Author's notes
Hi! Thank you so much for your kind reviews! Reading them made me so happy! ❤
The illustration for this chapter you can either find on my DoodleAddicts account (…/vincentthecat/) or on the story Rooftops of New York that I post on Archive Of Our Own (VincentTheCat).
If all goes well I'll post the next chapter in four weeks (Sunday 06.12).
Chapter 11 "The Found One"
"Can a mother forget her infant,
be without tenderness for the child of her womb?
Even should she forget,
I will never forget you."
Isaiah 49:15 (NABRE)
"I should have said Central Park. Why did I not say Central Park? Why Prospect Park? I don't know Brooklyn. I don't want to be here," Satch hears the pup mumble.
Let's play! Satch barks and gently grabs the two-leg's hand.
"Yuck!" the pup pushes Satch's head away and falls to his knees. He holds Satch's head between his two palms and locks his eyes with Satchmo's. "You're absolutely right. We should go back."
The-little-friend sits next to them, his tail flicking.
Let's play, Satch whines again, giving the pup a kiss on the nose. The-missing-one laughs, then scoops the-little-friend back into his arms. "I don't know what to do," he whispers.
When Satch tries to sniff the cat, the-little-friend pats his nose. He looks back at the-missing-one. Why won't he play?
/\_/\
='x'=
She frowned hard at the screen of her phone. It was 3:26 PM. The boy was running ten minutes late. Should she call?
She ran a hand through her hair.
Why can't you be here, Peter?
Her phone buzzed. That's him, she thought immediately checking the message and…
No, the message was not from Neal.
[Hon: Did he come?]
She sighed. It was 3:27 PM.
Not yet, she typed in response.
[Hon: Don't worry. Let me know when he comes.]
She sighed and typed OK. She guessed she should not expect a child to be very punctual, but still… Gazing at the screen of her phone she sighed once again, then chose the newest number from her list of contacts.
"Okay," she breathed out. "Please answer."
/\_/\
='x'=
Neal has been hugging his two friends for a while now when the sudden buzz of his phone makes him flinch.
"Mister Keller!" he exclaims in panic, pulling away from Satch and taking out his phone. He is just about to hit the ANSWER button when…
It is not his mentor, he realizes. Instead, it is that annoying lady again.
He watches the screen blankly until it goes black and the phone is silent again.
Then, comes the text message.
[unsaved number: Sweetie, are you okay?]
"Why do you want to know?" he mumbles under his breath and then blinks as the next text message from the lady comes in.
[unsaved number: If you've run into some kind of trouble, please let me know. If you got lost I can give you directions. I'm sitting on the steps to the Brooklyn Museum, waiting for you.]
"…You are?" Neal asks.
[unsaved number: If you can call me back.]
Neal snorts.
"Yeah, well. Sorry. I can't," he states before pocketing the phone. "Come on," he turns to his two friends. "Let's get out of here," he says, picking up Vincent in his arms again. "It was a bad idea."
Satch, at his side, barks.
Feeling like crying again, Neal sits on the sidewalk and hugs his knees. Satch kisses him on the face, wagging his tail. He whines softly.
"I have no idea what you're telling me," Neal whispers, resting his hand on the top of the dog's head. "Do you miss her?"
Neal flinches and looks at his phone. The lady is not giving up.
[unknown number: Or at least type 'ok' so I know you're alright.]
Reading the message, Neal sighs. He rests his head against Satchmo's head and gazes at the screen. His fingers hover over the keyboard.
Satch whines.
Ok, Neal finally types. He sends the message and grimaces at the immediate response.
[unknown number: Thank you so much! I'm waiting for you then.]
/\_/\
='x'=
Looking around the park Satch wags his tail. The smells… The smells are very familiar, he realizes.
He sniffs the ground, then a tree.
His friends, he realizes. His friends have been here.
The scent of his friends reminds him of the hunts with the-ones-who-smell-of-home. From the time before they got lost and he met the-missing-one.
Looking up at the lost pup and the-little-friend, Satch barks. I know this place, he tells them.
/\_/\
='x'=
Watching the dog grow more excited, Neal feels his heart sinking. Satch knows this place.
