So Long as You're Alright

{February 14th, open to just Lady & Jock for Now}

It had been a few days since the word had reached his ears that Lady had returned from her impromptu visit to the outlands. The ebony male had been anxious to see her. Speaking with Tramp, Jock had listened in horror to the story of Lady’s trials and tribulations. He’d wanted to chew his ear off but he was so worried he couldn’t handle biting at Tramp then and there. When they finally let him see her he rushed straight to the tent. Ebony paws hit the dirt as hard as he could make them. Tiny legs did not make for fast running. He slid in front of the medical tent and poked his head through the flaps. His ears folded back slightly as he looked in the darkened tent for his little Lady.

The tent smelled like a hospital, all sterile and ‘clean.’ The dog’s nose scrunched as he wiggled through. He traversed the beds and moved towards the dripping white candle that was next to Lady’s bed.

Oh there she was. His darling little lady. Gone from his sight she’d ended up like this. Lying on her side and patched up. That bloody queen of the outlands better have had her laugh, the terrier though bitterly. He placed his paws on the side of the bed.

“Um…’ey there lassie…” he whispered, “Are ye…are ye alrigh’ now?” What else was he supposed to say? He hadn’t come with a speech. He’d just come to make sure she was alive.

Lady's chest slowly rose and fell in gentle succession as she lay on the bed. Her legs where tossed to one side, her head resting upon a pillow. While her open eyes indicated that she was not asleep, there seemed to be an air of pure exhaustion that hovered over her. The wounded spaniels head slowly rose as the Scottish terror placed his paws on the side of the bed and brought himself to her side. She couldn't help but let a small tired smile spread over her maw at the welcome presence, before admitimg a soft groan as she moved to roll herself onto her stomach and take a more “ladylike” posture. Slowly pulling one paw to lay across the other before her. Hiding the extent of her wounds. Her long beautiful ears spilling across her shoulders.

The whole of her chest was wrapped tightly in bandages. A nearby blood bag and IV, now standing stored, told the story of how much blood had been lost. She finally was off the IV after a touch and go night monitoring her red blood cell count. Zira's claws had dug in deep, and the tissue damage was horrendous. She would carry that set of scars for the rest of her life. Still, she had been bathed, cleaned, and her fur groomed. Just that simple act doing wonders to both restore the graceful cocker to her former beauty, and work to heal the mental anguish of her journey. What a difference it made to suddenly feel clean of all the dirt and dust of the Outlands. Suddenly to feel normal again.

In a way it felt so strange to be back at the encampment. The whole of her time in the Outlands feeling akin to a dramatic dream. The events beforehand seemingly so far away. The cocker was still not quite used to the idea that somehow she had escaped with her life from what seemed to be an ever increasing nightmare. Even now, a part of her half expected to see Zira walk into the tent.

But the black furred terror was a much welcome alternative. Lady's soft brown eyes were suddenly full of warmth and seemed to glow with a youthful vigor despite her crippled condition.

“Why, oh hello Jock. It's nice to see you once more.” Her voice was low, spoken at a calm even tenor. With just a mere hint of exhaustion. “Yes, I'm quite alright. At least, for now. The doctors said it could have been much worse. And I'm recovering at a brisk pace.”

He shut his eyes tightly as he saw the little girl wrapped like a mummy on the table. His ears lowered softly as he bit his lip. Poor girl. “Ach, lassie,” he purred softly, “My girl. S’nice tae see ye too.” Nice to see you alive, he thought to himself, offering Lady a weary smile. He placed a black paw on the female’s little golden one. A sign of comfort. For her or for him only he would say. Though he may not have known himself.

“Always th’little Lady, aye?” He chuckled, “Ye c’n rest fer now, lassie. Rest and relax. Please. Can ye at least promise me that?” He patted her paw. “Ah but I am glad tae see ye back.” He swallowed a growl.

“Are ye…have ye seen tha’mate o’ yours? Did he even help ye get back?”

Lady lowered her gaze as he slid a scruffy black paw across her dainty counterpart. Much like the Tramp would do, or she would do in turn to him to show their support for one another. She allowed the Scotty to leave it there, choosing to see it as a platonic sign of support no matter what he meant by it. As far back as she could remember there had always been Jock and Trusty. From the days when she cut her teeth on Darling's slipper (and got a newspaper to the rump for it) to the rainy evening when they poked their heads into her doghouse in an attempt to offer a father figure for her unborn pups. To when they saved the Tramp's life from the one way door. She may not have given them the appreciation they deserved, but they were family. As much as Jim Dear and Darling ever could be, and sometimes even more then the Tramp.

