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Apr 12

Little Town Tails

Chapter 9: A Crow on the Thatch

Summary: The undesirable visitor is back in Heawick with a vengeance, and Halsin must deal with one of the most difficult aspects of his job.

Ship/Pairing: Halsin x Fem!Tav

Trope: Modern AU, Meet-cute, Little countryside town, Cosy

Trigger Warnings: Blood, Surgery, Animal Death

Word count: 8,777

Read it on Ao3 here

Listen to the dedicated playlist on Spotify here

The late morning air is still crisp when Halsin crosses the street to find the green and ornate post box near the bakery. Rummaging through his breast pocket, he produces an envelope and reads the address and verifies the stamp three more times to make sure he made no mistake before slipping it through the flap. In just a few days, one of his old friends, Nettie, is going to turn thirty-three, and it pains him to miss her party. So, while he still had enough time to procure one, he bought a birthday card from a local artist who sells her watercolour designs on the Wednesday market. After perusing the stall for an eternity, wondering which design she would like best, he settled on a folded card bearing images of wild birds with the caption ‘Happy Bird-day.’ Nettie has always been particularly fond of birds and has been an avid bird-watcher for a few years now. Halsin even asked to join her one day when he had a moment of freedom and felt adventurous enough to try his hand at something new. While Nettie marvelled at every robin and sparrow, doodling them into her sketchbook, Halsin could not help but admire the ducklings on the nearby pond and photograph them.

Since then, the two of them have kept in touch as regularly as they could, even after he moved away to open Emerald Grove in Heawick. She helped him load his boxes into the lorry until his old flat was empty and clean it just before his old landlord came for the final inspection and to retrieve the keys. When the time came for him to leave his old city behind, they had elongated their goodbyes, both emotional but refraining from crying. And gods, was it difficult not to. They drowned each other in well wishes and encouraging words for their respective futures. Then, Halsin climbed into the driver’s seat and drove away towards his new life, which he had worked so hard for as long as he could remember. With a last wave through the window, he left Waukeen’s Rest and has since not set foot there again.

Heawick has proved much more pleasant to him, even though the other town was also surrounded by nature and greenery all over. The community is much more welcoming and tolerant here, and there has not been a single moment that he has felt like a foreigner or an intruder. Everybody has gone out of their way to include him in conversations or offered him to show him around or introduce him to friends whenever the occasion arises. And even though he does not know every single soul in town, he knows he can count on them and he does his best to let them know that they can count on him in return.

During his break, he takes the opportunity to post Nettie’s birthday card with an invitation for her to visit him whenever she wishes. Since the fresh air carrying the perfume of the first blooms of the season is particularly appealing, he does not wish to return to Emerald Grove right away. He stretches his back and runs a hand through his hair, which he has braided in parts, and looks around. From the corner of his eye, he catches the hanging sign of the butcher’s twitching in the wind, loudly creaking on its rusty hinges. He throws a glance at his watch and sees that he still has some time to spare. Perhaps he could fetch a cup of blood for Astarion before he returns. Maybe the incessant sewing has made the man peckish.

He strolls down the long street and bypasses the little park and its fountain, noticing a bird pecking at the water and shaking its head. Halsin chuckles and carries on, entering the butcher’s shop. The woman behind the counter with her hair in a net is busy chopping pieces of pork for her display, ensuring that they are as regular as possible. When the door taps against the little bell, she looks up with a smile and wipes her hands.

‘Hiya, Halsin,’ she chimes, recognising him. ‘I thought you were a resolute vegetarian?’

Halsin laughs and waves at her, approaching the counter. While he has never visited the shop yet, he has already met the half-orc a few times since the move. The first time was merely in passing on a walk with Scratch. He was strolling along the edge of town when he heard Melly hailing him to introduce him to yet another inhabitant. That was when he understood that should he seek any service or any piece of information in Heawick, Melly knew everyone and all the skills they respectively possessed. She would be the one person who could orient him towards other should he ask to. That is how he met Arfer in the first place, and the second time he spoke to the butcher, it was when the old man was replacing two rotting beams in his attic. He had solicited the woman’s brawn for moving the new ones inside, but she had miscalculated the beam’s centre of gravity and nearly tumbled back. Halsen, who was driving by on his way back from the recycling centre, stopped his car to help her carry the beam upstairs, as well as the next one. They enjoyed a warm cup of tea and a plate of buttered biscuits afterwards, courtesy of Mr. Proudcobble. Since then, the veterinarian and the butcher have greeted each other on the street at every occasion, and they have jogged together with their dogs in tow twice as well.

‘Good morning, Gilsys! Well, I am not coming to buy anything for myself.’

‘Oh? What curious venture brings you to me then? How can I help?’

He pats his pockets and groans. Perhaps it would have been judicious to grab Astarion’s reusable cup before thinking about fetching him some food.

‘I wanted to collect some blood, if you have any in stock,’ he explains, feeling comfortable enough to say it out loud since the shop is empty. ‘That would be for Mr. Dekarios-Ancúnin.’

‘Oh, Rion’s peckish already?’

She laughs and rests her elbows against the glass display, her large muscles glistening under the neon lights. She holds an open hand out expectantly.

‘Got the cup?’

‘I am afraid not. I thought I would spontaneously bring him some as a thank you for his hard work, but I did not think of taking it.’