He watches the dog as he enthusiastically continues to explore the park. He gets farther and farther away. And he waits for neither Neal nor Vincent. He does not care. Hugging Vincent close to his chest Neal squats.
"Satch!" he cries and breaths in relief as the dog looks back at him. He watches him run towards them with a wagging tail and… "No!" Neal protests, jumping to his feet as the dog tries to knock both Vincent and him down. "Not playing…"
The dog barks, running around them in a wide circle.
"Be silent or she'll hear you!"
Satchmo does not seem to care. Feeling heat in his face, Neal watches him run away from him, bark, get to his elbows and bark again.
"Quiet!" Neal snaps and the dog pauses. He watches him lie on the ground and whine, wagging his tail. Angrily, Neal kneels on the grass and does something he only did during their walks when the adults told him to.
Avoiding his friend's gaze, he fishes the hand-made leash out of his backpack. The dog licks his hands.
"Satchmo. You have to stay with me, okay?"
/\_/\
='x'=
As the pup prevents Satch from reading his friends' messages, Satch whines. He looks at the-missing-one with rebuke.
We're close to the Burke-den. I know it, he tells the pup. I can find the way.
"Quiet, Satch! Quiet…" the-missing-one hisses.
I know how to get us unlost, Satch whines yet again. I know the way!
/\_/\
='x'=
As she paced back and forth, Elle's eyes darted from person to person. Her heart skipped a beat every time she saw a child. One moment she had her hopes up only to be disappointed the next.
She did not know what Neal looked like or even how old he was. She doubted though, that the boy would come with an adult or another child. None of the lone, young passers-by seemed to be looking for anyone. They were not Neal.
Her headache was getting worse.
She switched on her phone again. Her fingers hovered over the only text message that she got from the boy. Almost an hour passed since he had sent it.
[Neal: Ok]
She read the word again.
Ok.
It echoed in her mind.
But Neal was wrong. Nothing was okay.
Shaking her head, Elle let out a deep breath. She really had waited long enough. "All right, sweetie," she mumbled, pressing the CALL button. "Let's try this again."
/\_/\
='x'=
Neal looks at the people waiting on the steps of the museum. From the spot he is hiding in, none of them can see him.
"I think she did not come," he tells the dog at his side. The disloyal creature has been trying to get away from his hug almost the entire time. "I think she does not want you. I think…"
His eyes pause on the raven-haired, casually dressed woman in her thirties. She does not look like someone who likes yellow labs. Neal is certain of that.
Sharp teeth pinch his hand slightly. Neal looks down into the cat's reproachful eyes. Vincent does not like Neal's current hiding spot any more than Satchmo does.
"It's ok…" Neal murmurs before turning to look at the people on the steps again.
Of course she would lie. This is, after all, what adults are best at. Lying. So of course…
Smiling, Neal gets up from the ground. "Okay," he decides. "We're good to—"
As his phone rings, he nearly drops Vincent.
It is her. It is that lady. He silences the device. He refuses to look in the direction of the steps leading to the Brooklyn Museum. After a moment the screen goes blank.
Only a second passes before the lady tries calling him again.
"Stop it," he mumbles.
[unsaved number: If you run into some sort of trouble on your way here, please let me know. Maybe I can help.]
Vincent wiggles in his arms.
"Hey!" horrified, releasing Satchmo's leash, Neal leaves their hiding spot and chases the escapee.
/\_/\
='x'=
Elle's hand clutching the phone turned pale. She was starting to lose hope. If she did not manage to contact the boy, no one would. Peter needed a warrant to check phone records. He was not going to get a warrant for no apparent reason. And they had no plausible cause.
For all they knew it might have been just a kid playing a prank on them.
Feeling desperate, she sent another text message.
Come on, come on, come on…
"Hey!" someone shouted.
In a daze, she watched a ginger cat jump off the wall and onto the steps of the Museum. The cat took in its surroundings, its tail flicking.
What…
And then she saw him.
"Vin!" A little boy followed the ginger blur over the wall. In a hurry, the child stumbled. She watched him reach the cat in a matter of seconds.
Can it be?
And then another sound could be heard. The barking of a dog.
With her eyes wide open, she watched the Labrador Retriever jump off the wall. Not only did he sound familiar.
"Satchmo!" nearly dropping her phone, Elle rushed towards the three late arrivals.