She gave a gentel nod of her head in a silent promise to the terror that she would take some rest. She was practicality forced in her current condition. Her furry cheeks blushed slightly when he gave her paw a soft pat. However the cocker had to avert her gaze over the low growl that was aimed at her former mate. (Was former the right term? They were still sorting things out. But he seemed very focused on healing those wounds, and Lady would have been fibbing had she said that she wasn't falling for him all over again.) Her soft brown eyes focused on the flickering candle. Slowly, she slid her paw out from under his.

“He snuck into the Outlands often. Usually in disguise. We met a few time with me behind bars, and he was there to rescue me from death at the border, along with Cash. He brought me home.”

 How she was so grateful to the both of them, and how Cash had been the first to reach her side. As much as she loved the Tramp, a small part of her heart would always belong to that hound dude. Her body erupting in a shiver that caused the heckles on her neck to bristle. Eyes closing in anguish at the memory of those claws digging into her.

“That place. I had never been so frighted. Yet I was never alone. There were others who came to my assistance. Friends.”

Her mind drifted back to Dixie and her pups. Sure, they were little brats, and no doubt the diva dog had her hands full with them. But Lady felt a slight kinship towards the former singing stray. Both had families they were attempting to protect. Dixie had once sheltered Dani, and those scars over her heart were as much for Sasha, Umeme, and Enzo as they were for Annette, Collette, and Danielle. She turned her attention back to the Scotty.

“He really is trying Jock,” A hint of sadness entered her tone, her eyes gaining a wistful somber look. “I want to trust him again. I so do, and for the sake of our family, I shall. But I just...my heart has been broken one too many times. I'm afraid to risk it again.”

He’d heard her say those words before. Frightened. But the pound wasn’t the outlands. He couldn’t even compare the two. Her words were hiked up, sad, terrified. He closed his eyes softly and he gave a heavy sigh. His eyes did jump slightly. “He brought ye home?”

He found that hard to believe but the male reserved his snapping for his nasty letters to Trusty about how horrible a job Tramp was doing as a mate and father. He’d written many…or had someone else write them for him. But still it was the thought that counted.

“Ye had…friends?” He raised an eyebrow. “Truly. I guess that’s alright. Suppose there canno’ be truly evil folks all through out every army.” He shrugged. He stubbornly placed another paw on hers.

“Yuir goin’ tae recover fine, lass,” he offered, “I can be sure o’that…might wanna consider…y’know…goin’ home after…” He let his words trail off.

“Can I get’chye anythin’, lassie?” He asked, “Ah, perhaps I can have Tiana get’chye somethin’ delicious, some gumbo or such. Y’deserve some table meat after all ye’ve gone through.”

Lady lowered her gaze to her own forepaws as the Scottie stubbornly placed his towsled furred paw atop her own delicate digits. On one hand, it was a very warm, fatherly gesture. On the other, it reminded her too much of the Tramp, and that made her slightly uncomfortable. However, she did not pull her paw away this time. Only dropping her head just enough to cause the exhalation of breath from her black nose to ruffle the fur on his paw. Allowing the Scottie to hold his own atop her's.

His comment about returning home resonated within her genteel frame. Home, Marceline, the house on Snob Hill. It felt like it was nothing more then a distant dream, slowly fading into an already tarnished memory. She and the Tramp had discussed it, and even one of her pups, Annette, had brought it up. Oh how she longed to return. To rest her head in the pillows that lined her bed in the kitchen, or lounge atop the armchair in the parlor and not have to worry about what tragedy the war had in store for them next.

This was not their war, it never was their war. At one point it felt as if the right thing to do was insure a swift victory and stop this cold chaos from wreaking havoc across the lands. But times had changed. The world had gone to hell in a hand-basket, with neither army seeming to gain any kind of ground. Lady found that she could care less about Simba, Kula, or whoever else was seeking to claim a throne that seemed meaningless to a housepet. She just wanted her family safe, and she was unsure of how to go about that.

Now that she was on Zira's, the queen of the Outlands no less, personal hit list. It seemed that it was the perfect time to make that call. She and Tramp would have to discuss it. Home seemed a long way away.
"Perhaps, you are right.” The cocker mused. “I'll...have to think it over. It is not quite so simple.”