‘No worries, I’ve got some in the back. He forgets it too sometimes, so I’m prepared.’

‘You are a lifesaver.’

Gilsys guffaws and disappears into the back of the shop to collect everything she needs to complete the order. Meanwhile, Halsin buries his hands in his pockets, looking around with a twinge of unease. He usually steers clear of meat shops and stalls for obvious reasons, the sight always distressing him more than he anticipates every time. Disliking the sight of various animal remains exhibited, he lowers his gaze and tries to ignore the pervading smell washing over him. He focuses on the music playing from the radio and soon finds himself bobbing his head to the rhythm and mumbling approximate lyrics. He does not know the song that well and does not listen to it by himself, but he never minds it when he hears it at the grocer’s or in the car.

‘Pink pony club, duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh at the pink pony club—'

‘Well, well,’ Gilsys chortles, emerging back into the shop with a cup at the ready and a straw, ‘I didn’t take you for a Chappell Roan fan.’

‘Oh, I am not, but it is a fun song.’

The butcher places the cup on a stable surface and Halsin pulls out his bear-shaped coin purse, handing her the right amount.

‘Keep the change. Thank you for the cup and the service, also for helping Astarion with his sustenance.’

‘Eh, no sweat. By the way, I should get an intern from a school in the city soon, I could have them deliver the blood to the practice every day for Rion?’

‘Ah, that would be lovely, but he will not be working at the practice for long.’

‘If he’s still working with you at least until June, that shouldn’t be a problem.’

Halsin smiles at the young woman and picks up the full cup, careful not to spill its contents and reveal to the world the curious cargo he carries.

‘Well, perhaps you can discuss that with him next time he visits,’ he says. ‘I am willing to pay for the service myself.’

‘I’ll ask him. You have yourself a nice day, doc!’

‘You, too!’

They wave at each other and he leaves the shop. As soon as he steps out, a loud clanking noise draws his attention to two transit vans blocking the larger streets on his left. He sees three men entering the back, while a fourth and a fifth climb onto the vehicles to place extend their ladders against the nearby walls. Halsin observes them for a moment, eager to see them take out the banners for the upcoming Spring festival. Lately, it is all some inhabitants have been chatting about. It seems that the festivities hold quite some significance to the locals. Some have designated it as the event of the year for the area, claiming that Yule and some other equinoxes pale in comparison to this one festival.

Halsin is hesitant to participate. While joining a celebration of nature and its never-ending cycle would warm his heart any time, the notion of a crowded town does not sound too appealing. Karlach once mentioned that, due to its larger size, Heawick is always chosen as the open-air venue for the party, and most citizens from other nearby villages and towns come to celebrate. Those from Combury, Leafcombe, Fairham, and Witbury-on-the-Brook, at the very least. But masses have always made the veterinarian uncomfortable, and that was already the case in the city. Crowds and bustling streets deter and suffocate him. He is rather easy-going and sociable, but the crushing sensation of being constantly surrounded and not being to move freely makes him withdraw from others. He is not the best company in such moments, he fears, and he does not want to hinder his fellow party-goers and their enthusiasm by isolating himself and keeping quiet.

On the other hand, it will be his first Spring festival in Heawick. Since he is planning to live here indefinitely, he has got many more years to ignore the overwhelming activity and commotion. There is no better opportunity to experience an event than the first encounter, without bias and without prior nuisance. Who knows? He might very much enjoy himself after all. If he finds friends or acquaintances among the congregation, his time there will be all the sweeter. But he has not decided yet.

Once the workers have successfully hung one side of the banner up, Halsin sniffs, the tip of his nose getting cold, and turns on his heel to head back to the practice. Birdsong rises above his head as three little birds land on a branch of the nearby plant tree. He tilts his head back to listen and watch with glee, the corners of his lips rising. As one pecks at the feathers underneath its wing, displaying its colours more openly, the veterinarian squints and thinks of Nettie. Yellow and white belly, one black stripe. White head with a blue cap and black lines crossing the eyes to reach the sides of the head, then dipping along the throat to the beak. A Blue Tit, no doubt.

He slowly reaches for his phone, nestled in his pocket, to snap a photograph to send his friend. But some ruckus in the perpendicular street scare the birds away. Although disappointed, Halsin thinks nothing of it at first. That is simply the way of things, even a car or a bicycle could have unconsciously chased them.

But then, there are screams.

Alarmed by a pair of raised voices, Halsin tucks the cup securely against his chest and darts towards the source of the noise. At the corner of the street, the muffled shouts become more discernible. A woman’s voice and that of a man are engaged in quite a heated exchange inside one of the shops on his right. Some neighbours are already poking their heads out of the windows to investigate the situation.

Before he can cross the road, the door of the florist flies open and slams against the brick wall. The impact sends a shockwave through the wood, making it tremble on its hinges for a few seconds. At the same instant, Jaheira appears, her face distorted by rage. Her fist is closed around a man’s collar, dragging him behind her and forcing him to trip and stumble on the doormat and doorstep. With a strength even Halsin would recoil from were he at the receiving end of it, she throws the man out of her shop. Losing his balance, he nearly falls onto the road but catches himself at the lamppost. Halsin rushes to the other side of the road to mediate the dispute and prevent further escalation.

