[Note: Alan belongs to Jenny Stead and is used in this story with permission. The song used here is "Frenchman for the Night" by Jimmy Buffett.]
Chapter 6 - The Child
Ratigan's performance was a good one. It was almost believable. Almost. Patchai was no ordinary street-rat. He could see the lies oozing from Ratigan's story as clearly as the slime that infested the sewer entrances.
But Patchai was not about to let his boss see his disbelief. "What do you want me to do about it, boss?" he asked. His voice was shadowed with mocked sympathy.
Ratigan sighed sadly. "For a year now my heart has bled for the loss of those two young ladies. I am sure my dear friend Auburn's heart feels a sharper pain, since the child was his."
"Do you want me to... find another child?" It was a shot in the dark. But luck was with the squirrel. The shot hit a bull's-eye.
"Exactly," Ratigan said, a note of pride in his voice. "Oh, you will make a fine second-in-command some day, Patchai."
The squirrel bowed. "I am honored that you think so, sir. What are my instructions?"
"Lure Auburn to the Rat Trap Saloon. There you will find a very young child. Two years old, I believe he is. Bring them together. My name must, as always, stay out of the dealings."
With another bow, Patchai disappeared to carry out his master's bidding.
**
Auburn soon found himself being ushered into the Rat Trap Saloon with a very insistent Bill. The hyperactive lizard had shown up at Auburn's flat just as Auburn was drifting into sleep. Auburn had been up all night planning big plans, which for him consisted of trying to figure out how he could find a hypnotist to mess with his memories without attracting much attention from the boss. When he found no good solution to that problem, he turned to contemplating the most painless method of suicide. He was debating between freezing and poison when Bill appeared.
Now he was again in the Saloon. Bill was chattering ceaselessly, as usual, but Auburn heard none of it. He was still a little more than half asleep. Bill led him to the table with Tina's picture over it, then left him there and went off chattering something about "really really good beer." Auburn blinked sleepily. On the stage, a young mousette in a midnight-blue cloak was singing to a soothing trumpet background. Auburn leaned against the table, resting his chin in his hands, and listened.
From his driftwood castle
Comes a song I've heard before.
A scratchy gramophone cuts to the bone
"La vie en rose" arpeggios.
So the dream begins
And the song is amplified.
Buy the Beaujolais, on Bastille day
He dances in the tide.
Auburn's eyes began to close. Sleep was taking him over, and he was more than glad to submit. But again he was interrupted. This time it was not by Bill, but by a peculiar scent. A very strong peculiar scent. A scent like roses...and some other flower he couldn't quite name. He opened his eyes and looked around, but could find no probable source for the smell. Meanwhile, the girl continued her song.
Well it takes him back
To the days of love and war
And the girl he knew with eyes of blue
Waiting on the shore.
Auburn felt something tug at his pants leg. He looked down to find a very young child peeking out from under the table, obviously oblivious of Auburn's presence. The child smelled strongly of roses. In the hand that was not clinging to Auburn's pants, the child held a honeysuckle flower that was almost as large as he was and an empty perfume bottle. Auburn smiled, remembering the time Ginger found a bottle of her mother's perfume with a similar result...
If he'd only known
How the years would fly on by
Such a simple crime, he's run out of time
So he reaches for the sky.
But it was not for the sky that Auburn reached. Instead, he reached down and plucked the child from the floor. For a moment, the little one looked frightened. Auburn put him on the table.
"Hello," Auburn said. "What are you doing here?"
The young mouse stared at Auburn with wide eyes. "... I live here."
"Here? In the bar??"
The boy nodded.
"Well what are you going to do with that flower?" Auburn asked. In response, the child thrust it towards Auburn, who was greatly confused by the entire matter.
"You're giving it to me?" Auburn asked. The child nodded again. Auburn took the flower. "Um.... Thank you," he muttered.
"My name's Alan," said the youngster. "I'm a flower." "Oh, is that it?" Auburn chuckled. "Well my name is Auburn. I'm a..." he paused thoughtfully.
"Well, what are you?" Alan asked impatiently.
"I... don't really know," Auburn answered truthfully. Alan stood up on the table and studied his new friend closely. After a moment's contemplation, he announced with authority, "You can be bumbly-bee."
Auburn almost laughed. "What does a bumbly-bee do?" he asked. "Hold th' flower," Alan said. Auburn did. "Now buzz." Auburn raised an eyebrow. "Buzz, buzz," he said hesitantly. Alan shook his head.
"Not like that! Like this! Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, bzzzzzzzzz, bzzzzzzzzzzzz-zzzzzzzz!"
