Who: Thirteen, Greg House, Angie Wilson-House, various small animals Where: Their backyards When: The afternoon after Thirteen moves in Rating: PG Status: complete.
"Bruce," Angie said with her hands on her hips, "Sit."
The little dalmatian puppy just scratched behind its ears. They'd been at this for ten minutes. Bruce just ignored Angie, who had run out of treats. If she fed him anymore, he might get sick. Not good.
Angie sighed. She tackled the puppy and started to rub it's belly. "Fine. Sitting lessons are over for now."
Bruce's ears perked up and he looked toward the fence. Angie looked too. There was a woman -- young and skinny -- in the other yard. She screamed at the kitten. Ruh-Oh, Angie thought. Where was Bruce's leash?
Oh shit, shit. There was a person over there. Pascha was over there. And another person. But Pascha. Um. Uh. Um. Thirteen's mind started swimming: she buried her face in Thicket's fur again. "Um ... hello?" she called back hesitantly.
"Um ... I - I - I know, I'm - I'm just ... figuring out what to do about it." Twenty-three steps to the gate. Into the ... the next backyard. Which had Bruce, whatever he was (and Pascha) and this strange person (child? under the spell of this Bruce?) and whatever else in it. "What do I do now?" Thirteen wondered out loud. Twenty-three steps and open the gate and -
"B-because I can't. I -" She buried her face in Thicket's fur again: the ferret made a purring, ticking noise and wrapped himself around her neck. "I can't leave the yard. Something might happen. I - I might have left the oven on - had she left the oven on? - I might have - I don't - I don't know - I can't work the gate, I might break it." She honestly hadn't figured she'd need to. It wasn't like she intended on ever leaving through the backyard. She could hear Pascha mewing over the fence, and she took two steps toward the gate and froze in place.
"No, no, no, I'm -" Another step. "I'm -" Okay would be a lie. She was never 'okay'. Not any more. It was wrong to lie to children. "I'm - used to this. I'll be - I'm coming." Another step, and another. She counted them off under her breath until she reached the gate, and then took a moment to rest and try to breathe past the lump in her throat. "Um - uh - do you have a name?" Thicket nuzzled her ear in silent encouragement.
"I -" Bile started to rise in her throat, ahd she gagged, spitting, wincing at the bitter taste flooding her mouth. "I ... I don't want my name any more. So I'm just ... Thirteen." Breathe. Breathe. She lifted the latch; it clinked heavily against the metal, and she shrieked. Breathe.
"I ... I don't like it." She pushed gently on the gate; it swayed on its hinges and she grabbed the frame to steady herself, taking one cautious step out of the backyard. Surprisingly the ground didn't collapse. The gate into the other yard was only three steps away: they were part of the same structure. She pushed the gate to her own yard closed - hopefully she could get it open again and inched toward the mysterious other backyard. "Um. Hello?"
The little dalmatian puppy just scratched behind its ears. They'd been at this for ten minutes. Bruce just ignored Angie, who had run out of treats. If she fed him anymore, he might get sick. Not good.
Angie sighed. She tackled the puppy and started to rub it's belly. "Fine. Sitting lessons are over for now."
Bruce's ears perked up and he looked toward the fence. Angie looked too. There was a woman -- young and skinny -- in the other yard. She screamed at the kitten. Ruh-Oh, Angie thought. Where was Bruce's leash?
"Hello?" Angie called out.
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Pascha was over there.
And another person.
But Pascha.
Um. Uh. Um. Thirteen's mind started swimming: she buried her face in Thicket's fur again.
"Um ... hello?" she called back hesitantly.
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"Be good," she said in her firmest tone. "Don't hurt the kitty."
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"What do I do now?" Thirteen wondered out loud.
Twenty-three steps and open the gate and -
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She could hear Pascha mewing over the fence, and she took two steps toward the gate and froze in place.
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Breathe.
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Breathe.
Breathe.
She lifted the latch; it clinked heavily against the metal, and she shrieked.
Breathe.
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Surprisingly the ground didn't collapse.
The gate into the other yard was only three steps away: they were part of the same structure. She pushed the gate to her own yard closed - hopefully she could get it open again and inched toward the mysterious other backyard. "Um. Hello?"
Reply
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