The man, clad in black with a crow embroidered on a silver sun in his back, straightens up and pats the dust off of his clothes. With every motion, the silver and golden rings on his fingers clink against one another. It is only when he lifts his head with a groan that Halsin identifies him.

Enver Gortash.

He does not have the time to wallow in his stupor. Jaheira tosses a small card at Gortash’s face.

‘Don’t you dare show your face in my shop ever again,’ she hisses. ‘Cross my doorstep, and I’ll make sure that your mother won’t recognise you.’

Gortash inflates his chest and approaches the older woman with a smug grin, his heels stomping firmly on the pavement. Halsin has never seen Jaheira angry in all the time he has known her, but he knows that the businessman is taunting a dormant devil by sporting such an arrogant demeanour. A misplaced one at that.

‘My good woman, just you wait. Ponder my offer,’ he says, picking up the forsaken card and holding it out to her between two fingers, ‘and contact me then. Trust me, you’d better accept. Such a golden opportunity won’t come your way twice. You’ll want to have a say before it’s too late.’

She scoffs and crosses her arms, the veins in her temples twitching.

‘Are you threatening me?!’

Halsin winces. He is ready to separate them.

‘No,’ Gortash smirks. ‘I am warning you. Soon, you might no longer have a choice.’

The tension is palpable. The two stare at each other in mutual defiance, their minds undoubtedly turning over the situation Halsin is blissfully unaware of so far. Gortash pulls up his sleeve to glance at his watch.

‘I’m giving you until Wednesday to decide,’ he declares, all signs of amusement, however faint, melting off his hardening traits. ‘No later than five in the afternoon. Think carefully.’

At once, Jaheira hawks and spits in his face. The spray is forceful enough that Halsin shuffles aside to avoid stray splashes. Gortash is about to protest when she vigorously points a finger towards her right.

‘I will only say this once. Get out of my town. SCRAM!’

The businessman produces an embroidered handkerchief with his initials on it and wipes the phlegm off his face with a groan.

‘You disgusting old crone! Fucking crazy bitch!’

He turns away but still glares over his shoulder, seething.

‘Consider my offer rescinded. You will regret this.’

‘Don’t you show your face around here again.’

‘Oh, I’ll be back alright. You haven’t seen the last of me yet.’

Without elaborating further, Gortash stomps away, straightening his coat, the crow on his back scintillating under one of the rare sun rays of the day. Once he turns the corner, hopefully to retrieve his car and leave, Jaheira clears her throat and pulls down her sleeves.

‘Hello, Halsin. All is well with you, I hope?’

The veterinarian raises an eyebrow.

‘What in the hells happened between you and Gortash?’

She waves a dismissive hand and spins around to return to her shop, picking up the business card from the ground to tear it into pieces. He follows with a hesitant gait, unwilling to irritate her further with his mere presence. Careful not to attract unwanted attention, he shuts the door behind him but keeps a hand on the handle, should she ask him to vacate the premises as well.

‘Jaheira, are you all right?’ he whispers when she comes to a halt in the middle of the shop with a deflating sigh.

‘That filthy rat…’

She sighs again and faces him, her freckled nose no longer scrunched up. Yet, the crease between her brows persists. A shadow passes over her muted gold irises as she beholds the flower shop she must have worked hard for over the years. It is her kingdom, moulded solely by her will, so easily defaced and rearranged on a whim. One morning, the roses might be displayed on the left, behind the table of lilies. That same evening, they might be found by the door, the lilies lined up on a shelf on the right, overshadowed by daffodils and greenery. None of the plants are safe from her resolute grasp. Nevertheless, Halsin is witnessing the waning of that fire in her eyes as the seconds float away.

‘I’m doing better than he is, that’s for certain,’ she says at last, rubbing the back of her neck.

‘What did he want with you? Surely his arrival was not the only reason that you lashed out at him, you must have had your reasons.’

Jaheira distracts herself and the obvious concern she is struggling to conceal by fluffing up some leaves and bouquets.

‘He showed up here twice to ask about the shop and whether I intend to sell it,’ she explains, brushing some dirt off of a flower’s stem.

‘He has recently visited the practice with the same question. That is how I know his name, in fact.’

‘This time, he made me an offer. He buys the shop for a generous price, and I get to retire early. And if I’m bored during retirement, I can create flower arrangements to decorate the café he’d open here.’

Halsin shakes his head in offence.

‘What a ridiculous offer,’ he scoffs, uncertain what to even respond to such an outrageous and poisoned suggestion.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll never sell the shop to someone like him, especially if that means being exploited by his kind afterwards. I’d rather die of a heart attack mid-sex, at least that’d be pleasurable.’

He laughs, but the mere idea that the offer has been on the table at all raises quite a few concerns. If Gortash successfully buys even one of the independent shops in Heawick, others might collapse afterwards. The town prides itself on its independent and locally-owned businesses, but the opening of a chain might attract more visitors from the area. The brand would be a luxury normally exclusive to the city, meaning that the rent will skyrocket. Within a few months, half of the town would have to close down, lacking the funds to survive the gentrification. Even his practice would be one of the first to fall, no matter how dire the need for a veterinarian in the region might be. Business moguls like Gortash care so very little for it. He would be the only one enriched—the shopkeepers would abruptly lose their livelihoods.

