Song Of The Irish 1
(A/N: Third chapter up today and last chapter in the story.)
Orphan Alley
Dylan followed the crowds of mice heading to the rally listlessly, hardly looking up from the ground. Honest John hadn't left his side yet, silently walking alongside the young mouse. He didn't know what it was, but something about this young mouse struck a paternal cord in him. He would play father figure, for a time. He looked over at the silent boy and gently put a hand on his shoulder. Dylan glanced wearily up and forced a small smirk. As if that would assure the man. "I can't say I understand yer pain, Dylan, but I'm sorry far everythin'. No lad should 'ave ta go through an ordeal like that," John remarked.
"I don't want sympathy," Dylan quietly remarked.
"I wish I could give ya somethin' more, but I'm only a mouse, boy, no matter what me speeches say," John declared. Dylan chuckled softly and nodded. "'Ere's a good spot, lad. You'll get a good view. I 'ave ta move to the stage." John swiftly left. Dylan looked up at the stage quietly. Soon enough the rally began. He couldn't see the back of the stage, but he could see the rich woman. All at once a little figure in red and blue darted passed! Dylan started. Was that… No, it couldn't be! But yes, yes it was! Fievel!
He immediately began to try and shove passed the other mice, but they would have none of that. He was shoved back into place and shot dirty looks. He wouldn't be getting through this crowd, but maybe the Mousekewitz's, wherever they were, could see Fievel! That hope was dashed when no one cried out the mouse boy's name. He supposed no one would hear anyway over the cheering. Then the rich woman said they had a plan, and he just knew, if only from how outlandish and impossible it sounded, that it had come from the small boy.
AAT
Dylan wandered restlessly around the worksite. His eyes roamed desperately for any sign of the small boy. He'd seen the Mousekewitz's yet hadn't been able to even talk to them to tell them their beloved child was alive. He frustratedly turned back to working on the Giant Mouse of Mince. He had to admit, he hadn't thought they'd even get this far. It was shaping up nicely, and the plan was almost fool proof. Where was Fievel? He'd spotted Tony and Bridgette, as he learned her name was while working with the duo. Most of the work was done. All they had to do now was wait for six o'clock.
All at once he heard screaming. Everyone tensed up as the voice cried, "Cats, cats! The cats are coming!" Panic immediately ensued. He gasped and pulled away from the action, swiftly clambering up higher. That was the voice of a child! He reached the top and raced to the ledge, peering out into the dark. Sure enough there was the blue hat racing towards the safety of the other mice! Right behind him were cats galore. Dylan could only stare in shock. Fievel had gotten inside and suddenly he was surrounded as the other mice raced up and tried to distract the cats. It was too early!
Fievel was suddenly up there too. Dylan found himself right next to him! He was in arms reach yet he didn't move. Fievel was busy talking. "He's not a rat, he's a cat!" Fievel cried. Dylan gasped and looked sharply over. Warren T. Rat, was a cat? Actually, that wasn't a shocker, thinking back to the short time he'd watched the feline.
"Who are ya going to believe? Me, or your own eyes?" Warren asked. Dylan scoffed. He had to be kidding. Then he was trying to bargain for Fievel's life in exchange for them leaving! Protectively Dylan put a hand on Fievel's shoulder, the latter of which finally noticed him. The boys eyes widened on recognizing him. Not that either had any time to speak, because suddenly everything was happening at once.
The Giant Mouse of Mince wasn't working and desperately they were trying to get it to. Finally the time had come! Fievel darted off and grabbed a torch. Dylan desperately followed him, trying to catch up. He would have done so easily if he hadn't been barrelled into by two other mice. Fievel burned the rope, but suddenly it snapped back and struck him viciously! Dylan gasped and paled. The boy went flying! "No, Fievel!" Dylan cried, trying to get to him. The others had it covered, but the boy needed help!
