Fic: Spin Recovery, Part Eight (PG)

[jeriendhal]

He was back in the underground atrium, just turning around the corner on his way back to the parking garage near the transit nexus, when he heard a loud curse and the sound of someone falling to the floor. Coming round he saw the dark furred vixen with the broken leg that had accosted him on his previous visit to the clinic, lying facedown on the floor, her crutches underneath her and breathing hard, as if she was in severe pain.

“Let me help you,” Rufus said, approaching her, then backed off suddenly as she grabbed one her crutches, pulling it out from under her and swinging it in the general direction of his ankles.

“Back off,” she growled, “I can get up.” She rolled over onto her back and sucked in a sharp breath, wincing in pain as she swung her broken leg over her body.

“Do you want me to get you a medical technician?” he asked.

“No, I’m fine.” She began shoving herself backward with her hands until she succeeded in pushing herself to a sitting position, leaning against the corridor wall. With her good leg she hooked one of her crutches with her toes, pulling it back within arm’s length.

“For fruit’s sake, you’re in pain. Let me help you up.” He stepped forward to give her a hand, but was forced back as the rubber tip of her crutch swung within an inch of his snout.

“I said back off! I can do this myself!” Grinding her teeth against the pain of the fall, she pushed backward again, using the wall for support until she could get her good leg underneath her and swung unsteadily to a standing position again. Then she rolled her eyes in frustration as she realized that her other crutch was still on the ground, out of her reach. She gave Rufus an annoyed look and asked, “Are you still here?”

He looked her over before giving an answer. She was dressed in as a casual commoner, in a split skirt and a matching pullover top with a wide scoop that permitted a pleasant view of her cleavage. Over that she wore a more conservative grey cardigan, now a bit stained from rolling about on the floor. Her only jewelry was a bright amulet consisting of a golden triangle framed by a silver circle, held on a then silver chain. Clamped between the metals were several short, dark hairs. A Mother’s Amulet Rufus realized. The hairs were traditionally clipped from the tail of the wearer’s mother, usually in remembrance of their passing and treated so they would not wear or fade in color even if worn for decades.

“I just wanted to make sure you were all right,” he answered. Without waiting for permission he scooped up her lost crutch and handed it back to her. She took it with a grudging nod and slipped it under her shoulder, looking steadier now that she had three legs of support.

“Thank you,” she finally said, then bit down hard on her lip, eyes narrowing in pain as the toes of her broken leg brushed the ground.

“Are you absolutely certain that you don’t want me to call for a medtech? They could probably give you something for the pain.”

“No!” she snarled, ears flicking back. Then she took a deep breath and calmed down again. “I’m fine, I don’t need anything.”

“As you wish.” He fell in step beside her as she began hobbling down the corridor towards the transit nexus, which led to the parking garage and the underground light rail system the connected the five sectors of the town.

“Why are you following me?” she demanded.

“I’m not following you, I’m walking beside you,” he replied. He supposed he should have let her go on her way, but she was treading slowly, as if she was still in severe distress but loath to admit it. It wouldn’t have seemed right, especially given the late afternoon hour when there were few people in the corridors, most having already gone home for dinner. Besides, he reasoned, if she lived close enough to go to the clinic that meant she was one House Brushtail’s subjects, which meant her wellbeing was Rufus’ responsibility anyway.

“Well stop it,” she said. “I’m just going to catch the train for home.”

“Where do you live?” he asked.

She shot him an annoyed look, then relented. “Northeast sector,” she admitted.

“Northeast sector? You’re going to have change trains and then probably catch an autocab home. That’s a bit much given the fall you just took.”

“I’m fine now. Anyway, that’s my business and none of yours.”

He ignored the rather pointed hint. “Tell you what, I’ve got my own skimmer. What do you say to letting me give you a ride home?”

“I’d say you’re bloody busybody and I don’t even know your name anyway.”

“That’s easily fixed. I’m Ru Ofanius. My friends call me Rufus.”

“Haz Elin,” she replied. “Hazel if you must.”

“Thank you. Would you like a ride home, Hazel?”

She gave him a gimlet eye. “If I said no, would you end up following me onto the damned train?”

“Possibly,” he allowed.

They came to a T junction, the corridors for the light rail and the parking garage splitting in opposite directions. Hazel gave Rufus another annoyed look, then turned towards the parking garage.

“There, that wasn’t so hard. Whitebrow will drive us to your home.” As soon as he said that he realized he’d made a tactical error.

She looked at him with suspicion now as she stumped along, sparing a glance at his empty right sleeve. “You’ve got your own driver?”

“Well you can’t expect me to drive like this, do you?”

“Why can’t you just program the autodrive?”

“Because…” Because what? A half dozen easy lies flashed before him. The auto-drive is malfunctioning. Whitebrow and I are going somewhere together later. I prefer hands on piloting…

Suddenly he felt sick to his stomach. No more lies, damnitall.

“Because if Whitebrow drives me to the clinic, my mother will know I really went there,” he said simply, feeling his face flush.