‘It is quite alarming,’ he says pensively, perhaps more to himself than as a reaction to Jaheira’s version of the story. ‘Do you think he truly meant it? That you will no longer have a say in what happens to your shop?’

‘He might, but he won’t manage. I know he’s been scouting all of Heawick, but everyone I’ve spoken to so far was creeped out by him. Nobody’s agreed to selling to him so far, unless anyone lied, but I doubt it. Think of it this way: offering what he told me is a sign of desperation. We’re all saying no, and he feels the need to take out the big guns to threaten us. It’s his way to cope. Let him throw a tantrum in Baldur’s Gate, where he belongs.’

The veterinarian nods and watches her toss the shreds of Gortash’s business card into her bin. He stares at it for a moment, hoping that he will never see him again. Perhaps Jaheira’s rebellion against his perusing and treating the town like a mere plot of land to buy scared him off for good. But the man seems determined, and that does not ease Halsin’s worries. But for now, there is little he and the woman can do. As long as nothing is official, they can only carry on with their lives and pretend that they have never interacted with him. That will be better for everyone’s sanity.

But still, Halsin has this gut feeling that something terrible is coming, one that he can neither reason with nor wish away. Only one person in this town knows enough about everyone to analyse the situation with a clear head. Melly. And he swears to himself that he will talk to her later, bringing a bottle of cider to thank her for all the free pastries she has been feeding him over the past weeks. That is the least he can do.

‘I must return to Emerald Grove, but will you be fine?’ he inquires, eyeing the older woman who is now frantically swiping soil off the tables.

‘Yes, yes. I’ll just sulk for a little bit and I’ll be right as rain.’

‘Very well. If you need anything, you know where to find me.’

Jaheira nods and picks her head up, interrupting her manic urge to clean.

‘And hey, Halsin?’

His palm is already pressed down onto the door handle, but the mention of his name stops him in his tracks. He turns to meet her eye and perceives a hint of unusual vulnerability passing in it.

‘Mh?’

‘Thank you. For talking to me and mostly for standing by in case things got out of hand. I did notice.’

‘Of course.’

‘I mean it. I’m not often angry, but when I am I can be ruthless and I go too far. Having you there made me hold back and stay out of trouble.’

‘You nearly tossed him under a car, though,’ he teases.

‘Oh, shut it,’ she responds with a smirk, looking down. ‘Alright, now, off with you, or I’ll drag you to the practice myself.’

‘Bye, Jaheira.’

She merely waves at him, but he can tell that a weight has been lifted off her shoulders. He feels less guilty for leaving. Glancing at the time, he gasps and rushes back to Emerald Grove, shouldering his way in. Karlach smiles at him, momentarily distracted from updating a patient’s file from earlier this morning, and he makes his way upstairs. The house is awfully still, if not for the occasional hum and rustle of fabrics he can hear coming from the guest room. He knocks on the door and opens it just enough to peer inside.

At the desk, Astarion is tracing the shape of a paper pattern onto some teal cotton fabric using a sort of chalk. A measuring ribbon hangs from his neck and a pencil is tucked behind his ear, barely visible under the silver curls. At his wrist is a pin cushion resembling a mushroom, stabbed multiple times by needles and pins with colourful rounded ends. The pale elf is deeply focused on his work, his brow furrowed as he ensures that the tracing is straight and that the fabric has not creased under the chalk.

‘Astarion?’ Halsin whispers, not wanting to startle him.

‘Mh?’

The vampire lifts his head up in surprise and instantly straightens up, as though he has been caught by a parent while doing mischief.

‘Oh, hi, Halsin. What can I do for you?’

Halsin smiles and opens the door a little bit wider to slip inside and hand him the cup.

‘I brought you some blood from the butcher’s.’

Astarion’s eyes widen a little, eyebrows shooting up and wrinkling his forehead—if he could see it, he would hate it.

‘Oh. Well. Thank you.’

‘Everything going well in here? Do you need anything?’

‘No, no, everything’s fine. I’ve made two shirts already and I’m working on the third.’

‘Cat shirts?’

‘Dogs, this time. These have sleeves for the back paws.’

While taking a sip and sighing in relief, the lawyer shows Halsin to the edge of the guest bed to flatten the finished shirts, turning them around to display details. The veterinarian frowns and inspects them, testing the elasticity and the closure system.

‘I never thought of shirts possibly having back sleeves,’ he admits. ‘Excellent initiative, Astarion.’

If blood coursed through his veins, the vampire would have blushed.

‘Why, thank you.’

‘Are you sure I cannot get you anything else? Perhaps you wish to take a break?’

‘First, I want to finish drawing and cutting the pieces. Then I’ll probably take a short walk for my back. As for the rest, no, I… I’m quite content with this setting, truth be told.’

‘I am glad. You know, I am in awe of your work, and I am very happy that you agreed to work here, even though I am aware that you did not have much of a choice. You could have rejected my offer all the same.’

‘Yeah, well… I didn’t expect to last longer than a day or two. But it’s… fun. Strangely. Besides, I like working with Karlach, even if it’s indirectly.’

Halsin smiles and carefully folds the recovery shirts, piling them up onto the side so he can sit on the bed.

‘You two have known each other for a long time, I take it?’