Thoughts of home and the tough discussions that lay with it were shoved away from her mind when Jock mentioned some nice warm food. Lady looked down at her own chest, her stomach letting out a soft growl at the thought. She was very hungry, not that she was starved in the Outlands, but it had been a long time since she had a truly warm meal. She had gotten used to skinning a fresh kill dumped into her cage. An act that she would never had even considered back home.

Looking up at the terrier, the graceful cocker seemed to lighten up a bit, the ends of her muzzle curling into a kindly smile. “Oh yes, that sounds just lovely Jock. I would just love a good meal. One I don't have to rip the skin off with my own teeth.”

Jock's nose wrinkled. "Rip the...SKIN off'a...lassie! Where've ye been!?" He couldn't believe they'd make someone as soft and gentle and fragile as Lady rip the skin off of meat. Least they could do was skin the meat. Her ears lowered softly as he shook his head. "I'm jus' so glad yuir alrigh' now, lassie," Jock huffed, "Jus'...so glad..."

It would take a matter of minutes before he returned from the small errand. Maybe fifteen minutes or so. After barking up at Tiana, she heated up the gumbo pot and some rice. While he waited he thought softly of his little Laylay, laying on the cot. Safe. Finally she was safe. NOW he had to try and return home with her, Scamp and the girls. Tramp be damned. A man should protect his family at any cost. Yet who had released Lady from the outlands? SHE had herself. Was it simple though? Leaving the pridelands? Going home?

Tiana finished up and gave the gumbo to Jock in a mason jar. She hung the jar around his neck and told him to dish it out into a bowl in the MASH tent so Lady wouldn't be licking the gumbo out of the jar. As he trotted away he gave himself an amused memory of Lady getting her nose stuck in a peanut butter jar. After he and Trusty had grabbed the pup with the jar on her thick muzzle, the boys had returned Lady to Jim Dear and Darling to remove the bothersome jar.

Finally back with Lady, the male hopped up on a nearby chair and dished out the gumbo. Well, pouring in in a nearby clean bowl. He nosed it towards her. "How's that lass?"

A petite paw was brought up to her muzzle to cover the soft chuckle that she couldn't help but emit. Indeed, she had learned very quickly how to pull the meat from the bone with her own teeth. Sure it had taken her a bit of time, and Two Tone's muddled help in showing her how to accomplish the task with some sort of efficiency. But she had done it.

She wasn't as delicate as Jock and Trusty liked to believe. This was a fact she had always known, but having it put to the test over the course of the last month only cemented that in her mind. Of course she had help, Two Tone from within, and the Tramp from outside. Even so, she had only survived, and the task had taken the very energy from her lite canine body, and left her permanently scared with Zira's symbol of misplaced passion.

The very tip of Lady's little pink tongue rolled out and delicately ran along her lips upon the Scottie’s return. The smell of Tia's gumbo filled her section of the infirmary, and brought a warm sensation to her heart. As Jock hopped up on the nearby chair, she found herself shuffling forward slightly, little black nose twitching as the spaniel took in the delectable scent. She backed her head slightly as he nosed a clean bow towards her. Taking the bowl between her two forepaws in order to steady it atop the white linens of the bunk, she lowered her maw into the steam. The vapor ticking her nose and making the tan fur of her muzzle bristle. Lady's eyes closed as that delicate pink tongue lapped at the gumbo. A visible reminder of just who she was. Grace amongst the chaos.

“Oh, it's just lovely Jock,” The spaniel chirped. Licking the sides of her maw and taking as much off the fur as she could. “It reminds me of home.”

Home.

While the Scottie probably did not know it, home had been more then a frequent topic amongst her and the Tramp's conversations. She remembered their talk the night before she had been captured. When She agreed to give their relationship another go. If nothing else for the sake of their offspring. She had spoken of how much she had wanted to just grab all of their pups, scoop them up and place them on the first train back to Marceline. Out of this lion led apocalypse.

Soft brown eyes opened up and looked at the Scottie, before lowering her muzzle back down again. Out of all the pain, the anger, the sorrow, and the horror of this war. There was only one thing she would miss; Tia's cooking. Finishing the bowl, she nudged it back to Jock with one of her forepaws, the nails making a soft click against the ceramic.

“Do you miss it, home that is?” She asked, a little more then wistfully. “All those lovely homes with nice backyards, and our humans who were always there to welcome us home into warm parlors and kitchens. Oh, Jock. How much I would love to go home.”

Of course, while she wouldn't admit it. There was something else she would love to return to. That hillside with the Tramp. Looking out over the hills and mountains. Over a future that was full of hope and promise. Far away from this black hole of a land.