Hazel paused, looking at him more carefully this time. Not just at his arm but at his whole, well-worn frame. “Something going on with you besides the arm?”

“Yes.” This time his answer came out firmly, if flat, discouraging further discussion. It seemed to satisfy her though. She turned away from him and continued down the corridor to the parking garage, pausing once as a wave of pain overwhelmed her for a moment, making her sway on her crutches. But she grimaced and continued on, until they reached the garage and Rufus waved for Whitebrow to bring the skimmer to the curb.

“We’re taking this lady home, Whitebrow,” Rufus told him.

“Very good… Mr. Shorttail,” Whitebrow replied, realizing Rufus’ desire to keep his anonymity intact. He opened the door with a smooth bow, allowing Hazel to shift herself awkwardly into the back seat. Fortunately he didn’t offer to help her further, so Rufus was spared defending his manservant from a crutch aimed at his snout. When she was settled, Rufus got in back on the other side and listened as Hazel rattled off directions to her family’s home.

“I’m staying at 2541 Road Nine, Northeast sector,” she told him.

“Very good, ma’am,” Whitebrow said, engaging the skimmer’s drive and slipping out of the garage and onto the main thoroughfare out of town. Sometime during his appointment the rain had finally stopped, allowing the sun to peek through the clouds make the puddles on the ground gleam in the late afternoon light.

“Living at a friend’s home?” Rufus asked.

She shrugged. “My father’s place. I had an apartment, but after…” Hazel frowned and shut up.

“Well, I can imagine with your leg in the shape it’s in, it’s only natural you’d want to be with your family,” Rufus said, trying to fill the conversational gap. “That’s one of the reasons I moved back in with my mother and sister.”

She didn’t take the bait, instead turning away from him to stare out the windows, as they drove out of town, passing neatly plowed fields of the great farms that were House Brushtail’s main source of rents, then outward into the unworked, forested areas, left fallow for over five hundred years as the diminished Vulpine population worked what land they were able and left the rest alone. They then turned off onto an unfinished rural track that wound its way up a forested hill.

“You would have had a long ride in the cab. The nearest rail station is over five kilometers from here,” Rufus noted.

“My father was going to pick me up,” she said, frowning. “Den Mother Bless, I should have called him.”

They pulled up to a modest, circular tower home, three stories high, constructed with rough stones put together with mortar and careful fitting and surrounded by empty garden beds. It had a commanding view of the slopes below and between the trees Rufus could just see the modest buildings of Grassy Bank visible in the distance. Further up the slope he could see a small wind farm, consisting of perhaps three props mounted on slim towers, which provided power for the house and likely others nearby. This place must be out of the way, if they’re off the main power grid, he thought.

A male in his fifties came out the door, Hazel’s father judging from the worry on his face. “Hazel, luv, where have you been?” he called.

“Sorry, I forgot to call, Da,” Hazel said, pulling herself out of the skimmer after Whitebrow had opened the door. “Got a ride from the fellow who’s short an arm.”

“Oh, thank you, young man,” her father said, extending his hand to Rufus when he emerged from the skimmer, then pulling it back offering the other awkwardly when he realized it was Rufus’ right arm that was missing.

“She took a fall and it didn’t seem right to let her ride the train all the out here,” he explained, taking hold of her father’s hand and shaking it. “I’m Rufus, by the way.”

“Artie Swiftfoot,” her father replied, before turning to his daughter. “Took a fall? I told you I need to go with you!”

“I’m fine, Da!” she snapped, then took a breath. “Just the run a hot bath for me if you could, so I can take a soak?”

“Of course, luv.” Artie turned to Rufus once again before leaving heading into the house. “Thank you for seeing my daughter home.”

“My pleasure, sir.”

“He’s such a worrywart,” Hazel said with more fondness than annoyance, watching her father go.

“Well, I should get back before my mother starts worrying herself,” Rufus said, smiling. “A pleasure meeting you, Hazel. I wouldn’t say I look forward to seeing you at the clinic again, exactly….”

Something dark passed over her face. “Oh, you probably will, for quite a long time. Thanks for the ride, Rufus.” She turned away and began hobbling up the path.

“My pleasure,” he repeated, then got back into the skimmer.

As they headed back down the mountain, Whitebrow said, “I don’t believe we are going to return in time for dinner, milord. I hope your lady mother won’t be displeased.”

Feeling better than he had for several days, Rufus said, “I’ll just tell her that I was helping one of the House’s subjects. She can hardly argue with that.” Odd, how good it had made him feel, even if the actual effort on his part had been minimal.

“Very good, sir,” Whitebrow replied, and drove on.

TBC

Comments

[lilfluff.livejournal.com]

Well, this part certainly left me with a smile on my face. Still there even as I write this comment. I do believe this is one of my favorite parts so far.

[jeriendhal.livejournal.com]

Thank you. I loved letting him a be a bit gallant. Even I was getting tired of Angst-Ru. :)

[chewipaka.livejournal.com]

EMO-RU!

With a single tear trailing down his face...

[jeriendhal.livejournal.com]

Dressed in black, listening to Morrissey on his v-Pod.