Note: written for the Free-For-All-Fic-For-All at the AskTheSquishykins tumblr.
Prompt: The girls have to take care of Squishykins after he inhales some of his fear toxin.
This is CATverse, taking place in July, 2015, in arc 5, after BiteMeTechie's "Hail to the King, Baby" and before my "Short and Spiffy."
I actually wrote this years ago, but never posted it because, frankly, I don't like it. But the prompt came up, so here it is. This will be getting a rewrite sometime.
The Scarecrow's lair was quiet as a tomb. There must have been a less clichéd way to think of it, but Al wasn't feeling very creative. She had just spent a long, dull morning doing laundry (and because she couldn't find any Gain, she had been forced to endure the lesser aroma of Purex.) The others were off doing other errands; she didn't know what. And their dear, squishy Scarecrow had been left to his own devices.
Now, she knew that involved working down in the lab, a place that was strictly forbidden to her. And it usually involved test subjects, such as the man they had brought him the day before, a street musician with a truly appalling voice that should have made for some interesting screams.
So what was with the ominous silence?
She dumped the laundry on the sofa for someone else to fold, and made her way to the top of the stairs. She knocked on the door. There was no response.
Hesitantly, she pushed the door open. There was no movement from below.
"Hey, boss?" she called. "I'm back with the stuff."
Nothing stirred.
This wasn't right.
For the first time since the month she had made his lair her home, Al entered the lab, sure he would come flying at her any second, demanding that she get out.
He didn't.
"Scarecrow?" She couldn't call him Squishykins or even Jonathan with a victim in the cage. She wasn't going to undermine his authority as Master of Fear. She just hoped he was willing to allay herfears. "Oh, Scarecrow? Hey, boss? Everything all right down here?" Still, nothing answered. "Jonathan?"
This time, she heard a faint groan from the direction of the cages.
She dropped all pretense of being a respectful minion, and ran.
"Squishy?"
He was lying on the floor of the cage, curled into a tight little ball, face hidden in the crook of his arm. He didn't react at all to her presence. The cage's former tenant was nowhere to be seen.
It wasn't hard to put the pieces together. The inept musician must have discovered some hidden strength, overpowered his captor, and subjected him to his own toxin before making his escape.
"Poor baby!" she cried as she threw open the cage door and knelt beside him. He still didn't move. "Oh, Squishykins, Squishy, it's okay, you're safe." She ran her fingers through his hair, hoping for some kind of reaction. When he still did nothing, she pulled his head and shoulders into her lap. Now he moved just enough to press his face into her leg, blocking his eyes from the light. "Hey," she whispered. "Hey, now. It's okay. I'm here. I'm here."
She should have known he wouldn't take that as a source of comfort. Still, she didn't know what else she could do. If he had an antidote lying around somewhere in all the clutter, she had no way of knowing which flask or vial it was in. So all she could do was hold him and try to help him ride it out.
"You're okay, Squishy. I promise, I'm not going to leave you." She tucked his hair behind his ear, giving him a tender smile that he never would have recognized. "Okay, baby. I'm going to take off your glasses now." He shook his head, pressing himself tighter against her.
"Don't." His voice, though muffled, was audibly terrified. "Can't lose them. Get in trouble."
"I won't lose them," she soothed. "I just don't want them to get broken."
"Can't get broken. Granny says."
"She's not here, and she's not going to hurt you." She hugged him close to her. "I'm not going to let anyone hurt you."
He surprised her by locking his arms around her waist.
"Always…hurt."
"No, not this time. I'm with you."
"No."
"Yes."
"No. There's never…help…"
"There is now." She rocked back and forth slightly, holding him in her arms. "I will never abandon you, Jonathan. I love you." She would never have said such a thing to him if she thought he could really understand her. But with the poor man trapped in his deepest nightmares, she was safe enough. Even if he did remember, later, he would just think it was part of the dream.
She held him close, somewhat guilty for so enjoying this sensation she would most likely never experience again.
He was hugging her. It didn't even matter that he was out of his mind and most likely had no idea who she was. He was hugging her like he'd never let go.
She stroked his hair, humming softly. He was shaking, holding her so hard it hurt. She let him cling.
"I will not let anyone hurt you," she promised him again. Wordlessly, he shook his head, no. "Hey, none of that. I mean it."
"No," he whispered. "It's always the same."
"Hey." She pulled him closer. "Talk to me, Squishy."
"No," he moaned.
"Hey…hey…" She didn't know if petting him was doing him any good, but what else could she do? "Come on. What's going on?"
"Corn."
Corn? She was struck by a highly implausible thought.
She had gotten over her own irrational fear of that particular vegetable years ago, but she could clearly remember that feeling of sick dread that had been so overpowering, way back when.
He couldn't possibly have the same reason she did. Could he?
"Where are you, Squishy? Tell me what's going on."
"Alley." He was shaking even more than before. "Don't…don't go in…"
"It's okay, Squishykins. You don't have to go in." This position was starting to be more than a little painful. She wasn't cut out for long periods on the floor with a Scarecrow in her lap.
