me gently again…” my throat tightened and color rose in my cheeks again at the mere mention.

By the time I’d finished speaking, she’d broken into a wide grin, “You’re such a little liar! I knew you liked it, that’s why you were all squirmy and red faced. I’m gonna get you to admit you like me… someday, it’s gonna happen. I fluster you, don’t I? Like right now… you’re all kinds of squirmy. Look at you, you can’t even look me in the eye!”

“Natalie! Don’t make me regret this the second I say it! I am not flustered!”

“Suuure you’re not. Of course not, Little Nightmare. No flushed face and heaving chest here! Nope! Totally calm and collected…”

“Natalie!!!”

“You’re too easy to tease! It’s not my fault!”

“I’m never apologizing to you again if this is how you’re going to weaponize my vulnerability against me!”

“Oh woe is Alexander! Look how he’s being so horribly mistreated!” She made a big fuss, rolling her eyes and gesturing with her free hand. I admit it made me smile, for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough for her to pick up on, “I saw that! The little robot does have a sense of humor. How delightful!”

“I despise you and everything you stand for.”

“Yup! So sweet and funny! Just an absolute sweetheart of a little man. Nothing about this is alarming at all. I should definitely not plan on sleeping with one eye open tonight.” She cupped her chin in her free hand, biting her lip as she smiled at me, “But seriously though, thank you, Little Nightmare. I can see you’re trying, and that’s all I can ask for. I promise not to push your boundaries… too much. But I’m sorry if I can be overwhelming at times. Are we okay?”

I sucked in a sharp breath, before nodding, “In spite of my better judgment, I suppose I’ll allow for forgiveness this one time. Don’t get used to it, I’ve got my eye on you, Miss Marquez.” I raised my brows and flashed her an expectant look.

“Alright! The dynamic duo is back!! Wonder Twin powers… Activate!!” She held out a knuckle of her clenched fist, presumably so I would bump her back with my own.

“No. Never. Don’t even try.”

“Eh, it was worth a shot… back to it, then?” She gently caressed my knee with her thumb as she asked. I nodded curtly.

Soon, I found myself lowered back down to the level of her elbow, still close enough to feel the warmth radiating off of her. I did my best to clear my mind and focus on my work, but, I have to admit, any time she shifted in her seat,or hummed (badly) to herself, I couldn’t help but get a bit distracted.

Maybe a life like this wasn’t so bad. Maybe, just for now, I could learn to like this, Wonder Twin Powers and all.

Beautiful art for this chapter by @lucentbliss

#Whew! This was a rollercoaster ride!#Will they? Won't they? Will Alexander cry or scream?#Porque no los dos?#They are both such a mess #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t community #g/t writing #g/t related #g/t angst #size difference #a fraction of justice #g/t fluff #oc:alexander #oc:natalie

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ratcatcher0325 · 2 years ago

Text

A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #28)

Alexander is back and he's ready for.... napping. No, no this chapter is interesting, I swear.

Chapter #28. Alexander wakes up from his nap but has a much harder time getting Nat to come to from hers. How will he solve this problem? You guessed it. Through rage and yelling.

Previous: Chapter #27

Next: Chapter #29

Word Count: 6,603 Read Time: Approx. 51 mins

CW: adult language, angst, allusions to medical abuse

Btw, DM me if you wanna be added to the tag list!

___________________________________

A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #28: Rosemary for Remembrance

[Natalie’s POV]

My heart leapt in my chest as I looked over what I’d carefully crafted. Balanced delicately on the aluminum lid of a mason jar, which served as a tray of sorts, was a tiny place setting, complete with a dish I could balance on my pointer finger, a miniature glass of water with a few drops filling it to the brim, a mug of tea, and teeny tiny little utensils, small enough that I had to press the tip of my finger into them to pick them up. Piled high on the plate was a simple, very finely diced, medley of chicken and peppers over an adorably small bed of quinoa. Simple, yet filling and wonderfully displayed in perfect, proportionate miniature just for him. I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when I revealed it to him. I delicately placed a paper napkin over the top of it all and laid the whole thing in the flat of my hand.

Picking up my own plate, I padded down the hallway, almost giddy like a little kid. I couldn’t deny, it hurt when he’d thrown his little fit about the clothes. I’d been excited for them, how could I have possibly known he expected to dress like freakin Downton Abbey every day? I couldn’t help rolling my eyes as a smile curved my lips, in spite of myself: what a little mess he was. But hey, for all his fussing about clothing, maybe I’d be able to make it up to him with a warm meal. He must’ve been starving at this point.