/\_/\
='x'=
"Satchmo!" Hearing the woman's shout from his left, Neal freezes.
He watches the raven-haired lady rush towards them. To take Satch away. To steal him!
"No!"
/\_/\
='x'=
Hearing the familiar voice calling his name, Satch pauses in mid-run. He cocks his head and watches the familiar looking two-leg as she rushes towards their pack.
The two-leg does not just look and sound familiar, he realizes. The-two-leg smells familiar too. The-two-leg… The-two-leg is pack!
She-who-smells-of-home! Barking, Satchmo passes the-missing-one. He keeps running until he reaches she-who-smells-of-home, who envelopes him in a tight hug.
We found you! We found you! We did it! He barks joyfully. He kisses her hands and face. He does not stop barking. You're unlost! You're unlost! He whines.
/\_/\
='x'=
Overwhelmed with emotions, Elle fell onto her knees and chuckling, wrapped her arms around the barking dog. She could not believe it. It was impossible.
"Boy, it really is… How…" She choked on the unexpected tears as the dog continued barking, gleefully jumping around her. "Satch…"
/\_/\
='x'=
As Satchmo overtakes him, startled, Neal stumbles mid-run and loses his balance. Unable to regain his footing, he protectively curls his body around Vincent. They hit the ground hard.
Neal looks up. His eyesight wavers. His ears are ringing, everything is blurry. He can hear the dog barking excitedly. He tries to focus on the yellow blur jumping around the woman. Black blends with yellow. The dog whines. He imagines the woman wrapping her arms around Satch. He cannot get enough air. His breathing sounds harsh in his ears.
This… This is the end.
Neal closes his eyes. Vincent is warm in his arms.
They are alone.
Again.
/\_/\
='x'=
Still in shock, somehow, Elle managed to turn her attention away from Satchmo and look past him. Fear grabbed her heart.
"Sweetie, are you all right?!" Getting up from her knees, she rushed towards the child.
Easily overtaking her, Satchmo ran to the boy she assumed was Neal. She stared at the dog as he tried to get the child's attention. Neal just covered his face.
/\_/\
='x'=
See! We've found her! We've found she-who-smells-of-home! Now everything is going to be all right, Happily, Satch announces the good news to the pup.
She-who-smells-of-home joins them. Whining Satch jumps to give her a kiss.
Your pup! Look! I've found your pup!
She pats his head and he turns back to the-found-one.
He pushes his nose into the-little-friend's fur.
And the-little-friend! I've found him too, he whines joyfully.
/\_/\
='x'=
Sitting on the edge of the steps Elle felt uncertain. Instinctively, she reached out to comfort the child. Then she hesitated, her hand hovering uselessly over the boy's shoulder.
"Neal?" she asked. "Sweetie? Are you all right?"
The child wrapped his arms tighter around the cat, his face remaining hidden from Elle's sight.
She frowned at his appearance. The clothes he was wearing looked fresh. He looked tidy, or at least as tidy as a boy his age could be. He must have fallen on his right knee. She saw the tear in his black trousers. The blood was seeping through the cloth.
The fall seemed to skin not only his knee but also his elbow. The scratches looked nasty, dirty with the dust, but thankfully shallow.
She cleared her throat. "Sweetheart? Can you look at me?"
/\_/\
='x'=
Neal does not want to look. He does not want to look at either Satchmo or the lady. Not ever. Hugging Vincent close to his chest, he regrets ever coming here.
Someone's hand touches his shoulder. "Neal? Sweetie, can you hear me?"
Satch tries to kiss him again, whining for some reason.
"Go away!" he snaps, jumping to his feet. For a moment it seems to work because both the lady and Satch stop bothering him but then…
Satch jumps at Neal, but before he falls, the lady catches him. She leads him to sit on the steps. "Neal?" she repeats his name without letting go of his arm, her ocean-blue eyes fixed on his. As her face becomes blurry, he blinks.
The lady smiles softly. "Hi, Neal. My name is Elle. We've talked on the phone," she says. He takes a shuddering breath.
He knows that… Does she think he does not know that?
/\_/\
='x'=
The boy had a small scratch on his chin, but otherwise the child's face seemed to be unhurt. She watched him wipe away the tears tiredly. It was hard to keep calm.
