Chapter Twenty-Eight: And I Still Haven't Found (What I'm Lookin' For)

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Okay, so first things first I need to stay calm, because I'm not going to be able to be of any real assistance if I'm freaking out and that means that she's be freaking out and we'd both be freaking the fuck out... I've gotta get out of this bed, I'm not going to let my life be a bathtub story, not after I've come this far-

I force myself up, up and out and onto shaking paws that aren't a fan of me right now and I'm holding onto the side rail of my bed for balance with one paw- damn it I'm not gonna be able to reach her bed from here if I'm still hanging on to the bed rail- see, this is why I hate hospitals, my mind goes all fuzzy and then I start doubting myself... and I start feeling older and older and I should not be feeling old at all, I'm just a pup, really, only nineteen...

Let go of the bed, Electra...

-and I do, making my way across the floor to Robin's bed as best as I can, hoping, praying even (okay Snagglepuss) that I don't fall...

-and as such it feels like a minor miracle that I don't end up faceplanting, and Chekhov's scissors are sitting on her side table. Someone's trying to help us, and I have no idea who the heck it could possibly be but I'll take what I can get...

"We're gonna have to get out of here together Robin," I hear myself whispering- somehow I caught myself off guard, my mouth running away from my brain or something like that, I don't know... I don't know a lot of things, but I do know that the longer we stay here, the greater the chances are of someone else getting hurt, and I don't want to have that weighing on my conscience any more.

"Electra, where are you?" Robin asks, head swivelling around, trying to find me, arms reaching out and- there we go, she's found me.

"Right here, Robin, can I cut that fur for you?" I ask, feeling like I know that she'll say yes but not daring to do anything. Consent, you need consent or something's gonna go wrong.

"Yeah, go ahead," she says and I get to work snipping away the strands and clumps and mats of fur that've covered her face, and when it's finally done...

Aw shit she's crying... are those happy tears...? Please let them be happy tears I can't emotionally afford to comfort her any more... I'm taxed and tired enough on my own... only nineteen- and yeah, I think I'm nineteen now, but whatever, it's official for me- but my mind is older... please let them be happy tears...

"Oh... oh... oh holy shit I'm not blind... I can see? I can still see, am I okay I'm okay it's okay we're okay okay, okay...."

The Murget case, a dismissal? Good work, counsellor-

God damn it brain stop it I know that I like musicals but most of them are already in there Rent-free... and now's not the time, seriously?

"Yeah, you're gonna be okay, Robin... seriously, we're gonna be okay...," I whisper to the lynx now staring at me... okay this is getting a little creepy why is she still looking at me and why is she looking at me like that?

"You look just like your father," she says, and there's a shock of electric cold air running down my spine... and that instinctive hackle poof in defence.

"Luke Wilde? He's not my father and no I fucking don't!" I spit, any thought of that man chilling me, even now that he's dead and gone, I still feel like he's there to do me wrong... god, the memories, shit, I didn't need to remember him beating me, mistreating me this morning- I think it's morning but whatever- I didn't need that, nope nope nope nope nope!

"No, I know about that fucking scumbucket and I'm really fucking glad to hear he kicked it, but I mean your actual dad, you look just like him..."

"How do you know that?" I ask, not quite sure what to feel.... I mean, it's true, I do, but how the hell would she know that? I barely know her and yet I feel like she knows me pretty freaking well- or at least she knows my family? "How- who are you?"

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