I paged the door with my side as I slipped into the room, biting my lip to keep from beaming. I’d just opened my mouth to announce that dinner was served when I laid eyes on him.

Instead of finding him fidgeting impatiently in his little desk chair or pouting with his arms crossed on the edge of the bed, face flushed from the horrors of being forced to dress casually, he was fast asleep, splayed out on the right side of his tiny mattress. My heart melted.

I gently laid out two very differently sized place settings down on the surface of the vanity, carefully balancing the mason jar ‘tray’ on his little desktop. With one sweeping motion, I made sure the thin napkin stayed in its place, serving as an extremely low budget cloche.

Once all was settled, I turned my eager attention to the sleepy little life below me. His deep slumbering breaths caused his chest to rise and fall to the rhythm of his slowed heart. I felt a thrilling tingle trace my spine as I noticed what covered that tiny beating breast: crimson letters each no bigger than 8-point font. I’d secretly hoped his keen eyes would spot what I’d purchased especially for him. Smart little thing. If anyone deserves a free ride to Harvard, it’s you.

His right hand lay slack over his abdomen, rising and falling with the air in his lungs. His injured leg was splayed straight out, while his left was bent, tucked beneath his hurt knee. His left hand had fallen limply at his side, just barely balancing on the edge of the mattress. I don’t know why, but the detail of seeing his tiny head, usually all full of blustering anger and intellectual fervor in his waking hours, resting on a tiny pillow, almost overwhelmed me. It delighted me to no end to see him interacting with furniture that fit him. For a moment, if I squinted my eyes, I could imagine my perspective was just an aerial shot in a movie and the little man before me wasn’t tiny at all, but belonged perfectly to a world that matched his proportions. I suppose he’d dreamt of such an impossible fantasy quite often.

Hello there, Alexander. I propped my head on my elbow and took in the mesmerizing sight of the man who could fit in the palm of my hand. Dinner could wait a minute… or thirty.

There was something wonderful about watching him in this moment of total tranquility, it was like a window into a future where he felt safe and satisfied. Poor little man, even without knowledge of all the details, I could tell he’d had a hard and painful life. I could imagine pretty much everyone at his size had. They were so vulnerable, after all. Looking at his bandaged leg, I was reminded that despite all his boisterousness and snapping, he was actually quite a fragile little being. It was easy to forget sometimes. He put so much effort into tricking you into thinking the opposite, after all.

I knew he was utterly wiped. Especially after all the melodrama in the bath. He deserved to sleep peacefully, knowing no one would ever dream of hurting him again. Not on my watch. As long as he’d let me, I’d be more than happy to do everything in my power to give him that peace of mind.

A pang of guilt rushed through me as a biting, critical thought burned through my cortex, searing the edges of my amygdala (did I remember Psych 101 well enough to get that right?). Despite my genuine desire to keep him safe, I’d hand-delivered him to hell on earth, myself. He couldn’t recall the details yet, but I believed him when he said they’d been cruel. I felt the burning sensation cut through my chest. Would I ever be able to make up for what I’d done? Or would he want nothing to do with me the second he could stand on his own two feet? Could I even give him what he needed to be happy if he could stomach the idea of staying with me?

Just then, he twitched in his sleep. It was nothing more than a microscopic little clenching of his fist and twitch of his brow as he pursed his tiny lips, still, I felt my heart skip a beat. Enough agonizing over the future, all I could do right now was relish in this precious moment. He was with me for now, and maybe that was enough. Not only that, but he was safe, comfortable and relaxed. That’s all I wanted for him.

Staring down at his little form, practically sinking into the surface of the mattress, I felt a tingling sensation run the length of my spine. Would this ever get old? I couldn’t imagine it would. The only thing that could possibly make this better is if it was my hand that held his limp little body aloft as I felt him twitch against the surface of my palm. Blood rushed to my cheeks just thinking about what a precious gift it was to get to hold him while he slept. I didn’t think I’d ever forget how that felt, even if I wanted to (not that I ever would). And he’d looked me directly in the eyes and requested it from me! He saw me, at least for that one moment, as a safe place to rest his head. All I wanted was to be deserving of that trust. I was painfully aware I had a long road ahead of me for that.