Elle forced a smile. She squeezed his arm gently. "Hi, Neal," she said. "My name's Elle. We've talked on the phone…" she paused, waiting for him to respond.
He did not.
"Sweetheart. How are you feeling?"
He looked away from her.
"I'm ok…" he mumbled and Elle breathed a sigh of relief.
The child turned his gaze back at her. He narrowed his eyes angrily. "You're here to take Satchmo away!" he accused her in a tone similar to the one she had heard him use on the phone.
Elle took a deep breath.
"No, sweetie," she said softly. "No. I'm here just to meet you. Meet you and…" her voice cracked. "and Satch," she whispered. Feeling new determination, she locked her eyes with the boy again. "And I see I can meet Vincent too."
/\_/\
='x'=
Hearing the statement, Neal blinks. Vincent…?
He watches the lady reach out to the cat. "Hi, little one…" She smiles as Vincent starts sniffing her fingers. "I've heard so much about you. You must be a good friend of Satch's too."
Her eyes for a moment flick back to Neal.
"He is," he confirms warily.
"I'm glad." The lady smiles yet again. "I haven't seen a fluffier cat in my life." Her tone is kind as she speaks to the cat and after a moment Neal can see Vincent warming up to her. He pushes his head against her palm. "Oh, hi…" She meets Neal's eyes for a moment. "He's so soft!" she says.
The lady sits on the step next to them.
"I'm so glad you came," she tells them. "I was getting really worried, you know…"
"Yeah?" Neal mumbles.
The lady nods.
"I'm sorry," he says.
She shakes her head. "I'm just glad you came."
She smiles at him.
She is..? Why?
"You're hurt." She gestures at his knee and he frowns.
"What?" he asks.
"Don't worry. I'll take care of that," she says. He watches her get up and stop next to one of the people on the steps. And only then does he realize… They are all watching them. His heart picks up a pace. Why are they staring at them? "Hi, I'm sorry, but could you help us? Could you ask one of the Museum employees to give us some first aid kit supplies? As you can see we have pets so we cannot go inside…"
"Yes, yes, of course," Neal watches the other lady's gaze flick to him for a moment, then back to Elle. "Of course," she nods and when Elle turns around, he watches her rushing up the steps to the museum entrance.
First aid kit? Elle sits back on the stairs, next to him. Still smiling.
"Are you hurt?" he asks her uncertainly and she chuckles softly.
"You're hurt," she tells him pointing to his knee again for some reason. "I have not seen you fall. Have you hit your head? Does it hurt?"
His head does hurt. It has been hurting ever since he found out about the LOST DOG flyers. Wrapping his arms around Vincent, Neal does not answer. A hand touches his shoulder. "Sweetie?"
He looks back at Elle. "No," he says. "No, it doesn't."
"You sure?" she asks and he nods. "Okay." She smiles, patting his back. "Okay, don't worry. I understand."
Closing his eyes, Neal rests his head on Vincent's soft belly again. He does not know why, but suddenly he just feels… tired. Very tired. He wishes he would be back at the workshop.
/\_/\
='x'=
Watching the boy withdraw into himself, Elle did not know what to say next. Not stopping to draw circles on the child's back, she fished out her phone.
[Me: Neal came. He looks around 9-12 years old.]
She did not have to wait long for an answer. Peter texted back almost right away.
[Hon: Can you handle it?]
She glanced sideways at the child sitting next to her. She sent another message.
[Me: Work?]
That time it took Peter longer to answer. Her hand felt the warmth on the boy's back.
[Hon: It's really important that I locate this suspect. I'll tell you all about it after it's over, but he's young and he needs my help too. Do you want me to send someone else? Or should I come?]
Elle sighed.
[Me: I understand. We're good for now. You're busy, but will you be able to get home before the op?]
"Hi!" The voice came from behind her, and when Elle looked back, she recognized the woman she had earlier asked for help with the first aid kit.
"Hi," she smiled at her, pocketing the phone.
The woman crouched next to them and then gave her the supplies. "They've given me hydrogen peroxide and bandages." She glanced between Neal and Elle for a moment and then stood up.
"Thank you," Elle said. She turned to look at the child, for all appearances completely lost in his own world.