"Oh! Of course." Auburn imitated his young companion. To be even more bumbly-bee-like, he sat cross-legged on the chair and tied his jacked around his neck to look like he had wings. Alan clapped.
"Perfect! Now put yer nose in the flower like bumbly-bees do an' pertend to drink the nectar."
Auburn did exactly as he was told. He put his nose into the flower and took a deep breath. That proved to be a mistake. With a great sneeze, he fell backward off the chair.
The noise brought Matilda Rathouse, wife of the Saloon's owner, rushing to see what had happened. Auburn shook the stars from his eyes and looked up to see her pluck the child from the table, scolding him harshly. "Alan, what are you doing out here? Haven't I told you not to bother my customers? Haven't I?! Come on with you! Foolish child." She muttered an apology to Auburn as she brisked past with a whimpering Alan in her arms.
Auburn dragged himself somewhat painfully to his feet. He glanced in the direction of the woman and child, then looked down at the honeysuckle flower. A smile touched his face, which was marked with the lines of lack of sleep and lingering sorrow. He sighed softly and left the Saloon. Patchai watched with an air of satisfaction. He had completed his task for Ratigan. Yet one more thing remained to be done. He followed Auburn out of the noisy place.
Once they were far enough from the Saloon to avoid being heard, Patchai caught up with Auburn. "Hey!" he called. "Wait!"
Auburn turned around, startled. "What is it?" he growled to the unfamiliar squirrel. Then, as his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized who he was speaking to. "Oh, Patchai. Sorry, I didn't recognize you. What's the boss want?"
"I haven't come on one of the Professor's errands, Auburn," Patchai said quietly. Auburn raised his eyebrows, puzzled by both the information and by the squirrel's tone. There was a note of regret in his voice. "Then... what have you come for?" Auburn asked.
"To warn you."
Auburn tensed visibly. Warnings were not to be taken lightly, especially when given by someone higher in the ranks of the gang. Patchai continued. "Take good care of that child. His life is a gift. It because of you that the Professor spared it. "A life for a life,' he said to me." "What do you mean?" Auburn was becoming suspicious.
"The Professor told me a story... It reeked of lies, and yet I'm sure there was truth in it. He told me of your little girl and a woman who worked in the Saloon."
Auburn winced at the memory. Patchai continued, "Before I go on, you must tell me... Is it true that Argentina's death was accidental? And that Basil of Baker Street kidnapped the little girl?"
"Never!" Tears stung Auburn's eyes, but he forced them back. "Ratigan killed my girl as much as the damn cat did. And Basil saved Ginger, not kidnapped."
Patchai nodded. "I thought as much. Now, my warning. The Professor will be watching you, but he will be watching Alan more closely. You are being tested. If the child grows to be a loyal member of the gang, then you will be spared any further harm. But if the child is not..." The last words tailed into an ominous silence. Patchai shuddered. "I dare not think what will happen then."
"What am I to do?" Auburn asked helplessly.
"Raise a double agent," Patchai said simply. "That is the best I can say. And now I must go." It was only then that Auburn noticed the lumpy bag in the squirrel's paw.
"Where are you going?"
Patchai met Auburn's eyes. "Far away, my friend. Farther than you can imagine."
"And you're not returning?"
"No."
Auburn looked at the floor. He had seen in Patchai's eyes that they had both suffered equally under Ratigan's cruel claws. And now that Patchai was leaving, Auburn felt as if he was loosing a glimmer of hope in the dark surrounding villainy of the lair.
"Do not grieve for the loss of a fool, Auburn." Patchai smiled sadly. "Fools are not worth so many tears." When Auburn did not respond, Patchai put a hand on his shoulder. Auburn looked up and their eyes met for the last time. "You have a son, Auburn. He needs you to guide him away from this place. You did as much for the little girl. Do the same for Alan."
Without another word, he turned and walked quickly into a tunnel. A minute later, even his footsteps were gone. More confused than he could remember ever being, Auburn turned and continued on his way home.
**
Back the his flat on Ivy and Port, Auburn went into Ginger's room. It was the first time he had dared to step into that sacred place since she had run away over a year ago. He stood there, not quite sure what had drawn him into the room in the first place. A fleeting scent of roses brought the echo of a lullaby to his ears. He began to hum the tune softly. As he did, his feet carried him to the side of Ginger's makeshift bed of straw and tobacco ash covered with a discarded rag. Auburn hesitated a moment, then put the honeysuckle flower down on the dusty, unused blanket. Quickly, he turned away, eager to leave the dead room. But at the door he stopped. A strange compulsion seized him.
