"Listen, Honey," she told him, and he jerked upright for a moment before sinking down again. "Juhst listen, now. Ah think you need some kinda help from the doctor. So Ah'm gonna help you in there, 'kay?"
Dennis babbled in reply, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. She sighed and patted his shoulder.
"Come on, let's getcha inside."
He made to get up but stumbled; she took hold of his arm and supported him as they limped into the tent.
"Doctor?" she called as they entered. "Bookshire? Ah think this guy needs help."
Bookshire indicated that he would be there in a moment, finished changing the bandages on the lioness' feet, and came over. He looked at Dennis. "Ah, yes," he said gently, as though deep in thought. "Come and take a seat."
The wildebeeste struggled to relax enough to sit, although when he did, he crumpled in a heap. Bunnie helped steady him, but just as she did, a commotion began outside.
Bunnie groaned. It was that darned rhinoceros again; she recognised his voice. "Ah'll be raght back," she snapped and jogged outside.
"You gonna say somethin' fatty?" Crag growled, and pushed the pig hard on the shoulder. The teenager stumbled and struggled back, but the rhino was faster and gripped his arm. "I said..." Crag pushed his face into the pig's until his horn squashed the pig's nose and finished the sentence with a dangerously quiet edge, "...do you wanna say somethin' to me?"
"I-I..." the adolescent stammered. Crag snorted, pulled back one fist to deliver a smashing blow to his victim's jaw. The pig squeezed his eyes shut in preparation for the punch.
A cold, metallic hand gripped the rhino's wrist. "Let him go."
Crag grunted in surprise. "You again, bitch?"
"Let. Him. Go."
With an angry snarl, Crag dropped the pig, then turned an angry glare on Bunnie. "Let go of me, whore," he snarled, and attempted to pull his hand away from hers - without success.
Bunnie lifted her other hand and Crag, instinctively, raised his own free arm. With a sleight of hand that left the rhino momentarily baffled, she gripped his other wrist and pulled both behind his back. "Rotor!" she called.
Rotor, who was loitering at a distance watching other events, looked over, saw the situation and hurried closer. "You okay there, Bunnie?" he asked.
"Sure, honey," Bunnie replied and put a foot on Crag's back to pin him down harder. "Can you get me some handcuffs or somethin'?"
Rotor blinked at her. "Handcuffs? I'm not sure I've got an..." Then he thought again. "No, actually I have. Can you hold him while I go back to Knothole?"
"Sure thang."
xXx
Bunnie remained with Crag the whole time. One of the benefits of her partial roboticization was that it had metalized her skeletal system; neither her robotic hand, nor her organic one, tired of their grip. Nevertheless, when she saw Rotor approach, she couldn't help but feel relieved.
Without a word - mostly because he was breathing so hard - Rotor knelt by Bunnie and fitted the cuffs to the rhino's wrists. Bunnie shunted Crag unceremoniously forward so that she could pull his feet up behind him. "Fucking... bitch," he snarled.
Rotor backhanded the rhino's ear with a painful-sounding whack. "Shut up," he snapped, and shifted to allow Bunnie space to maneuver the prisoner's legs while he entwined the footcuffs to the hand ones. Ignoring Crag's thrashing and swearing, he snapped the second pair of cuffs closed on his ankles.
"There!" he said triumphantly and dusted his palms. "Shall we move him, Bunnie?"
"Sure thang, Sugah," she replied, brushing her fringe out of her eyes. "A little way off from the camp, d'ya think? Ah don't think it's a good ahdeah for the little ones to hear his ol' potty mouth."
Rotor nodded. "You're right, I've had enough of this guy, too," he said, and took hold of the rhino's elbows. Bunnie took his knees, and together they maneuvered him out of the main camp.
"Goddam motherfuckin' dick-pleasers! I'll get you fuckin' asswipes if it's the last thing I..." Crag continued to rant.
"You sweet-talk all the girls like this?" Bunnie chirruped, and shared a wry grin with Rotor. He couldn't resist a chuckle.
xXx
Night had fallen. The atmosphere had relaxed noticeably since Crag had been taken care of, and the Rock Beach refugees were much calmer. Rotor glanced at them all as they stood, or sat, or talked, or cried, or tended wounds. Between them, the Knothole Freedom Fighters - and Dr. Draftwood, of course - had done a good job. But there was only one person Rotor really wanted to see right now; someone he still felt tense about. He decided to go see her.
The inside of the tent was quiet: Bookshire had gone outside to eat. Now, the only sounds were that of the polar bear's slow breathing and the soft rustlings of the kangaroo's sleepy movements. Scallion made not a sound.