She was going to have to get him up and sitting somewhere else. She would never get him up the stairs. Fortunately, he hadn't yet gotten rid of the battered old recliner that the Captain had snatched from someone's front yard and dumped in the lab when Al and Techie had forbidden it upstairs.
"Come on. Get up and come with me."
"No…"
"Oh, will you quit complaining? You're such a child." She softened the words with a peck on the cheek. What the hell, he wouldn't remember.
She tried to pull him up, only to realize that he wasn't going to cooperate.
Fine. She dragged him across the floor.
He was heavier than he looked. Maybe they had done their jobs a little too well, feeding him all the time.
That was a terrible way to think…but she couldn't help it. This would have been so much easier a year and a half ago, before "Squishy" had been quite such an appropriate nickname.
She gave him a friendly little squeeze for old time's sake, and tried to lift him up into the chair.
He would not be lifted.
"Come on, Squishy." He collapsed the moment she let go of him, still hiding his face—the only protection he could give himself.
She wanted so much to give him a hug, to hold him close, to shelter him and make all the bad things go away.
Why was she feeling this way? She always hated seeing him in trouble, and, yes, he could wake those protective urges like no one else. But never to this extent.
What was going on?
He moaned faintly, and she put an end to the introspection, wrapping her arms around his shoulders instead.
He was so worried about losing his edge with the three of them around. She doubted he had ever considered that he was having the same effect on her.
Here she was, the kid formerly known as "Rabies," hugging a man and whispering in his ear that everything was going to be all right.
"Come on, sweetheart, come on. Up in the chair." She raised him up, feeling very screwball comedy with poor Jonathan slumped over in her arms, so utterly unresponsive. If this were 1934, they would wind up married by the end of the movie.
She managed to get him almost standing, though he showed no sign of being ready to support his own weight. With her arms around his waist and her knees locked around his for support, she couldn't help thinking how this must look.
He pressed up against her, trembling, and buried his face in her chest.
"Oh…you wouldn't respect me in the morning." He slipped. She felt her face go hot, and tried to ignore what she could feel rubbing against her. "Get thee behind me, Satan. Thou art a stumbling block in my path."
She dropped him in the chair. He curled up on his side.
Poor baby. She was going to have to find him a blanket.
"Don't," he moaned. She hesitated. "Don't…go…"
"Okay, Squishy, okay. I won't leave you." She sat down on the arm of the chair and patted his shoulder from behind.
She almost fell off when he reached up to take her hand in his.
"Don't! Al!"
She slid down into the seat beside him.
"I'm here."
"Al…"
"I'm here!" She wrapped her arms around him, snuggling more than she thought he would have liked.
This wasn't exactly comfortable for her, with his shoulder blade pressing against her nose. She just hoped it was better for him than it was for her.
"Can't…"
"It's okay, baby. It's okay." He shook his head desperately.
"Too many. Can't fight. Run!" She held him still when he started to thrash.
"Be still, Jonathan. They're not going to hurt you. I won't let them."
"Don't let them." He sounded like he was crying. She held him tighter, ready to promise him the sun and the moon if it would banish the demons in his mind. "Please—don't hurt her."
"Her?" She sat up. Out of the protective circle of her arms, he shrank in on himself. She stared at him.
Her?What the bloody hell was that supposed to mean?
"Al!"
"I'm…okay, I'm here." Gingerly, she sat down next to him again. "I'm with you."
"Leave her alone."
"Oh, Squishy." She put her arms around him again. "My hero. But, don't worry. I'll never tell."
-0-
Several hours later, when Jonathan was semiconscious and Al was stiff from holding the same position for far too long, she got him up and led him up the stairs to the kitchen, where she found the Captain and Techie making soup.
"My God! What happened?"
She shushed them.
"Toxin. Get the man some comfort food." She eased him down into the nearest chair. Shuddering, he clung to her hand when she started to move away. The others didn't notice.
"Squishykins, what happened?" the Captain crooned, pressing her own hot cup of tea into his hand.
"Who do we need to kill?" Techie added.
He just stared off into space, shaking.
"He'll be okay in a little while," Al said. "He's doing much better already. Let's just get him fed and put him to bed. All he really needs is food and rest. Isn't that right, squish face?"
"Everywhere," he muttered. She gently squeezed his hand.
Techie and the Captain hugged him from behind.
"Don't worry, Squishy. We'll take good care of you."
Al grinned.
"And you can go ahead and hate us for it in the morning."
And he would, even if she never told him what she knew.
She wouldn't tell him, of course. She wasn't letting anyone in on this little secret.
She was going to have plenty to think about, though. The poor thing got a dose of his fear toxin, and what did he see?
Her.
And he wasn't seeing her as a threat, no, not anymore. He was afraid of seeing someone hurt her and being powerless to stop it.
Unbelievable. If that wasn't lurve, she didn't know what was.
But she wasn't going to talk to him about it. She couldn't, really.
In some ways, they were more alike than he would ever know.