"Neal? I'm going to patch you up now, okay?" she asked softly.
/\_/\
='x'=
Someone keeps nagging him. Telling him something. Annoyed, Neal finally opens his eyes and looks up. The stranger gazes back at him. Her eyes are the colour of the ocean. Startled, Neal tries to step back and the woman grabs his hand.
"Neal? Sweetheart, it's all right," she tells him. "It's okay…"
He blinks at her. He knows her. Or at least… He thinks he does.
Satchmo, comes the thought and Neal turns to look at the dog in panic. She is after him. She is going to take him away.
"Hey, breathe, sweetie. Breathe… Look at me."
He looks up. The lady smiles kindly back at him.
"It's all right," she says rubbing circles into his palm. "You're all right."
He glances at their hands. Why is she touching him?
"Listen, sweetie. That lady I asked for help before, remember? She came. And look what the museum staff gave us."
Letting go of his hand, she shows him some bandages and a small bottle. Hydrogen peroxide, reads the label.
"We'll have a look at that elbow first, okay? You think you can roll up your sleeve for me?"
Elbow…?
He looks at her blankly and she pats his hand.
"Because look, you're hurt," she points to his elbow. "Here and here," she shows him the knee.
Neal frowns. He is not hurt.
The lady strokes his hand again. "Sweetie. Please," she softly tells him. "Roll up your sleeve."
/\_/\
='x'=
She had to repeat the request four times, but finally, the child agreed. She disinfected her hands.
"It's going to itch a little bit, okay?" she asked him quietly. He did not nod. Nevertheless, she decided against repeating the question again.
He did not flinch when she poured hydrogen peroxide on his elbow. As gently as she could she rubbed on the wound, trying to get rid of the dust. It came off easily. She wondered for a moment whether she should not leave it the way it was, without the plaster. But then, Satchmo made a whine and she, reminded of both him and the cat decided against it. She dried the skin around the elbow, put on the plaster and then wrapped a thin piece of bandage around the boy's arm. Throughout the entire procedure, she felt his intense electric blue eyes on her.
"Okay, and we're done," she said once she was finished. "Now the knee."
/\_/\
='x'=
With a trouser leg rolled up, Neal watches the lady repeat her previous steps. She desensitizes his knee and then wraps it around with a bandage.
"All better now." She smiles up to him. "Any other battle scars I should be worried about?"
"Battle scars?" he echoes.
"Your elbow and your knee are hurt. Are you hurt somewhere else?"
He looks at her.
"Sweetheart?"
Saying nothing, he looks away. She sits next to him. He feels her hand rest on his shoulder.
"It's okay. I won't get mad," he hears her say. "I just want to help."
Help?
"I'm not…" He wraps his hand more tightly around Vincent. "…I don't need help," he mumbles.
"Okay," the lady says. "I understand, Neal." She takes her hand away from his shoulder and rests it on her knee and…
Neal watches as Satch immediately tries to push his snout under that hand, demanding to be patted. Her smile is troubled as she runs a hand through the dog's hair. She scratches him behind the ear and Satch licks her hands. He whines softly, his gaze for a moment flicking to Neal.
Neal looks away. He clenches his fists.
Satch missed her.
She missed him.
They missed each other. And so, Satchmo is going to leave. No matter what Neal does.
/\_/\
='x'=
"…So, you see. That's why I'm worried about what you've told me on the phone. Is it really just Satch and Vincent that are living with you?"
Having received no answer to her question again, Elle sighed. She was no interrogator. She had no idea what to ask or how to act in front of the boy. But right at that moment, she was all Neal had. Looking sidelong at the child's profile, she rubbed her temple.
There was a thousand-yard stare on Neal's face. But the tears on his cheeks were mostly dry. Deciding to try again, she took a deep breath.
"Listen, sweetheart—"
As the child's gaze suddenly shifted from Satch to her, so deep was the misery in those young eyes that Elle flinched.
"I don't want him!"
"…Sorry, what?" she asked.
The boy shook his head. He stood up. "Take him."
She did not answer. The child pursed his lips, gazing down at her angrily.
"I said, take him!" he shouted.
"I, um," she stuttered, feeling confused over the sudden change of mood.