Rotor approached, walking around Doris' bed to get to Scallion's. The old turtle was awake; she looked peaceful and her deep-set eyes twinkled as she contemplated the softly-flapping tent roof. As he came within easy view, she turned her head slightly and smiled in recognition, her already-heavy wrinkles growing deeper still.
He sat on the edge of her bed and said nothing.
"Hello, Rotor," she said in a voice rough, yet soft.
"Hi," he replied gently. "I wanted to see how you were."
A throaty in-breath preceded her reply. "I'm comfortable here. I'm so very grateful to you for rescuing me. Thank you, young man." She glanced down and took his hand in her own.
"Are you gonna be alright?" he asked.
Scallion smiled, an ancient, mysterious smile. "I'm sure I'll be just fine. Don't worry, Rotor, everything will work out as it should. That's the way of the world."
Rotor nodded. "I'll make sure someone helps you get back to Rock Beach." Scallion's smile faded then, and Rotor felt troubled by this. So he added: "...a-and if nobody will, you can count on me!"
Something passed across the ancient turtle's face then. Was it pity? Rotor couldn't be sure, but he felt the need to say something else. Unsure of what else to say, he said, "Is that pillow soft enough? I'll go get you another one."
There was that look again; Scallion patted his hand. "Thank you, my dear," she said, a little sadly.
With a feeling of dread he couldn't quite identify, Rotor went to find another pillow, telling himself the reason he was rushing was that she must be uncomfortable.
xXx
Antoine watched Rotor and the turtle out of the corner of his eye. The coyote was exhausted, almost too exhausted even to be proud of the work he'd done, although some part of his mind told him he should be.
What worried him, however, was the turtle. He'd made sure she was as comfortable as she could be; he'd been keen to do all he could to soothe her pain. But she seemed slow and dreamy, becoming less present with each passing hour, and a conversation with Dr. Draftwood had made him feel aggrieved: it was unlikely the turtle would survive the night.
And as he watched Rotor chat with her, he wondered how his comrade would cope with the impending death.
"Antoine?" a voice pulled him out of his reverie. It was the Princess; Antoine dragged his attention away from Rotor and the turtle to her.
"Hello, my princess," he said wearily. "'Ow are you?"
"I came to find out how you are," she replied.
Antoine found himself unexpectedly touched by her concern. "I... I am tired. And I..." he squeezed his eyes shut; there were so many thoughts going through his head, he couldn't tell them all apart any more. "I am worried about 'ow we will release ze rhinoceros."
Sally looked puzzled. "I don't think you need to worry about him, Antoine. Sonic can deal with him."
It was at about that moment that the pressure of the last few hours, the guilt of the failures and the relief of the successes, plus the concern about the refugees' futures after tonight, all seemed to land afresh on his shoulders and he had to turn away. He pinched the bridge of his muzzle as his eyes suddenly felt hot.
"Antoine?" the princess asked quietly. He felt her hand on the back of his shoulder and she coaxed him into the corner of the tent. But Antoine felt paralyzed by this intensification of feeling, and Sally embraced him.
"I am zorry, I am zorry, Princess," he gulped and turned away again to wipe at the tears. "Eet 'as been... eet 'as been so 'ard. People 'ave died 'ere. Ah, zut alors," he muttered to himself, frustrated at his lack of ability to push away the tears.
Sally paused. "Antoine, it wasn't your responsibility to save everyone. Some of the people just couldn't be saved. It wasn't your fault."
"But I should 'ave, princess, I should 'ave!" he insisted.
He felt angry at himself for snapping at her and fully expected a comeback, but for a few seconds she said nothing and again touched his shoulder, silently supporting him.
"So you think the penguin would have wanted to live?" she eventually asked quietly.
Ah, the penguin. That poor woman... Antoine found himself nodding agreement with her point, and part of the guilt evaporated. But there was still some left and, feeling a little happier, he wanted to bring more into the open too. He turned back to the tent interior.
"Look, princess," he said quietly into her ear, so that nobody else would hear. "Rotor 'as put so many wishings into ze survival of Scallion. I want 'er to live, but..." he had to take a gulp of air before he told the terrible truth. "...but she is going to die. Very soon." As he spoke, he saw Rotor watch the turtle's face intently. He held the turtle's hand. Scallion had closed her eyes; Antoine wondered whether she was still breathing.
"Oh, Antoine," Sally said, exasperated but sad, "Don't you see?" he looked at her, feeling lost. "You've given an old lady a gift she never thought she'd have. You've allowed her to die in a warm, soft bed, away from Robotnik and everything he wanted to do to her. Look at her, Antoine: she's got a friend. She's going to die surrounded by love."
And, despite the nagging feeling he should somehow make Scallion survive, Antoine could only agree. Wiping away fresh tears, he was half aware of Rotor getting up and walking wretchedly out of the tent.
THE END.