I shook my head, banishing the guilt again. Present moment, Nat. I reached for my phone and flipped on the camera. If I wanted to stay focused on the gift of this precious instant, I supposed it could last a lot longer if I captured it in a photo.

Making sure the flash and shutter sound were off, I aimed the camera at his little sleeping form, delighted that all of him fit easily in the frame, and took the picture. There, now when you’re pissing me off I can remember that sometimes you’re actually pretty cute. Granted, it’s only when you’re unconscious, but, we’ve gotta start somewhere don’t we? I couldn’t help but smirk. He was such a handful, this angry little spitfire, but he was also the best thing that could’ve happened to me. Who else was gonna drag me kicking and screaming through my last semester, and guilt me into cleaning to boot? Not to mention being the perfect pocket-sized, taste-tester for all my recipes. I knew he meant a thousand times more than all that, but I blushed to even think of those things.

I could stay here and stare at him adoringly for hours and not even feel the time go by, but he deserved to rest as long as he wished without me accidentally waking him. Poor thing, I imagined it’d be kinda terrifying to wake up with someone gigantic just looming directly overhead. I needed to give him his space.

Reluctant to let go, I sighed, settling on the edge of my bed, as close to his little sleeping form as I could get, resting my head at the foot of the mattress, so my gaze lined up directly with where he lay. If he needed anything I’d be close at hand. Sweet dreams, Alexander, I’ll be right here when you wake.

Much more quickly than I expected, I found my eyelids getting impossibly heavy as my breathing lagged and sleep claimed my mind and body. I’d forgotten how little rest I’d had today. It felt good to drift off into oblivion, knowing that tiny life, only an arm’s length away, was safe and sound.

******

My sleep was blissful and dreamless for a while, my body sinking into the surface of the mattress... My mattress. I desperately needed the rest, it was evident by how quickly I’d fallen asleep in the first place. I was warm, safe, and the aching pain in my joints faded with my consciousness. My body craved a moment to recover, that much was clear, and it was a delight to be able to give myself that gift.

But, as my breathing slowed to a deep, dull cascade, and my muscles melted into the fabric, releasing every fiber of tension into the forces of gravity, the ghost of an image began to form in my mind’s eye.

It was hazy at first, like the tendrils of silvery smoke in the split second after a flame has been extinguished, flashing in and out of sight as it dissolves into an inky black void.

I saw something electric blue, hurtling toward me, massive, forceful, frightening. Its surface undulating with strange lines and shadows. I wanted to run, to yell and fight, but I was rooted to the spot, unable to move a muscle. Another appeared, and another and another. As if emerging from the very pitch blackness of my subconscious. They were wrinkled, undulating, living.

My head spun and a bad taste rose in my throat like bile, but stinging, my lips and tongue abuzz with the sensation, as one of those tendrils slammed into my chest, pinning me like some prized butterfly in a case, unable to escape the possessive gaze of all who looked upon me. These blue things were fingers. Fingers attached to a human hand. This was not a fantastical nightmare, but a memory.

Another one, thick, strong, in no way holding back its immense strength against my fragile frame, pressed into the soft flesh of my throat, tipping my head upwards, while others suspended the motion of my wrists and ankles. Truly like a bug on display, all pinioned and poised. In the distance, my ringing ears could make out voices, rumbling with the thunder of a burgeoning storm: one male, one female, like boisterous claps of thunder, terrifyingly loud yet impossible to discern, at least not in this fever dream of a memory. I watched in helpless horror as something cold, and biting slid into my arm. A needle as thick around as my littlest finger, the liquid burning as it entered my veins.

Don’t fall asleep. Just don’t fall asleep. You must fight. You can’t let them win. The wind rushed from my lungs as I was lifted again, head lolling as the drugs began to take hold. No wonder I’d struggled to remember this… I’d been utterly intoxicated! If they wanted a more pliable plaything, they certainly had one now, these monsters. They were faceless, nameless entities of evil who delighted in nothing more than torturing me simply because they had the power to do so. I felt an insatiable urge to cry and scream all at once.

But as I was picked up against my will, in my final moments of lucidity, I’d managed to throw my gaze down far below. Just what had I seen there? I knew it was important by the way I could feel my heart thundering away at the mere thought.

Yet, as I anticipated the most pivotal moment in my waking nightmare, the image was growing hazy, the smoke of this ephemeral ghost-like memory was starting to burn itself out.