‘About seven years or so?’ Astarion answers between sips. ‘We met in Baldur’s Gate at a party, and even though her overly extroverted personality did put me off at first, I did like her a lot from the start. She’s goofy, I like that. When you’re surrounded by stuck-up lawyers and magistrates, it’s nice to meet unserious people.’

‘I can imagine. She told me that she introduced you to your husband?’

Astarion exhales sharply through his nose.

‘Yeah. We’d known each other a year or so and she told me she met a guy through a friend. She thought he would be perfect for me, even though Gale and I are polar opposites when you look closer.’

‘As long as you two are happy, I do not see why that would mean that you are not compatible. Do they not say that opposites attract?’

‘I suppose. What about you, then? Never married?’

Halsin shrugs, opening his hands.

‘No. Never.’

‘That is a shame. With all due respect, you are a textbook hunk.’

‘Hah. I suppose that being career-oriented for so long has made me oblivious to matters of the heart.’

‘Hardly, now,’ the lawyer smirks, wiggling his eyebrows.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Oh, come on, I understand if you wish to keep it secret from Karlach, she’d shout it from the rooftops, but you can tell me. Your step is lighter, you look happy and giddy some days. And every single time, it’s because that one person’s visiting. The owner of the owlbear?’

The veterinarian flushes red and averts his gaze. Oh, so his silly crush has not gone unnoticed around him. Has he been this obvious? Surely if Astarion, of all people, has taken notice of it, even though he operates hidden from sight, Tav herself must have, too. His stomach drops at the idea and his head begins to spin. She will no longer trust him with Beaky. What if the word gets out? If Gortash does not cause the downfall of Emerald Grove, the knowledge that he became soft for a pet’s owner might.

Astarion pokes his shoulder.

‘Hey, still alive?’

‘Y-Yes,’ Halsin says, shaking his head. ‘You are mistaken about the owner. She does not make me giddy.’

‘Darling, anybody with eyes can see it. That is not a critique, rest assured. You wouldn’t be the first or the last with a crush on a client. Hells, it happened to me earlier in my career. Didn’t last. But that woman seems to like you, so you should ask her out before you end up a wrinkled and lonely old man.’

‘There is no crush, Astarion. Besides, she is married, she has a child, and she is expecting another. It would be awfully inappropriate if I approached her.’

The pale elf chortles with a frown.

‘No? I mean, I’ve seen her walking around Combury with Trith, but I d—'

The door bursts open and Karlach enters, panting and wide-eyed.

‘Doc, we need you downstairs, it’s an emergency. Cat hit by a car.’

Halsin leaps onto his feet and darts downstairs. Even Astarion follows, noisily drinking from his cup despite the running. The veterinarian discards his jacket in the break room, not caring one bit if it falls to the floor. In the lobby, Karlach is waving at somebody out of sight, keeping the door wide open. Although he cannot see it, he can hear a crowd gathering on the pavement, asking what has happened and whether the animal is doing fine. But then, hurried footsteps hit the cobblestone and a man appears into view, carrying a howling cat that is profusely bleeding and struggling in his grasp.

Without prior instruction, Astarion holds the door open to the surgery room, averting his gaze from the severely wounded animal. The man and Halsin rush inside and Karlach follows suit. She places a hand on her friend’s shoulder and whispers something to him that the veterinarian does not pay attention to. The pale elf nods and trots out of the room. The tiefling, on the other hand, instantly disinfects her hands and gets to work. She grabs some sanitising material from one of the shelves and thoroughly sterilises the operation table and the nearby surfaces. Then, she pulls out a drape pack from the closet and ensures that she only touches the corners as to not compromise the centre while covering the table. On a trolley she sets up a tray and opens it, careful not to handle what is inside.

‘Thank you for your precious help, Karlach,’ Halsin says while wrapping up his hair and putting on a surgical mask. ‘You may go.’

‘Do you need anything else from me, Doc?’

‘No, I will be fine. Please return to the front desk and turn away any curious bystander. Nobody without an animal may enter at this time.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Halsin gently extracts the cat from the man’s grasp and places it on the table. He assesses the animal’s state to establish a list of priorities. There is no twisting in the neck, no abnormal curve in the vertebrae. In his struggle, the cat’s head movement appears normal, aside from the pain caused by a deep laceration going from the top of the forehead, down the ear and the side of the neck. Between howls, it heaves and the red clots he finds on the table cover makes his stomach churn. At once, he stands between the man and the cat to block the view and prevent further emotional distress.

‘Please see this gentleman to the break room, Karlach. Allow him to clean himself up and provide him with spare scrubs should he require it,’ he tells his assistant before facing the panicked man. ‘You will be in very good hands, she will stay with you.’

‘Fuck,’ the man blurts out, his head between his bloodied hands as he backs up into the wall. ‘I can’t believe it, a damn hit and run!’

‘Is this your cat?’

‘N-No, thank the gods, no. I think that’s Aslan, the bookseller’s cat?’

‘Thank you for the information. I will confirm it later using the chip. Please follow Karlach, I will do everything I can to save him.’

