CIII

Eleven's hands rush to grab Henry's bloody arm instinctively.

"Please don't hurt him, he's… He's just a cat." The words escape her before she can even reflect on what she's saying. Henry watches her with a frown and a grimace of pain fixed on his face. Eleven hurries to get up.

"I'm… I'm going to take Poe and… And I'm going to bring you some bandages and… disinfectant… Wait a minute—"

"Eleven," he interrupts, trapping her right wrist with the hand of the arm that hasn't been injured. "It's fine. Stay."

Her lips tremble. Her knees hit the cushion; she's not sure if it's because Henry has pulled her or if her muscles have weakened from the sheer terror she feels.

The young man, however, smiles at her. "I'm not going to do anything to him." Despite his words, Eleven knows she can't hide the concern on her face; Henry, no doubt, notices it, and that's why he adds: "Like you said, he's just a cat. I understand."

Slowly, Eleven turns her face towards the animal; Henry does the same. On the other side of the attic, Poe breathes heavily, his eyes still fixed on the man.

"But this makes it more complicated." He sighs and then looks at her again. "Could I ask you to hold him on your lap? I need him to stay still."

Eleven frowns. "He's… scared."

"Yes, and I understand that maybe he will react, but it is necessary—"

"Why do you want me to hold him?" she questions him.

Henry presses his lips together until they are nothing more than a thin line. "I want to try something…"

"What is it?"

The man looks up at the ceiling, obviously irritated. Eleven, for her part, is not deterred.

"I have my reasons for not telling you. Now, could you please hold the cat?"

"If you don't tell me what you have planned, no."

He looks down suddenly. Eleven sees the suppressed anger in his blue eyes and his twitching expression.

"Is it too much to ask for you to trust me, Eleven?" he questions her between his teeth.

"I trust you," she replies without hesitation. "But… Poe… He's scared and he doesn't know you and… And I… I decided to bring him here, I have to take care of him and…"

And protect him, she thinks. Even from you.

Henry puts a hand against his forehead and closes his eyes; Eleven knows he's trying to compose himself.

"I just need you to have him in your lap. That's all." As she doesn't say anything, Henry offers her another reasoning: "If… Poe trusts you and you trust me, don't you think you could do what I say? I promise not to move him from your lap or touch him," he adds. "Just… Just hold him and… I don't know, pet it, like always. Hold him still."

Suddenly, Eleven is aware of her rigid posture: in a conscious effort, she relaxes her muscles. "… Just that, then?"

"Just that," he confirms.

She thinks about asking him to promise, but stops herself.

For some reason, beneath his impatient and irritated expression, Eleven distinguishes yet another feeling...

Pain.

"Okay," she finally accepts.

As Poe shows no signs of calming down, Henry opts to retreat from the attic until Eleven gets the situation under control.

"I'll be waiting for you to let me know," he informs her before walking down the stairs.

When Eleven finally gets Poe to settle back into her lap—with a lot of patience, promises of affection, and even some tuna she had to fetch from the kitchen—she closes her eyes and, with great care, touches Henry's consciousness.

We are ready.

Not a minute passes before the attic door opens again. Poe's ears twitch slightly, but he doesn't seem inclined to run away at the mere presence of Henry. Calmer now that the cat has settled down, Eleven notices that Henry has cleaned his wounds, probably with water and antiseptic.

"Was it hard?" he asks quietly as he goes to sit in front of her with his legs crossed, being very careful not to scare the feline.

"No… With tuna and some cuddles he calmed down immediately."

Henry smiles slightly at her words. "I see. Well, hold him for me, okay? I don't know how he will react…"

Eleven doesn't have time to ask what he means, exactly, when Henry holds out his hands.

He places them just above Poe's raw wound—that area of his back where the necrosis spreads like an unstoppable blight that sooner or later will end up taking him away—although he does not touch it. Instantly, the animal raises its head and lets out a hiss. And another. And one more…

"Eleven…"

"Got it." Carefully, she scratches under Poe's neck and between his ears, trying to get his attention while Henry…

While Henry does not take his eyes off the wound and moves the fingers of his hands slowly, as if he were making a tremendous effort with them.

"It's okay, cutie," she whispers to the cat, deciding to focus on him instead. "It will pass… It will pass soon." She actually doesn't know if it will, but she hopes that at least the sound of her voice will help calm him down. "It will pass soon and… And I will give you paté, would you like that…?"

Finally, he stops hissing; Eleven notices the shaking in her legs caused by his continuous purring, and she simply knows that this time it is not caused by happiness.

"Baby…" she whispers, fighting her own tears; she hates seeing him suffer. "Baby, it's okay, I'm here, I'm…"

She is unable to continue speaking; her eyes land on Henry's hands, determined to stop him—Poe is obviously in distress because of his closeness and whatever he's doing— when she notices…

When she notices that the wound has decreased considerably in size. She remains silent and focuses on petting the cat—she is afraid to speak, she is afraid to ask Henry and distract him or…

Or start to hope.

"That's it," he announces, at last, after a few minutes.

The wound is no longer visible: Poe's snowy fur looks pristine, without any imperfection. The feline, upon noticing this, breaks free from Eleven's stiff hands with a jump and proceeds to lick himself, something that…

Something the vet had told her he would no longer be able to do.

"Henry…" Eleven mumbles. "Henry—"

He lets out a sigh and puts a hand to his forehead in a gesture of absolute exhaustion.

"You should take him… to the vet," he advises, and his voice sounds breathless. "I... I think... He should have healed, but..."

His gaze seems to go out of focus. Eleven reacts just in time: she lunges forward, sitting next to him, and clumsily wraps her arms around his torso, preventing the upper half of his body from hitting the wooden floor. Carefully, she settles behind him, not letting go, and finally rests his head against her lap.

With great care, Eleven brushes aside the blonde locks that have fallen over his face and wipes away the droplets of sweat that populate his forehead: with his eyes closed, Henry's features, already excessively beautiful, become downright angelic.

"Ah…"

She wipes her tears with her shirt sleeve. She notices that her entire body is shaking due to the absolute happiness she feels.

Like Poe, she thinks. Now… Now I'm purring. Just like him.

She laughs lightly at the thought. Beside her, the cat lets out a meow that is nothing like the sounds of protest or the requests she is used to hearing from him.

No, maybe it's her imagination, but…

But it sounds like gratitude.