bakerstreet | Stray

Stray

S T R A Y

Taking in strays is, all in all, an understandable vice. The dips in between their ribs, those large and forlorn eyes, they can help you forget the claws and the teeth and the danger lurking beneath fur. But the habit's a knife edge; your efforts may not be rewarded with kindness (animal instincts aren't discretionary) and you may get bit despite what you've overlooked. A stray doesn't care about pity. All it can know is survival.

These warnings apply to strays of the more human(oid) sort, too.

But what may even more perilous with this type than any drawn blood is what you can get when they grow to trust you. You can earn their undying loyalty...or their love. Either from such a wild thing is a precarious path to go down, if you allow yourself to do it.

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ғɪɴᴅɪɴɢ — Who's that? They're no ordinary passersby! Were they in an accident? Are they foreign? ...should you approach them?

ʀᴀɪɴ, ʀᴀɪɴ, ɢᴏ ᴀᴡᴀʏ — The elements make this night no time to sleep out of doors.

ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ — Cuts, broken bones, injuries all of sorts...you have to stitch them back up, then make sure they don't get any

ɢᴏᴏᴅ ɢᴜᴇsᴛ — It's all you can do to show gratitude to the person who took you in. Fix them a meal, care for their house, whatever you can do once you're able.

ʙᴀᴅ ɢᴜᴇsᴛ — FUCK THIS PERSON AND FUCK THEIR COUCH. You didn't ask to be brought here. Let them clean up after you, you don't even care.

ᴡʜᴏ ᴀᴍ ɪ? — How you got into this situation is a mystery. Even more of a mystery is your identity, and why the person you were would be so displaced.

sᴇʟғʟᴇssɴᴇss —

ʟᴇᴀʀɴɪɴɢ — If you've been injured badly enough or can't remember all too well, you might have to relearn a good deal. Luckily, you have a helping hand.

sᴄᴀʀs — Scars from the encounter that lead you here or scars from prior, you don't want them to see either. You still have your secrets to keep.

sᴛᴜʙʙᴏʀɴ — Ugh, your house guest is so stubborn! They always get up when they should be resting, have the worst habits, and completely disrespect your home! You'll get to them, one way or another. Or you'll throw them out. You don't want to, but you will.

ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ — Bad memories or nightmares wreck you; your host and nurse comes to your side unexpectedly.

ᴄᴜʟᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄʟᴀsʜ — The person who's taken you in is from a different culture or lifestyle than you, and adapting is harder than you thought.

ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ — Think learning about a new culture is hard? Try being a different species. Can you keep your little eccentricities at bay for the good of your station?

ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜsʏ — Now that your emotions towards your caretaker/host/jailer are softening, you're finding yourself unusually jealous of those in their life who were close to them before.

ɴᴇᴡ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴠɪᴛɪᴇs — You never thought you'd have fun after all that's happened, yet such simple gestures as a picnic or a movie make all the difference.

ʀᴇᴀʟɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ — You love them, this person who's taken you in or this person you've found. It's not a pity or a thankfulness, it's love, and you know that now. What you choose to do with this information is

ʜɪsᴛᴏʀʏ — Suddenly, the person who's been so nice to you finds out that the two of you have a history. You killed their loved ones or caused something terrible. How can they forgive you?

ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ — So much has been done for you. The least you can do in return for the one who helped you at your lowest is make sure they never have such a low point.

ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ᴋɴᴏᴄᴋɪɴɢ — Anyone in the way of getting to you will be destroyed, and that includes the person you're staying with.

ʟɪᴠᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇᴍ — You've been given a home, maybe which you've never had before. You don't want to leave.

ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ — Not only are you living with them, but you're starting a proper life with them.

ʀᴇᴠᴇᴀʟ — All secrets are laid out on the table. You've decided to tell about your past and what lead you here.

ʀᴇᴠᴜʟsɪᴏɴ — What you've done and who you are is so heinous, they want nothing more to do. You're to leave their home and leave them alone.

ᴀᴄᴄᴇᴘᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ — It doesn't matter what they've done. You've opened your home and your heart to them, and nothing's changed.

ᴘᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ — All things must come to an end. No matter what you feel for each other, it's time to leave. Hopefully, you'll see each other again.

ʜᴀᴘᴘɪʟʏ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ — Come what may, you've decided to stay at your new home with the person you love. Now, it's safe enough to do so.

ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ

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"Not everyone gets treated like shit for it, though."

If it was just kids, he might have grown to tolerate it in time, but those who raised him also reacted with revulsion to Sakura's appearance.

"How far to the clinic?"

"Not everyone," he agrees. "But more than you think."

Logan looks the kid over, assessing the flight risk next to him.

"A two minute walk. Since you felt just fine taking on a group of grown men I assume that won't be a problem for you."

"No, of course not. Why would it be a problem." Ah, yes, the appeal to pride. A surefire way to get someone like Sakura to prove he can do the thing.

Well that was easier than expected.

"How often do you get into fights then?"

"A couple times a week, maybe?" Some weeks worse than others. Some fights worse than others. "It's what I'm good for."

"What you're good for?" Logan gives him a disapproving look. "That's how you describe tools, not people."

Moving on... "How often do you get checked out after these fights?"

Sakura almost looks like he has a rebuttal to that tool comment, but the next question makes his frown grow deeper.

"Never. I always take care of it by myself, best I can."