No! No, not now! Please not now. I must remember…

I willed the images back from the void of my exhausted brain. Black uniform lines on white, as crisp and pristine as a raven’s feather on new fallen snow, began to materialize. The type font, militant in its precision, seemed to repeat endlessly in an upside down sea of useless text. I’d been well on the way to passing out by this point. It was entirely possible the anesthesia had erased these final moments from my mind.

I refused to accept that as a possibility. Think, Alexander! The rumbling, gruff and ever irritated voice of my sometimes caretaker, sometimes torturer entered my mind, as I recalled the many times he berated me for misquoting a Latin verse of Homer by a single mis-conjugated verb, “Make use of that little engine between your ears… think! It’s the one thing I shouldn’t be forced to do for you!”

I strained to turn the infinite lines of ink, which seemed to be shrinking more and more as I was pulled farther and farther away, into meaning. And that’s when, as if bending to my force of will… I remembered precisely what I’d managed to read in a panic before succumbing to their methods to pacify me.

I shot up, with a cry, body soaked in a cold sweat. All the pain that had faded with sleep now coursed through my spinal cord, lighting up my neurons as I couldn’t help but wince. Light tortured my eyes for a moment, before I was able to take in the world around me. I was still in my bed, still on Natalie’s dresser, and still safe from the nightmare I’d just relived. My chest was heaving as my fists clutched the sheets and I struggled to breathe. Yet, right in front of me, something was quite different.

Instead of the barren, unmade bed with its sea of tossed sheets, a woman, a mess of curls obscuring part of her face, occupied my view, fast asleep and heedless of my tortured dreams and frightened waking. That woman, who’s fingertips had become more familiar with my body than any other set of human hands, lay on the very edge of her bed, her head resting at the foot of the mattress. She’d arranged herself in a rather unorthodox way… Why? Her positioning seemed neither comfortable nor practical. Had she been so exhausted she just passed out like that? I supposed I wasn’t in a position to judge, I’d essentially done the same thing.

I admit, it was a bit of a blow to my pride that even my anguished cry as I woke from a bad dream was too tiny and unremarkable to stir the human before me. She was fast asleep as I looked on, my blood thrumming though my veins and pounding in my head as my breath came in broken hitches. She was the picture of perfect stillness while my body trembled with anticipation. I’d remembered! Finally, I knew, in excruciating detail, what they’d done to me.

I watched her with hawklike precision, her breath heavy like a rolling, lazy tide. I leaned forward, speaking with a sharp whisper, “Hey! Natalie…” the tide rolled in and out, unburdened by me. I felt a tightening in my chest as I tried again, “Natalie! Wake up!” Nothing. Dammit, really?? I cupped my hands and gave a shout across the vast cavern of space that in reality was only maybe three or four feet across, “NATALIE!!” She didn’t even flinch, her breathing deep and unencumbered.

Fired up now, and without a moment’s hesitation, I leaned over the bedside and clutched a scrap of brown packing paper from the floor below. It came as no surprise that it lay precisely where it had fallen: of course, she couldn’t be at all bothered to put anything away in a neat or orderly manner. Her lack of cleanliness now came to my aide, as I ripped off a piece, and crumpled it into a ball only a bit larger than my fist. I took aim and fired. It fell short.

Damn my little frame!

My face flushed hot with anger as I fashioned another projectile and tried again. This one hit its mark, glancing off her forearm, which cradled her head. My celebration was short lived, however, as I watched her twitch slightly and then nestle further into the crook of her arm, mumbling slightly.

Wake up already, you giant indolent fool! I’m at the absolute limit of my patience!

In a flurry of motion, I made several more projectiles and began lobbing them as hard as I could. The first glanced her cheek, the next nestled in her hair, but the third smacked her right between the eyes.

Bullseye!

She woke with a groan and flailing of limbs. This sudden movement would have been frightening had I been within striking range, but seeing as I was at quite a safe distance, her reaction was rather amusing.

“What the fuck?!” She batted at the attack, opening her eyes as she wrinkled her nose, as though it had made her itch. The one paper ball that had tangled in her hair stayed trapped amongst her dark tendrils, even as she began to sit up, “Alexander! What the fuck are you doing??”