"Good night, Alan," he whispered.
…end…
Chapter 6 - The Child
Ratigan's performance was a good one. It was almost believable. Almost. Patchai was no ordinary street-rat. He could see the lies oozing from Ratigan's story as clearly as the slime that infested the sewer entrances.
But Patchai was not about to let his boss see his disbelief. "What do you want me to do about it, boss?" he asked. His voice was shadowed with mocked sympathy.
Ratigan sighed sadly. "For a year now my heart has bled for the loss of those two young ladies. I am sure my dear friend Auburn's heart feels a sharper pain, since the child was his."
"Do you want me to... find another child?" It was a shot in the dark. But luck was with the squirrel. The shot hit a bull's-eye.
"Exactly," Ratigan said, a note of pride in his voice. "Oh, you will make a fine second-in-command some day, Patchai."
The squirrel bowed. "I am honored that you think so, sir. What are my instructions?"
"Lure Auburn to the Rat Trap Saloon. There you will find a very young child. Two years old, I believe he is. Bring them together. My name must, as always, stay out of the dealings."
With another bow, Patchai disappeared to carry out his master's bidding.
**
Auburn soon found himself being ushered into the Rat Trap Saloon with a very insistent Bill. The hyperactive lizard had shown up at Auburn's flat just as Auburn was drifting into sleep. Auburn had been up all night planning big plans, which for him consisted of trying to figure out how he could find a hypnotist to mess with his memories without attracting much attention from the boss. When he found no good solution to that problem, he turned to contemplating the most painless method of suicide. He was debating between freezing and poison when Bill appeared.
Now he was again in the Saloon. Bill was chattering ceaselessly, as usual, but Auburn heard none of it. He was still a little more than half asleep. Bill led him to the table with Tina's picture over it, then left him there and went off chattering something about "really really good beer." Auburn blinked sleepily. On the stage, a young mousette in a midnight-blue cloak was singing to a soothing trumpet background. Auburn leaned against the table, resting his chin in his hands, and listened.
From his driftwood castle
Comes a song I've heard before.
A scratchy gramophone cuts to the bone
"La vie en rose" arpeggios.
So the dream begins
And the song is amplified.
Buy the Beaujolais, on Bastille day
He dances in the tide.
Auburn's eyes began to close. Sleep was taking him over, and he was more than glad to submit. But again he was interrupted. This time it was not by Bill, but by a peculiar scent. A very strong peculiar scent. A scent like roses...and some other flower he couldn't quite name. He opened his eyes and looked around, but could find no probable source for the smell. Meanwhile, the girl continued her song.
Well it takes him back
To the days of love and war
And the girl he knew with eyes of blue
Waiting on the shore.
Auburn felt something tug at his pants leg. He looked down to find a very young child peeking out from under the table, obviously oblivious of Auburn's presence. The child smelled strongly of roses. In the hand that was not clinging to Auburn's pants, the child held a honeysuckle flower that was almost as large as he was and an empty perfume bottle. Auburn smiled, remembering the time Ginger found a bottle of her mother's perfume with a similar result...
If he'd only known
How the years would fly on by
Such a simple crime, he's run out of time
So he reaches for the sky.
But it was not for the sky that Auburn reached. Instead, he reached down and plucked the child from the floor. For a moment, the little one looked frightened. Auburn put him on the table.
"Hello," Auburn said. "What are you doing here?"
The young mouse stared at Auburn with wide eyes. "... I live here."
"Here? In the bar??"
The boy nodded.
"Well what are you going to do with that flower?" Auburn asked. In response, the child thrust it towards Auburn, who was greatly confused by the entire matter.
"You're giving it to me?" Auburn asked. The child nodded again. Auburn took the flower. "Um.... Thank you," he muttered.
"My name's Alan," said the youngster. "I'm a flower." "Oh, is that it?" Auburn chuckled. "Well my name is Auburn. I'm a..." he paused thoughtfully.
"Well, what are you?" Alan asked impatiently.
"I... don't really know," Auburn answered truthfully. Alan stood up on the table and studied his new friend closely. After a moment's contemplation, he announced with authority, "You can be bumbly-bee."
Auburn almost laughed. "What does a bumbly-bee do?" he asked. "Hold th' flower," Alan said. Auburn did. "Now buzz." Auburn raised an eyebrow. "Buzz, buzz," he said hesitantly. Alan shook his head.
"Not like that! Like this! Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, bzzzzzzzzz, bzzzzzzzzzzzz-zzzzzzzz!"