The man nods and Karlach escorts him out with an arm encircling his shoulders, shutting the door behind them. Left alone with the agonising animal, Halsin takes a deep breath to settle himself and anaesthetises the cat, murmuring reassuring words that it will not hear. While the animal relaxes and ceases to struggle, he dabs at the open wound with a sterile cloth and applies some pressure to stop the bleeding. He cleans the area with a saline solution and examines the extent of the damage, ensuring that there is still enough healthy tissue to suture it properly. Thankfully, the injury has not affected the skull and no major arteries were sectioned in the neck. The limbs are not stiff and respond to stimuli, which brings him great relief. No brainstem lesions.

But a concerning wheeze in its breathing grows ever louder. Halsin puts on his stethoscope and listens to the lung activity and the muffled sounds do nothing to ease his mind. As for the heart rhythm, it is all but regular. He reaches to the side to palpate the abdomen and his heart drops.

At the same moment, Astarion sneaks through the door, keeping it slightly ajar. He is even paler than usual and even from this distance, the veterinarian can tell that his hands are shaking.

‘Halsin, I looked at the agenda and I see that there is an appointment with Clawdia and Mr. Proudcobble in twenty minutes for the skin irritation on the shoulder. What should I do?’

Surprised that the pale elf assumed the responsibility of the reception without his asking, he gives him an appreciative nod.

‘Call Arfer and explains that I must operate urgently on a cat and it will be long. Do not give further details due to privacy. Tell him that I will see him tomorrow first thing in the morning.’

‘But tomorrow is Saturday?’

‘I know. I will open just for him.’

‘Will do.’

When Astarion leaves, Halsin positions the cat on its side and stretches his limbs out to ensure that nothing obstructs the abdomen. He pulls down his X-ray machine and steps back, applying specific settings before activating it.

And even though it merely lasts a second or two, he stands there as though it is taking an eternity. No other thoughts may disturb his mind, or he knows that he might lost his temper. Did he not have such restraint acquired after two decades of practice, he knows that he would move hells and earth to find the culprit. He would prove relentless in his search, wanting nothing but for the driver to face the consequences of their actions. He would not let the matter to rest until the owner of the cat is found and fully informed on all that occurred. Breaking down into tears at the sight of the ailing cat would not be unlike him either.

But he cannot allow himself to consider any of this. He never has. Today is not going to change anything.

He pushes the machine away and produces the images, placing them up against the light board. As he suspected, the poor animal is suffering from a diaphragmatic rupture. Its internal organs have shifted up into the chest cavity, hence the hollow sensation when examining the belly. Fate is even more cruel with the poor animal, since the images also show fractures on the hind legs. Worse even, the pelvis has been shattered from the brutal impact.

Next to him, the cat struggles to breathe. Halsin rushes to it and whispers sweet words, petting the otherwise soft fur. Before he operates, his first instinct it to administer the animal some intravenous fluids to support the straining heart, as well as pain relief. He hurries through the process to prepare for surgery, taking all precautions required, and positions the cat appropriately. To avoid respiratory failure, he gives the cat oxygen and prays that it will not cause further complications. Covering its fragile body with sterile sheets, he locates the ideal entry point for the operation and cuts.

Damn it all, additional hands would make quite the difference.

Wiping his sweaty forehead with the crook of his elbow, he inspects the state of the organs and instantly notices internal bleeding. Hells, it is infuriatingly difficult to trace the source with all the organs that have shifted. Still, he gets his hands dirty and does everything he can to spot the internal wound and seal it. But the more he seeks it, the more it bleeds. He withdraws his hands and brings his lamp closer so that lesions might not escape his sight. With his palm, he presses gauze against the flow in hopes that it might reduce it or, ideally, halt it altogether. But it does not.

‘Come on!’

He gives the cat a shot of vitamin K to facilitate blood-clotting, but that does not help. He wants to revert to a blood transfusion, but without the injury sealed, he fears that it might only delay the inevitable.

Beeps alert him.

Every second becomes dire. He stops the anaesthesia and replaces it with reversing agents meant to eradicate the neuromuscular blockade. He adds some epinephrine into the intravenous catheter. With the laparotomy, he can hardly move the cat to the side to apply proper chest compressions, but should the situation call for it, he might have to take the risk.

Five minutes later, the beeps are still resounding in the room. Ten minutes later, they still do.

Halsin switches off the machines and removes all tubes from the cat, tossing them aside. In swift motions, he takes off his gloves and disposes of them in the right bin. Then, staring at the cat, he steps back until his spine hits the wall and sinks down to the floor. He holds his head in his hands and draws in a long, trembling breath, his bottom lip quivering.

In two decades of practice, he has never found anything eerier and less comforting than a silent operation room. The machines no longer emit any sound, and some heavier ones no longer purr. The squeaking of his soles against the linoleum flooring has ceased, as has the rustling of his sleeves. Although the light is on, it might as well be pitch black. There is no solace to be found in it. If anything, the ability to see makes it all more difficult.

He does not know how long he has been sitting there, sulking. A soft knock on the door does not even pull him out of that state of shock. Karlach pokes her head in, first glancing towards the surgical table, expecting to see him there. But when her eyes find the unresponsive cat, still open, she stifles a sob.

‘Oh, Doc…’

Halsin suddenly fills his lungs with air, as though they were empty this whole time. His hands fall away from his pale face.

‘I tried, Karlach,’ his strangled voice struggles to utter. ‘But it was not enough.’

The tiefling closes the door and approaches him with tears filling her eyes. She crouches in front of him and gently rubs the back of his hand.