I replied with another volley of paper, narrowly missing her eye by perhaps a quarter inch. She gasped, startled, as her spine straightened and she sat upright on the corner of the bed. She was much taller than my line of sight again, her head high enough that I had to crane my neck to look at her, but, I supposed, that was the norm. Her forearms flew up to protect her face, as I threw what ammunition I had left, she cried out in a frustrated protest “Stop it! Stop! You have a shockingly strong throw for someone your size. You’re gonna stab me in the eye with one of those!” I refused, taking out all my anger about the vet, about being too little for her to even hear, and for not being there when I needed her, as I prepared to throw my final round. I twisted over my shoulder wrenching my wrist far back behind, prepping my elbow for a strong follow-through, as her hands were raised in frantic protest.

************

“Alexander! Stop that! I’m up now!” What the hell, little man?? I thought we’d made good progress, yet here he was hurling things at me in a tiny fit of rage!

He wrenched back to throw it, muscles twitching, “Alexander!! Don’t you dare! Do not throw that at me!” We were both still as statues, frozen in time, staring each other down, “…I mean it! What’s gotten into you?? Put it down.”

He didn’t budge.

“Seriously, you little bastard, what the fuck happened to you between the time I left and came back? You were sleeping so soundly when I came in. You were goddamn adorable and I thought ‘Awww, he’s actually pretty sweet’… and then it’s like you went all Mr. Hyde on me on a dime… Ah! I see your arm twitching. Don’t! Don’t do it! Why are you so mad? What happened to that pretty little smile, huh?”

That was very much the wrong thing to say apparently, because a ball of packing paper collided directly with my cornea less than half a second later. Ouch. But also? Good aim.

I sucked in a deep breath to calm myself before gingerly pushing off of the corner of the bed and kneeling in the carpet, closing the gap between the angry little man and I by about half the distance, while also getting us closer to eye level, “Okay…. I don’t understand what just happened, but clearly we’re not communicating in the best way possible and you seem upset. I’m sorry for that. What can I do, Alexander? How can I fix this? It may surprise you, because of how often it happens, but I’m really not trying to piss you off, I swear.”

He avoided my eyes, as I blinked mine rapidly, tears falling down my cheek as my eye recovered from the blow. He sat there with his arms crossed over his chest, “Hey, please tell me what’s going on in your head. I obviously did something wrong to get the surface of my eye scratched. I’m sorry if I offended you. Are you mad because I fell asleep? Did you need me and I wasn’t there? I’m so, so sorry. God, and all this time I still haven’t given you your pain meds. I’m sorry, Alexander, you must be miserable and I’m fucking it all up. I’m still kinda getting used to this whole ‘learning to be responsible for another life’ thing…”

As I stumbled over my words, I noticed his shoulders soften, as his stiffened spine relaxed a little, and he let out a sigh before finally tipping his chin to meet my eyes. That crystalline blue gaze, usually sharp enough to cut like a knife, was just a tiny fraction softer, more forgiving, “I am in a dizzying amount of pain, I’m starving, and as you could see from my recent unconsciousness, I am desperate for sleep. Perhaps, because of these contributing factors, I was responding a bit more strongly than I should have.” Wow. That was the closest to a kind of apology that I’d ever gotten from him! Well, besides those little flowers. He continued, “But I…. I wanted to… I was hoping that… Natalie, I remembered what they did to me.”

It felt like a bomb went off in the foot and a half space between us. Just like that, my heart was in my throat. I could feel the throb of my agitated pulse in my neck, pounding in nervous waves. What had they done? I was terrified, but I had to know, “Oh my god! Alexander! That’s… that’s huge! Why didn’t you tell me sooner??” The dead pan stare I received was all the reminder I needed, “Oh… right… well, I’m ready to listen, now, I promise. But do you want food and medication first? What do you need most right now?”

*******

She gingerly placed her right hand on the surface of the dresser, a pointer finger absentmindedly floating up to caress the top of my left foot and ankle, which dangled off the side of the bed. This was as close as she’d dared to get and I felt myself instinctually jump when her skin pressed into mine. Normally, I would have pulled away, frustrated by the contact, but just now, I got the sense that she needed to touch me, almost as a way to soothe herself. She clearly felt badly for having fallen asleep and for upsetting me. I could see she was really trying to apologize and do better. That counted for something. Maybe this human was capable of improving.

“Yes, something to eat and some pain relief would be very welcome right now. Thank you, Natalie.” As I spoke, I caught her eyes. Her lips pressed together into a line as her brow furrowed compassionately, and she nodded.