Logan should just keep the look of disapproval fixed to his face.

"If you're going to get into fights, you need to get checked over by a professional every so often. Repeated injuries will do long term damage. You can lose feeling in your hands, or end up with breathing problems."

It isn't that that's news to Sakura, but the idea that someone would give enough of a fuck to look him over like that is almost laughable. He lets out a bitter little scoff.

"I've been fine so far."

He's been lucky, so far. But he doesn't have the capacity to imagine any greater life for himself. Today: fights. Tomorrow: fights. The future: fights. What else is there for him to live for?

"Luck runs out. All it takes is one mistake, one accident, and you'll never fight again."

They've reached the clinic, but Logan pauses, turning to Sakura before they enter.

"I won't suggest you stop fighting. You're hardly the first young man to be drawn to it. But if you want to succeed, you must be smart about things. If you're going to pick fights, then you will have to learn fast."

The idea of never fighting again gets to Sakura, but perhaps not in the way intended. Fighting is the only way he knows how to engage with people--or to get people to engage with him. He doesn't believe there's hope for anything else in his future. Honestly, if he couldn't fight, he might as well curl up and...

"Sure, whatever." It's quiet and sullen. They're here at the clinic and his hackles are up again, like he doesn't know what to expect here (because he doesn't, truly. He can't remember ever having seen an Actual Professional Doctor before).

Logan nods, spins his hand and points to the door in a gesture for Sakura to turn around and march.

He's not going to let Sakura do this alone, and not just because he's the one with the money. Even with his little 'pep talk' he suspects Sakura might just run if left alone. Besides, he's more than comfortable with a bit of bureaucracy in the form filling.

The woman behind the counter is nice enough, and Logan takes the clipboard and starts filling out what he can. It's not much, of course, and he has to keep asking Sakura for information.

Which brings him to: "Do you have an emergency contact? Your parents, perhaps?"

"I don't have parents. And there's no one else who would care that I'm hurt."

His voice is heavy and flat at the same time there. He technically has a foster family. Technically. But he also...well, he's not just overexaggerating like teenagers do, when he says he has no one who would care. There is no melodrama, no angst. It's just the truth of his current situation.

All right then... He's just going to put himself down and hope they don't ask too many questions.

"I'm sorry. About your parents... Do you go to school?" He's starting to realise how little he knows about kids, even reasonably grown ones.

"Yeah. I'm at Furin High."

You know, the lowest ranked school in the country, known mostly for the delinquents who attend it.

Logan's pen stops for a moment. He's only barely come into town, but that has still been long enough for him to hear of Furin's reputation. He has to remind himself that he isn't Sakura's guardian. He can't pull the kid out of school and enrol him somewhere else.

Without another word, he finishes the form and hands it over before returning to sit next to Sakura. "They'll call you in a few minutes."

Sakura nods, looking down at the carpet. It's weird, having someone help him. Having someone care. Even when Logan turns that look of disappointment on him, it feels warm and heavy in his chest, in a way he can't remember ever feeling before.

~~His foster family keeps him in a shed out behind their house, separate from their actual son, as if they fear he might be contagious or something.~~

The doctor calls him on, and Sakura glances at Logan to see if he's planning on coming in for the exam or not.

Logan hadn't made to move, but the way Sakura looks at him catches him out. He blinks, looking between the doctor and the kid.

After a second he asks, "Would you like me to come with you?"

"You don't have to." The response is immediate, but.

It's not a no.

That is definitely not a no. Logan nods, and stands, making sure Sakura is with him before heading in with the doctor.

He did not mean to end up with a kid. He really didn't. But he couldn't just leave Sakura on the street continuously getting into fights with people bigger than him.

But he's more than capable of nudging Sakura to follow the doctor's instructions, and answer why they're here if the boy is reluctant. Or if he tries to dodge any of the details.

Sakura is clearly nervous, like he hasn't seen a doctor in...maybe ever? At least not in recent memory. And the doctor seems to grow more concerned as the exam goes on.

After checking Sakura's weight and height, the doctor hits Logan with a bit of a look of his own. "Are you feeding this boy? He's showing signs of being malnourished."

Sakura, pointedly, doesn't say anything.

Logan's eyes slide to Sakura. His expression doesn't change but if he were a telepath Sakura would be getting a very loud 'What in Skorm are you doing to yourself??'. Instead Logan's gaze slides back to the doctor.

"I'm not a very good cook. I will take some classes."

He has no idea of that's the right response, but it's worth a go. It's also true. Bad cooking is what you get when you've never had to cook for yourself before.

"You had better. I'd like to see him again in three months. Sooner, if he gets himself banged up like this again. But it'd be better if you found a way to keep him out of trouble."

Sakura grimaces, face turning red at the implied rebuke.

Wait a minute. What happens if he doesn't bring Sakura back? Will they call him about it? Will the police go looking for Sakura? What happens?

Suddenly it's a pretty sincere, "I will do my best."

Much easier said than done.

"It's not his fault." Sakura finally speaks up, though it's quiet, like he's not sure he's a part of this conversation. "He isn't why I'm like this."

The doctor looks doubtful, but beyond writing a recommendation for a multivitamin and an antibiotic ointment, he seems to be ready to move on from this. "If anything seems to be getting infected badly, that's another reason to come back sooner. Hot, red, puffy, gross discharge."

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