‘I know. You always give a hundred percent. Sometimes it’s just… shit.’

They spend another moment of silence in each other’s presence, taking in the situation and allowing themselves to feel. Soon they will need to face the person who brought the cat in, and later the owner. Gods, they have no idea that their beloved pet is gone.

‘Come on, Doc,’ Karlach says firmly while she gives his hand a squeeze. ‘Time to identify the kitty and let the family know.’

Halsin nods and lets the tiefling help him up to his feet. They give each other a knowing nod, and Karlach exits the room to gently break the news to the man, whose name is Wenwrick, she discovered. As for the veterinarian, he walks over to his computer to log in and retrieve his handheld scanner. He returns by the cat’s side and shifts him a little to detect the microchip lodged somewhere between the shoulders. He reads the code displayed on his screen and enters the code on the database. When he finds the cat’s profile, he lets out a loud sigh.

‘Aslan, indeed.’

Biting the inside of his cheek, he gloves up again and grimly marches back to the cat to give its cheek a caress.

‘I am sorry I could not save you, Aslan,’ he intones. ‘Forgive me. It would have pleased me greatly to reunite you with your owner. Let us make you presentable for them, at least, mh?’

Removing the clamps holding the skin open, Halsin pulls up his stool and retrieves the material he needs to stitch the animal up. Humming a lullaby he likes to sing to Scratch when they lounge on the couch together, he steadies his hand and rearranges the organs as to not give the animal the same alarming appearance it had when coming in. He sutures both the wound on the abdomen and the gash on the head, ensuring that the stitches are tight and regular. Even though he did not know that cat, there is nothing but love in every movement of his hands.

A tear drips onto the cold metal and he presses the back of his wrist to his leaking eye. His breath hitches again and he remains still, not wanting his moment of weakness to botch the work. He tucks his face into the crook of his elbow and weeps, preferring to let the emotion out now rather than when Fenli Springgift, the bookseller, arrives. Of course, Aslan is not the first patient he has lost in his career. No matter how long he has been providing care to pets and wild animals, death has never become easier to manage. Sometimes, the only thing he can do is force himself into remembering that he is no god, and that willpower and skill are not the sole factors when it comes to saving lives.

Still, it tears his soul apart.

Pressing his forehead to one of the front paws he holds between his fingers, he murmurs a stifled prayer to Silvanus, begging for the protection of the cat’s soul, wherever he might be sauntering to.

Once the cat is as presentable as can be after the gruesome accident, Halsin rises and fetches one of Astarion’s shirts, selecting one with open books. He dresses the cat in it to conceal the larger scar and places a warm blanket under its body on the table. With one swipe of the hand, he gets rid of the surgical drapes.

Aslan is ready.

The veterinarian takes his mobile phone and searches for the number of the bookshop online. Sitting down by the cat’s side, he dials it and presses the device to his ear, his heart thundering inside his chest.

‘Fable and Quill books, good afternoon, Felin speaking,’ a cheerful voice says.

Halsin closes his eyes and lets his instinct take over. He is not sure he can trust himself now.

‘Good afternoon, Miss Springgift, I am Doctor Silverbough from Emerald Grove veterinary practice in Heawick.’

‘Oh, let me guess, Aslan was seen puking on the side of the road again?’

‘No, Miss. Aslan was brought to us after a neighbour witnessed your cat being involved in a road traffic accident.’

‘Fuck. Oh shit. Is he alright?’

He sinks his teeth into his lower lip. Nettie was always so much better at this kind of conversation.

‘Miss Springgift, are you sitting down, by any chance?’

There is no sound reaching him for at least five whole seconds. Then, he hears crying.

‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’

Tears fill Halsin’s eyes, but he swallows them back.

‘We did all we could to save him, but the severity of his injuries was such that nothing we did proved compatible enough with life. I am very sorry for your loss.’

‘Can… Can I see him?’

‘Of course. I am sitting with him right now and I have already prepared him for viewing so you can say goodbye.’

‘I will be there in ten minutes at most.’

‘Take all the time you need.’

‘See you later.’

Miss Springgift hangs up.

Some time later, he hears voices beyond the door, announcing the arrival of the poor cat’s owner. He stands up and straightens up his clean scrubs, dragging his feet towards the door. He introduces himself to the gnomish woman with tear-drenched cheeks who stands at the reception.

‘My sincerest condolences, Miss Springgift,’ he adds, squeezing her shoulder. ‘Please rest assured that he did not suffer in his last moments.’

She nods slowly, dabbing at her face with a crumpled-up tissue.

‘Please, may I see him?’

‘Naturally,’ he answers, pointing a hand towards the corridor behind Karlach’s desk, ‘but I must warn you that he has a scar on his head, and the sight might prove distressing. For full transparency, there is a much larger scar on his abdomen from the surgery, and I have stitched it shut and I dressed him in a post-surgery shirt so you do not have to be confronted to it. Should you wish to see it for yourself still, I will gladly take it off for you.’

She listens attentively despite her distress and nods again. Once in the room, he lowers the operation table while she approaches it. Within her heartbeat, she buries her face into his fur, bursting into tears and petting her companion. Halsin shuffles closer to the door.

‘I will give you some privacy. Please do not hesitate to call should you feel unwell, or if you have any questions. And, please, take all the time you need.’