“I bet the food is pretty cold now. Give me a second to heat it up and prep your meds, okay?” She very softly patted my ankle as she pulled her hand away and stood. It was my turn to nod, as she reached across the dresser for something covered by a paper napkin sitting on my desk. I hadn’t even noticed it was there before.

I didn’t like being left alone right then. The second she disappeared behind the door, images of my torture came flooding in. I saw blood, scalpels, fingers, so many prodding fingers, my nerves ablaze with pain, their grotesque faces twisted into saccharine smiles as they teased me. It sent a shiver down my spine.

I laid back, resting my head on the pillow, trying to keep my heartbeat steady and my mind clear. I wish I’d asked her to take me with her. The discomfort of being held and carried paled in comparison to the anxiety that was assaulting my senses now.

My forehead became damp with a cold sweat, blood thundering in my ears, as I clutched crimson letters and fabric in a fist, applying pressure to my fluttering chest, as my stomach churned. I couldn’t help this psychophysical response to the painful memories that were battering my brain. It was as though I was reliving it, despite being safe from harm. It was embarrassing, to say the least, not having control over my own nervous system.

Air was suddenly difficult to come by, as my chest heaved and found no real relief. I kept seeing those indistinct blue devices of torture, squeezing my face, yanking my hurt leg, pinching my bruised ribs. These very small parts of the human body that each were enough to subdue me. I trembled, face growing redder as air continued to evade me.

Just then she returned, saying something about the meal. I wasn’t exactly listening. But the moment she saw me, half collapsed on the bed, clutching my chest, she put down what she was carrying and rushed to my side.

*******

“Woah, what’s wrong? Hey, hey, Alexander? You having a hard time catching your breath? Okay, I think you’re having a panic attack. That’s okay, we can get through it. These things are a pain in the ass but you’re way too chaotic yourself to be bested by one of these fuckers…” I spoke softly, and couldn’t help but notice the corner of his mouth turning upwards into a hint of that crooked smile, “Can you sit up? Okay good. Is it okay if I get nearer? Can I touch you?” His brow furrowed as he winced from pain while sitting upright, but he still managed to nod in the affirmative and flash his eyes up at me. Those pretty blue eyes. Even in a crisis they managed to burn an impressive shade. As he adjusted himself, I laid my right palm beside him, my pointer and middle finger very gently stroking his back, while my thumb smoothed his hair away from his eyes, before resting in his lap. He propped his left hand on the knuckle and squeezed, blinking rapidly. He needed help regaining control, “Hey, look at me, let’s try to breathe nice and slowly in and out. Follow my lead, okay?” He did so, still gripping onto my thumb as tightly as he could, “I’m so sorry they hurt you. They will pay for what they’ve done. I know you’ll make that happen. But they’re not here and they can’t get to you right now. It’s just you and me. And I don’t ever want to hurt you. I may annoy the ever living hell out of you, but I’d never want to harm you.” He shook his head slightly as he hugged my thumb against his chest. He was finally getting air into his lungs and I could feel his little hummingbird heart slow to a more manageable rhythm. I ran my pointer finger along the length of his spine, delighted he was allowing me to physically comfort him at all.

“That was… I… I apologize for, whatever that was. It was highly illogical to respond that way—“

“—Uh-uh. Nope. We’re not doing that. No beating yourself up today. You ever heard of complex PTSD? You had a traumatizing experience. Your body and brain needs to process that. There will be no self-shaming here today. Thank you. Maybe try tomorrow.” I started to pull my fingers away to fetch the newly warmed food from his tray, but a pair of tiny, lithe hands pulling on the tip of my thumb stopped me in my tracks.

“Thank you… I…” He looked up at me in a manner I’d only ever seen once before, when he was truly vulnerable and scared, clinging to my pinky finger in the waiting room of the clinic. He sucked in a breath as if he was about to say something and then thought better of it. He cast his gaze down to the hoodie, and as he pinched the fabric between his little finger and thumb, he chose these words instead, “This was a thoughtful purchase.” He didn’t look back up at me. Poor Alexander, it seemed he’d hit his limit of being vulnerable today. But I’d take what I could get.

When I placed the tray of perfectly proportional dinnerware before him, I couldn’t help but notice a flush of pink to his cheeks, as he looked on, immediately clutching the knife and fork that didn’t, for once in his life, tower over him.