"Oh! Of course." Auburn imitated his young companion. To be even more bumbly-bee-like, he sat cross-legged on the chair and tied his jacked around his neck to look like he had wings. Alan clapped.
"Perfect! Now put yer nose in the flower like bumbly-bees do an' pertend to drink the nectar."
Auburn did exactly as he was told. He put his nose into the flower and took a deep breath. That proved to be a mistake. With a great sneeze, he fell backward off the chair.
The noise brought Matilda Rathouse, wife of the Saloon's owner, rushing to see what had happened. Auburn shook the stars from his eyes and looked up to see her pluck the child from the table, scolding him harshly. "Alan, what are you doing out here? Haven't I told you not to bother my customers? Haven't I?! Come on with you! Foolish child." She muttered an apology to Auburn as she brisked past with a whimpering Alan in her arms.
Auburn dragged himself somewhat painfully to his feet. He glanced in the direction of the woman and child, then looked down at the honeysuckle flower. A smile touched his face, which was marked with the lines of lack of sleep and lingering sorrow. He sighed softly and left the Saloon. Patchai watched with an air of satisfaction. He had completed his task for Ratigan. Yet one more thing remained to be done. He followed Auburn out of the noisy place.
Once they were far enough from the Saloon to avoid being heard, Patchai caught up with Auburn. "Hey!" he called. "Wait!"
Auburn turned around, startled. "What is it?" he growled to the unfamiliar squirrel. Then, as his eyes adjusted to the light, he realized who he was speaking to. "Oh, Patchai. Sorry, I didn't recognize you. What's the boss want?"
"I haven't come on one of the Professor's errands, Auburn," Patchai said quietly. Auburn raised his eyebrows, puzzled by both the information and by the squirrel's tone. There was a note of regret in his voice. "Then... what have you come for?" Auburn asked.
"To warn you."
Auburn tensed visibly. Warnings were not to be taken lightly, especially when given by someone higher in the ranks of the gang. Patchai continued. "Take good care of that child. His life is a gift. It because of you that the Professor spared it. "A life for a life,' he said to me." "What do you mean?" Auburn was becoming suspicious.
"The Professor told me a story... It reeked of lies, and yet I'm sure there was truth in it. He told me of your little girl and a woman who worked in the Saloon."
Auburn winced at the memory. Patchai continued, "Before I go on, you must tell me... Is it true that Argentina's death was accidental? And that Basil of Baker Street kidnapped the little girl?"
"Never!" Tears stung Auburn's eyes, but he forced them back. "Ratigan killed my girl as much as the damn cat did. And Basil saved Ginger, not kidnapped."
Patchai nodded. "I thought as much. Now, my warning. The Professor will be watching you, but he will be watching Alan more closely. You are being tested. If the child grows to be a loyal member of the gang, then you will be spared any further harm. But if the child is not..." The last words tailed into an ominous silence. Patchai shuddered. "I dare not think what will happen then."
"What am I to do?" Auburn asked helplessly.
"Raise a double agent," Patchai said simply. "That is the best I can say. And now I must go." It was only then that Auburn noticed the lumpy bag in the squirrel's paw.
"Where are you going?"
Patchai met Auburn's eyes. "Far away, my friend. Farther than you can imagine."
"And you're not returning?"
"No."
Auburn looked at the floor. He had seen in Patchai's eyes that they had both suffered equally under Ratigan's cruel claws. And now that Patchai was leaving, Auburn felt as if he was loosing a glimmer of hope in the dark surrounding villainy of the lair.
"Do not grieve for the loss of a fool, Auburn." Patchai smiled sadly. "Fools are not worth so many tears." When Auburn did not respond, Patchai put a hand on his shoulder. Auburn looked up and their eyes met for the last time. "You have a son, Auburn. He needs you to guide him away from this place. You did as much for the little girl. Do the same for Alan."
Without another word, he turned and walked quickly into a tunnel. A minute later, even his footsteps were gone. More confused than he could remember ever being, Auburn turned and continued on his way home.
**
Back the his flat on Ivy and Port, Auburn went into Ginger's room. It was the first time he had dared to step into that sacred place since she had run away over a year ago. He stood there, not quite sure what had drawn him into the room in the first place. A fleeting scent of roses brought the echo of a lullaby to his ears. He began to hum the tune softly. As he did, his feet carried him to the side of Ginger's makeshift bed of straw and tobacco ash covered with a discarded rag. Auburn hesitated a moment, then put the honeysuckle flower down on the dusty, unused blanket. Quickly, he turned away, eager to leave the dead room. But at the door he stopped. A strange compulsion seized him.
"Good night, Alan," he whispered.
…end…