With these words, he exits the room again and isolates himself in the break room. Astarion joins him, his light step imperceptible. So much so that Halsin startles when he realises that he is no longer alone. The vampire raises a hand with a wince.

‘Mr. Ravenleaf has left,’ he whispers as to not disturb the veterinarian’s peace. ‘Karlach and I did ask him some questions about what he saw, in case the owner wants to sue the driver.’

‘That is very kind of you. You… You have been of great help today, Astarion. I mean it.’

While the pale elf would usually respond with a quip or an arrogant remark, this time he stands still, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his ruby eyes vacant.

‘I’ve never seen an animal looking that beaten up,’ he admits. ‘It’s… unsettling. I don’t know how you do that every day.’

‘Thankfully, it is not every day that we are confronted with this scenario.’

‘Still. I think the first thing I’ll do when I get home is cuddle Gale’s stupid tressym until she scratches my face raw. As much as we bicker, she and I, I sure don’t want her to ever end up like Aslan. Not even I could take it.’

Halsin lets a faint smile play on his lips.

‘I am sure that your husband would be pleased to know that.’

‘Do not give him the satisfaction.’

About an hour later, Miss Springgift leaves Emerald Grove with a weighty step and an even heavier heart. When she was ready to discuss her options with Halsin, she chose to give Aslan a communal cremation, both for financial reasons and because she remembers her pet as being a particularly social animal. She likes to think that he would appreciate having companions on his last journey and that it is the last gift she could ever give him.

Halsin sends Karlach and Astarion home, deciding to close the practice an hour and a half early. Everyone is much too shaken up to execute their tasks properly. When he has locked the practice, he sits behind his desk to record Aslan’s death in his files and register all the approaches he chose during the failed surgery.

Right as the sun is about to set, Halsin exits Emerald Grove as well, but does not find refuge in his home upstairs. Instead, he lets his feet carry him to the pub. While it is quite unlike him to flirt with alcohol when his spirits are low, this time he does feel the need for distraction. If he stays at home, he will wallow in self-pity and it will do him more harm than good. The presence of other people around him will keep him grounded.

He orders a glass of whisky at the bar and peruses the place for an open seat. Now that all shops are closed, workers and friends are gathering at The Creaky Porch, raising their bottles and pints of ale, or sharing plates of cheese-coated treats. Halsin glances all around him and finds every booth and every chair taken. With a sigh, he pays for his glass and carries it towards the main space, where he leans his back and his head against one of the few wooden pillars.

At once, his thoughts drift back to the poor cat he was not able to save. And he takes a sip.

The beeps from the machine echo in his ears. And he takes a sip.

Fenlin’s weeping feels like an arrow piercing his heart. And he takes a sip.

Shame creeps in when he recalls his moments of helplessness and weakness once the animal ceased to live. And he takes a sip.

Then another.

And another again.

Until his glass is empty.

Suddenly, a tug pries the glass from his grasp and a cold container is placed between his palm and his curled fingers. There is a presence on his right, lingering. His eyes roll lazily to the side and first behold a head of white hair gathered into rows of gathered strands along the top. Jaheira raises an eyebrow at him, her elbow brushing against his. She clinks her foaming bottle of beer against his glass.

‘I heard. Shit day too, huh?’

Much relieved to see a friendly face, he raises his glass.

‘Quite.’

They stand side by side in complete silence, observing the groups of neighbours and people around them gathered around the tables or engaged in conversations while standing up just like they are. But Halsin’s eyes hardly see them.

‘I wish I had done more to save Aslan,’ he blurts out, his eyes stinging again.

‘None of that, Silverbough,’ she scolds him at once, startling him. ‘Listen, I’ve known that cat almost its whole life. It collected all the chronic issues known to vetkind.’

He frowns and listens, though he is aware that nothing she might say will ease his anguish.

‘Aslan was always sick, one way or another,’ Jaheira continues, ‘it was already a miracle that he made it to thirteen in that state.’

‘Was he that old?’

‘He didn’t look it, huh? But his body was long tired. Anything in the world could’ve made him call it quits. What happened in that room doesn’t reflect on your skills as a vet at all, Halsin, and I hope you know that.’

Halsin gulps some of the smoky beverage, wincing at the taste.

‘I do not know what made me believe that I was ready to open the practice,’ he says pensively, watching the amber liquid swirl in his glass. ‘Opening a veterinary practice on my own, what a brilliant idea.’

‘Of course you were ready. You’ve been helping so many patients and everyone is delighted to have you as a caregiver for their pets. What happened today will not change how Heawick perceives you. It just happens. And Aslan’s case? That was just bad luck.’

He sighs and runs a large hand over his face with a sigh.

‘No matter how many times I encounter death, it never becomes easier to face it,’ he says with a shake of his hand.

‘And that is why I could never do it and why I think that doctors and vets are born psychopaths.’

Her quip manages to make him laugh. She grins and gently elbows him in the ribs.

‘And hey. Tonight, we both feel like shit, and this place is noisy. We can also just not say a word. If we sulk, we might as well do it in good company.’

And that is precisely what they do.

Taglist: @emmanuellececchi @reignydays @cakenpiewhyohmy @beardedladyqueen @carmsgarms

#god i havent caught up on any of the fics i was reading in so long aaaaa #Little Town Tails #halsin fanfic #reading list

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