*********

I couldn’t help from swallowing hard upon seeing what she sat down on the bed beside me. A fork, knife, spoon, a dinner plate, a cup for water, a mug with steam curling into the cooler air, all perfectly sized for my hands. I felt a wave of emotion creep up and threaten to spill over, but I managed to keep myself grounded by inspecting the individual tines on the fork. It looked just like its human counterpart. How marvelous!

Her eyes were poring over me, delighted by my life carrying on in miniature before her. How stereotypically human of her. I was about to request that she not loom so hard, when I stopped short. What if this wasn’t about a human cooing over someone little? What if it was more like the delight of a person who’s given a gift relishing in the joy of the receiver? Being the recipient of gifts was not something I was really at all familiar with. Yet, an instinct told me she wasn’t trying to insult me, in this instance. I’d choose to give her the benefit of the doubt.

I seemed to be in a giving vein today, or maybe that was just aftershock from her having to see me shaking like a pathetic wet puppy. It was not my intention to ever let her see me like that again.

However, my body could no longer withstand abuse and the sharp pang of hunger that ripped through me reminded me of the task at hand.

Evidently, we were both quite hungry, because we ate in relative silence. She paused once to point at the steaming mug, with the butt of her knife, to say, “I mixed your medication with herbal tea. It might taste awful, though, just FYI. I put a drop of honey in, hoping that would help, but let me know how I can make it better.” I don’t know why, but that simple act of thoughtfulness touched me. It showed how she’d considered, beforehand, what my experience might be like and tried to fix it. She was stupid, she was loud, she was infuriating and sometimes altogether overwhelming, but there was no denying she had a kind heart.

The flush of color to my cheeks told me it was time to quickly switch to another train of thought. I considered the objects in my hands, once again, to calm me down. I’d never actually gotten to use a knife and fork before, but it was important that I do my best to mask my ignorance. After all, I’d spent countless hours of my meager existence watching humans chow down right in front of me while I waited for scraps. I was more than capable of learning through observation. However, it was an entirely new experience to have the actual sensation of wielding them myself, by delicately slicing a mouthful of food before piercing it with the fork (tines always turned down of course, I may have been born in America, but I’d be damned if I conducted myself like one at the table… Natalie seemed to have no such druthers as she used her fork more like a shovel than anything else. I tried not to watch).

When the meal was done, which, it must be noted, was flavorful and extremely satisfying, I plucked up the mug and imitated what I’d always seen humans do: I wrapped my hand inside the handle, cupping it tightly with both hands to savor its warmth. To human ears, I knew this would sound ridiculous, but I had not anticipated the sheer thrill of being able to just effortlessly pick objects up. I wondered if lifting this mug up from its surface with such little muscular effort was akin to how she felt lifting me into the air. It was so easy. If I wanted a drink, I could pluck the glass of water from where it sat with one hand and lift it with hardly any effort. No strain, no overwhelmingly large utensils and portions. No constant reminders of my littleness to fluster and embarrass me. For the first time in my life, I found total ease, grace, and peace in an activity that had, historically, haunted me. This ‘breaking of bread’ was something humans actually seemed to enjoy, whereas I had always grimaced and done what was necessary to sustain life as quickly as possible, hopefully avoiding too much ogling from the giant pairs of eyes around me.

Now I found myself clutching a white, ceramic mug, propped up against the headboard of my bed. With a low perspective and a squint of the eyes, I was indistinguishable from a man indulging in a nice cup of tea after a long nine to five shift. Why did that simple idea make my heart beat faster? For the first time in my life, there were things around me that accommodated me.

“Have you tasted it yet? How bad is it?” Natalie’s voice, always just a notch or two too loud, even though I was fairly certain she put effort into lowering it for me, tore me from my thoughts as I gazed up at her and shook my head, raising the mug to my lips.

Dear god. It tasted awful. I struggled not to spit it back in the cup.

“That bad, huh?” She winced, brows furrowing as she propped her head in her hands, and looked down at me. I shook my head with a grimace, flashing her a thumb’s up as if to say ‘no no, it’s great’. She laughed hard enough that she snorted, which made her laugh even harder. I rolled my eyes at how worked up she became and downed the rest of the concoction in one go, trembling from disgust as the taste medicine coated my taste buds.