AAT
He hardly could process how quickly the whole warehouse had caught on fire. All he realized was that suddenly he was alone in the middle of a burning building and dock, trying to find a little boy who could have very easily been killed by the rope snapping back on him. There were sirens; the humans were trying to put out the blaze. Dylan desperately searched through the building coughing on the smoke, even when he got low. "Fievel, where are ya lad!" he cried desperately.
Then he saw the boy's delicate frame leaning against something. He gasped and for a moment feared the worst. He sprang forward. Debris was about to fall on the child! He grabbed up the boy and raced out from under it. Quickly he carried the boy to an area that appeared to be wet enough for the fire not to reach well. He leapt up onto the object and placed the boy quickly down on the other side of it. Just then, however, a sudden burst of flame caught him, setting his clothes alight. He darted, intending to stop drop and roll, but all at once a jet of water from a hose struck him. He cried out in pain and went flying, nearly drowning in the process. He slammed onto the dock and cried out in pain, rolling.
He slid off the edge above the dark water! Desperately he grabbed the edge of the dock and clung onto it, trying to get back up. At least he wasn't on fire anymore, he wryly figured. The dock was slippery, though, and another blast of water suddenly hit him. He let go with a cry of fear and plunged into the ocean! Huge Ocean and small mouse did not mix, he realized in fear. Quickly he swam to the surface coughing. He saw land, but it seemed so far away! Nonetheless he began to swim. The last thing he wanted to be was fish food. And besides, he needed to find Fievel.
AAT
It seemed like hours before he reached land again, panting, gasping, coughing, soaked, chilled, and exhausted. He wouldn't doubt hypothermia. Weakly he staggered up and leaned against a rock trying to get his bearings. No mouse should have been able to swim that distance without drowning. Why hadn't he been one of those lucky ones? He looked up at the burned building and forced himself to move towards it. It was funny, really, he'd never begun to guess he had this kind of strength and endurance inside of him. Perhaps that was what the mouse fighters of Ireland had seen in him that he hadn't.
He made his way to the area he'd left the child, calling, "Fievel?!" He stopped and stared. No Fievel. No way. The boy couldn't have possibly scrambled away again! Where would he have gone, though? In his state, surely not far. He looked worriedly around and scanned the ground. He saw tracks there and started. A baby mouse's footsteps. Quickly he began to follow them, hoping the trail didn't dry up. Apparently the boy had awoken only a little while before he'd gotten to this spot.
He clambered through the streets looking around for the boy. After a time he came to an alley. Curiously he looked down it. It was dark and not at all a pleasant atmosphere. He looked for a sign and his heart dropped on finding it. Orphan Alley. Fievel. Dylan looked into it and quickly went down, looking around for the familiar blue hat. He saw children all around, sleeping either soundly or miserably on the ground in beds of straw. His heart went out to them. He knew what that was like well enough. He'd only been a young lad when his own parents had died. Too young to have been left alone. He hated feeling helpless, and he felt it now.
AAT
Then he stopped suddenly. He spotted the red shirt. No hat, but the red shirt, and the shivering mouse child. He stared quietly. He was about to go down and collect the boy when all at once he heard a violin being played, heard a name being called. "Fievel, Fievel!"
"Filly, where are ya!?" another shouted. Tony, he realized. The first that had called had been Tanya. Dylan fell back. Let his family find him.
Fievel was awake. He was calling for them, searching for them. Dylan followed from a distance, in case by some unfortunate event they missed each other again. It didn't happen. It almost did, but then… Well, this reunion happening in front of him hadn't spontaneously spawned. He watched from out of sight and smirked quietly. He watched Bridgette and Tony kiss. His smile became sad, his eyes tired, and then the smile fell. Tanya looked over just then, right at him. Her expression was awed. She probably thought he was her brother's guardian angel, judging by the look she was giving him. She gasped, grinned, and was about to run to him, but he shook his head quietly. She paused, grin falling. Not right now, Tanya, not right now, he silently willed. He tipped his hat to the girl then turned and walked away whistling The Winds That Shake The Barley. Tanya watched sadly after him, tears in her eyes, then looked down as the Irishman disappeared into the darkened alley's.