Hounded by Something He Cannot Define
A/N: No Bones about it: they're not mine. Mrs. Yaiden's name is a fanon gapfiller, though. The title is a variation on a line from "The Distance" by Cake, if that tells you anything about my unoffical soundtrack for writing Blue, especially where Hige's concerned...
When he looked back on the evidence, the old man had to admit that he should have expected to see this coming for a long time now.
When she had first arrived into his life, she had fitted easily in his seven-year-old son's arms. "Look at her, Pops! Doesn't she have the most beautifulest eyes you've ever seen? Please, please, please, please can we keep her? She doesn't have any home to go back to; I already checked," Bruce had said in a rush of excitement. In his arms, the puppy wagged her tail and tried to lick every inch of skin she could reach.
"Ask your momma," Quent had said rationally, although his heart was already won over. "We're going to need some supplies if we're going to take care of a puppy."
"I've got a rope and some food I can share with her." Bruce began a vocal list of their resources.
"Puppies need special food if they're going to grow up right. I'll get her some, and a proper collar and leash, and you make sure to clean up her messes and feed her right," Quent directed.
"Yes, sir!" Bruce said, lugging the wriggling bundle of soft black fur over to show his mother.
Three years later, with Quent Yaiden supervising her feedings, she had no longer fit quite so easily in Bruce's arms, although she was still light and rangy enough that his Pops could pick her up when she was getting into trouble. The young dog was getting to be fairly powerful; she was capable of nearly knocking Quent over when she came running. It was a good thing he and Bruce had trained her to be gentle with her family - Quent didn't mind having those sharp teeth at home to protect his wife and child, but he wanted to be very certain that they were only applied for the Yaidens' protection. That was the reason she learned to heel before she was ever trained to attack. She was already a natural at killing.
She had been at Quent's side when he returned home to find the roof collapsing in flames. "Go," he had told her, wishing that she had gone long before this. The wolves were larger than her, outnumbering them so greatly that Quent wasn't sure that he had enough bullets to take all of them down. However, the wolves fled like cowards as Blue and bullet launched themselves at the pack, disappearing into the smoke. Only one half-grown black dog returned with her ears low and her tail drooping, as if she had known she had failed him. She whined helplessly as if she knew how they had both failed Bruce and Rebecca. He had not had enough shotgun shells on him to kill those wolves, but Quent swore that he would have them eventually. "Find them," he told the dog, resting the butt of his gun on the ground. "Find those wolves, Blue."
Twenty, Quent Yaiden figured, had to be pretty old for a dog, even with the genetic tinkering the nobles' pet scientists had done over the years. He wasn't quite sure of the date, but assuming she'd been about four when they'd left their burning home, she had to be at least nineteen now. But there Blue was, his age in dog years and still pure blue-black long after his hair had gone as gray as the smoke and storm clouds that seemed to follow them from one city to the next. He hadn't given it a whole lot of thought at the time; the years and the cities tended to slosh together into an alcohol-soaked blur. Quent had left behind his sheriff star and set out after the wolves, trusting Blue's nose to track the sons of bitches down. The odd jobs and bottles of vodka might come and go, but Blue was steady. Blue was trustworthy. She was the constant friend in his life, and Yaiden swore that his dog understood him better than any human did these days. He didn't care that she didn't seem to age. Quent wasn't sure that he would be able to keep going if she did grow old and die.
He wasn't even sure what he was doing after she ran away from him. That just didn't seem like Blue; she knew to stick right by him in case they ran into a wolf. You never knew where they would turn up, Quent reflected darkly. However, Blue had already pointed out four of the beasts for him, and the detective he had run into again was just as determined to find those wolves as Quent was and Blue had been before she was lost to him. Lebowski seemed to think that the wolves could guide him to his Cher. Good for him if they did, Quent thought. Yaiden wondered if they would guide him to his missing girl, too. No one would replace Rebecca, but that old blue-black dog with pretty blue eyes had wormed her way into a place in his heart, as well.
He should have known. The evidence had been right at his side since Kyrios burnt down.
"Pops?" Quent closed his eyes, but the vodka hadn't caused this. The vodka had made him blind to it. "Pops?" the feminine voice asked again. Yaiden looked up to find his dark eyes meeting blue.