“Woah! Glutton for punishment, are we? You’re braver than me, I’m such a weenie when it comes to taking meds.” She raised her brows, as I put the mug down. I shrugged, gingerly wiping the corners of my mouth. As I looked back up, I saw she was holding the glass of water, looking absolutely tiny pinched between her finger and thumb, before me. I softened a bit more. She was being awfully kind. Did I actually feel a bit guilty for getting so worked up at her earlier? I took the water from her and nodded in thanks. What was this strange feeling seeming to generate from the pit of my stomach and rise to my heart? Maybe the medicine was kicking in?

***************

He drank like a horse. Well… If a horse could be satiated with nothing more than a few drops of water. He drained the glass quickly, clearly desperate to wash down the bad taste. I hope it’d at least ease his pain. I felt so badly that I hadn’t taken good care of him. He’d been languishing in pain just after a major surgery and that was entirely my fault. Everything had been so chaotic in the last few hours it’d been hard to keep track of time. With a wince, he leaned over his right side and set the tiny glass down, which was clutched in his left. That seemed funny to me, why wouldn’t he just pass it off with his right? Was he left handed? I smirked, overcome with how adorable that was. In any case, I had to actively restrain myself from offering to pluck it from his tiny grasp and put it down for him, so he didn’t push himself too much.

“Natalie??” He waved his hand dramatically to grab my attention. I shook my head and cast my eyes to my lap (I’d pulled my desk chair up to the vanity to eat). Face flushed hot, I felt guilty for staring… again.

“S-sorry… Okay, so, you’ve been happily fed and medicated… You have my full attention Alexander, tell me what happened to you back there.”

He raised his brows expectantly, waiting for… Well, I didn’t know what. He crossed his arms, disapprovingly, when I didn’t get it. For someone so little, he could be so condescending sometimes!

I was totally confused, “W-what?”

“You should get something to take notes. What’re they teaching you in that law school anyhow??” He smiled for just a moment at his own joke, but it was enough to melt my heart.

Little Nightmare, I’ll be the butt of all your jokes as long as I get to see you happy.

I spun the chair and fished for a notebook and pen from beneath my pile of student trash and returned to his side. I clicked the pen and waited eagerly.

He pushed himself up against the headboard, resting his right hand in his lap, his left gripping the sheets, before peering up at me, those two brilliant irises hardened and haunted by a memory. The air suddenly felt heavy. I could feel the nervous pounding of my heart inside my chest.

When he spoke, it was with a definitive conviction that was impossible to dismiss, “I have substantial evidence that they’re in violation of federal law, Natalie. We have a case. An open and shut one, at that, from my perspective. They violated federal malpractice statutes 73A and B from the American Animal Hospital Association. There was an investigation less than a year ago, they were court ordered to make that information publicly available and clearly refused!” He looked up at me wide eyed and passionate. He may as well have spoken a foreign language for all I understood.

“R-right.” I clicked my pen, looking askance and trying to pretend I was following what that even meant. But of course, nothing got past his shrewd little gaze and he caught on immediately.

“You don’t even know what those statues are, do you?” Way to call me out! My face flushed. His eyes bored into mine, waiting impatiently for a confirmation of what he already knew to be true. I bit my lip and shrugged as his shoulders slumped and he sighed, rather dramatically, while pinching the bridge of his nose, “I hope you have plenty of paper in that notebook, because it looks like we’ll have to start from the very beginning.”

I felt embarrassed that I didn’t already know what he was going on about, but I looked forward to learning from the most brilliant, tiny mind in the world. I just hoped he had the patience to educate me, “Okay, Alexander. Teach me. Tell me everything that happened to you.”

I watched those brilliant little eyes light up at the invitation to share. Of course he was excited, someone was willing to listen to what he had to say! I may not know everything you want me to right away, but I hope you know I’m on your side, Alexander.

With a another click of my pen and a nod from me, he stood a little straighter. He licked his lips, swept his bangs from his eyes, sucked fresh air into his lungs and… began.

My only hope, as I pricked my ears to listen to his story, was that I could be all he needed me to be in order to fight back. After everything I was sure I was about to discover he’d gone through, this brilliant, relentless, little fighter before me deserved to win. I knew I’d do everything in my power to help make that happen and so, I prepared to write down his every word, feeling both eager and terrified to discover just what sort of living hell unfolded from behind that swinging metal door.

#Alexander is a great alarm clock #And he might have a future in baseball?#How long do you think it took her to plate that?#giant/tiny #g/t #g/t community #g/t writing #g/t related #size difference #g/t angst #g/t fluff #a fraction of justice #oc:alexander #oc:natalie

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