Neal looked away from her and wrapped his arms more tightly around the ginger cat. "He's a traitor anyway…" She heard him mumble.
She stood up. "But sweetheart—"
The little boy abruptly turned on his heel. It had been the only warning she got before he started running madly down the stone stairs, jumping several steps at a time.
/\_/\
='x'=
Running as fast as he can, Neal does not think. Not anymore. He cannot think. He cannot think or else he will turn back and…
Woof! Woof! Woof!
The barking yellow Labrador overtakes him, and Neal abruptly stops. No, why is Satch not with the lady, why is he…
"Street!" He turns around and sees the lady, as she, panting, stops at his side. "There's a street, the cars," she breaths out, taking hold of Satch's leash.
Oh. So that's why… He turns away.
"WAIT!"
"Don't!" Neal cries as two forceful hands grasp his shoulders, holding him in place. He spins around. This person turns out to be the bad lady.
She immediately lets him go. Her eyes are wide.
He takes two steps back, his heart is racing in his chest.
She raises her hands in the air and Neal realizes she has not just let go of him, but also of Satch's leash. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to," she utters. "Neal, I-I just... D-do not run away, okay?"
Feeling heat on his face, Neal purses his lips. Ignoring Satch's gleeful gaze at him and his whines, he leans down to grab the leash quickly. He hands it back to the lady.
"Take him," he says, closing his eyes. "Take—"
She touches his hand. But not to take the leash from him. Instead he feels both her hands close on his own, making his grip on the leash into a fist.
"No," she quietly says.
"What?" He looks back at her in disbelief.
She shakes her head, patting his hand. She drops her hands to her sides. "Not before we talk."
What is there to talk about?
Shifting from foot to foot, Neal scrunches his eyebrows. She cannot do this to Satch. She cannot abandon him again! "Just take him!" he cries, trying to give the woman the leash again.
/\_/\
='x'=
Elle's heart was still racing in her chest as she gazed down at the angry boy, desperate to figure out how to make him stay and talk with her. Dear God. If it were not for Satchmo, he would have run away.
"No," she said.
There were angry sparks in his eyes as he gazed at her. But then… Something did change. She watched his hand drop to his side, his shoulders sagged. He heavily leaned on one of the bollards separating them from the street. He was not looking at her anymore.
"You're changing the rules, ma'm," she heard him mumble quietly. Instead of angry, his voice was slow and slurred. As if he was physically hurt to say anything. "You said that if I let you… And I let you. Why don't you want him anymore? What has he… What has he done to you that you don't want him anymore?"
Looking at him Elle felt a prickle of tears in her own eyes. Her throat was tight. She did not know how to answer. She did not think there was a right answer, really. There was probably so much more to the boy's mind than the mere fear that Satch would not have a home.
She ran a hand over her face and took a deep breath to calm herself. How long was the child up? She got the first call from him around 4 AM. How much sleep did he have last night? There were deep shadows under his swollen and red eyes.
"Sweetie, have you eaten anything today?" she asked softly.
The child's eyes flicked back to her. "What?"
"Are you hungry?" she asked him again.
He did not answer.
"Because I have an idea. Maybe we grab a bite together and talk some more. I'm sure you have some nice stories to share about your and Satch's adventures. For example, how you met each other."
"Um… But…" She watched him wrap his arms tightly around the ginger cat in his arms. "I don't know," he mumbled.
"When do you have to be back home?" she asked him once again, hoping that despite everything Neal had said so far she would hear a reasonable answer.
/\_/\
='x'=
"Um," looking up at the lady, Neal has to stifle a yawn. When? What should he answer?
The heist is happening around midnight, but is it really what the lady is asking…?
"What do you mean midnight?!" the lady echoes and Neal covers his mouth.
Has he said it out loud? But not about the heist, right? She cannot know anything about the heist…
"Sweetheart, you—" the lady hesitates. He has to stifle another yawn. He watches her run a hand over her face and then take a deep breath. "Okay. That's okay," she tells him, then holds out her right hand to him. He gazes at it blankly.
"Come on," she tells him, dropping her hand after a moment. "Let's grab something to eat."
He has no idea why he follows her as she starts leading the way.
But he does.
Next (06.12): Satch's Mum