Chapter Thirty-Three

Gadget woke up thanking God—and Rachel’s mother, Rosie—for the scrubs. They definitely weren’t the original pair. The laundry at the hospital was probably still trying to get Arthur’s blood out of those. Gadget’s new choice of wardrobe had already served her quite well—she was beginning to need the room. It took an extra little stretch to reach across the operating table and help Devin—it was the first time she truly noticed how much her stomach had grown.

It hadn’t been the first time that she’d seen the inside of a chest cavity. Her search and rescue work had seen to that; the few times she’d gotten such a glimpse before, the would-be patient was too far gone for her to make a difference. It had nearly broken her heart more than once, when she and the Rangers hadn’t been able to get injured rescuees back to the City doctors quick enough. So many lives had slipped through her paws—many of them, lives she had shared and loved. Devin had begun, by way of Arthur, to calmly show her how to tighten her grip, so to speak.

It was definitely the first time she had seen a heart go from a cold, still thing—lying on a bed of ice in a Styrofoam cooler—to a pulsing, functional organ in its proper place. The whole operation had appealed to her mechanic side, the side that always marveled at how much better a system tended to work with quality parts. Devin had put his paws on hers and guided her by feel and sight to all of the major connections to and from the old heart as he undid them, and the new heart as he sutured them in—aorta, vena cava, pulmonary arteries—

Gadget already knew more about the inner workings of the heart than she realized, but as they went along, Devin put a name to each. He had a way of making her feel clearer and surer of herself, but didn’t push.

Halfway through the suture-work, sure that she’d like to do more than feel or observe, Devin asked her if she felt confident enough to do some precision stitching—she responded by putting in a line of sutures so even and true that it looked like the artery had been zippered seamlessly into place. He gave her some pointers, but let her finish. Her steady paws, smaller than his own, seemed built for it.

How strange that Arthur’s life had been saved by the opening skirmishes of a war! Cynthia and her Guard had cut their one surviving prisoner into ribbons, and Ages had done all he could to save him for questioning, but it hadn’t been enough. His efforts had turned into a salvage operation, Devin leaping in to help secure the organ.

"Well, that’s another gift from Turner," Gadget had chuckled. "He was the one who led the raid, and gave his own patrol away on purpose." It bothered her a little that any creature would be taken to pieces for spare parts, but bothered her less once Devin had told her the donor was missing one ear. Several of the outsiders were marked in that way, Turner’s work—they’d been some of the band responsible for killing her friends, the Rangers, and for the horrors she had endured herself…

"So, Turner’s chosen them especially for hopeless missions likely to kill them off," Gadget chuckled, half in admiration and half out of nervousness—she was holding something and had run out of places to sew it back in.

Devin called for suction, and to Gadget’s relief she saw where the loose end belonged. "I hope none of them put two and two together—that might be the end of Turner’s lucky streak. That’s right, Gadge, keep up the stitches, just don’t close that off all the way--"

By the time the surgical team had closed up, Devin had Gadget’s mind buzzing and whirling , with a sense of what being a full-fledged doctor could mean. Gadget found few things more exciting than to have her mind in motion with new ideas. She resolved to thank Devin well in private.

The day caught up with her before she was able to make good on the plan. She crashed without eating dinner (Devin chided her gently for it, reminding her that she was eating for two, but she fell asleep and missed his lecture).

Timmy and Tina hadn’t been able to sleep in the cave-house, as the smoke smell and damp from the fire-fighting efforts had made their quarters quite unpleasant—but just as it had been designed to do, Gadget’s inner sanctum had kept out the worst of it. Gadget and Devin would have discovered that they both snored like asthmatic elephants when truly tired, but they were blissfully unconscious all the night through, wrapped as tight in each other’s arms as one of Gadget’s sutures.

This morning, Gadget was stretching and yawning and absolutely ravenous. That her hosts had been forced out of their own home struck her as a pity—but Timmy in particular she missed, not for his cheery upbeat attitude (she chuckled) but for breakfast. Timmy would be making breakfast for Tina, Justin, and his mother this morning, after spending a night sleeping alone (house rules, definitely Justin’s).

Oh, well, she shook her head, its fur in much need of untangling, I flip a mean omelet. She vaguely wondered if fresh eggs were something one could get in Thorn Valley, and what the local bird population thought about it. She’d already sounded Timmy out, and yes, Thorn Valley did have cheese makers, of sorts. He had shuddered when he mentioned them, and advised her against trying their wares, unless she liked nasty surprises. "Practice makes perfect," he’d winced. "Let them practice some more first."

Devin stirred next to Gadget. "Hm. You’re up first? What a surprise. I thought we were going to have to find you a cot at the hospital."

"I suppose I overdid things a bit. What with sorting through the mess at the cliffs with Dr. Ages, and assisting on my first heart transplant—"

Devin blinked sleep out of his eyes, opened one, and narrowed it at her. "You’re go-go-go all the time, Gadget. You can’t do that up until your due date, or you’ll give out and I’ll have to confine you to bed. Doctor’s orders. I don’t think you want it to come to that."

"Just as long as you come visit," Gadget insinuated, smoothing his whiskers back. "Any chance you get."

"You know, if it weren’t for sheer willpower, I’d never get any work done," he pried his other eye open and sighed as he got a better look at her. Now, that’s something to wake up to.

"I can’t even think about work until I get some breakfast," Gadget enthused. "Let’s go raid the mess hall. They have one, don’t they?"

"Firemen, soldiers, and all those who keep watch—no matter where in the world they are, they have a kitchen. Let’s go find it," Devin agreed.

***

Looking like a bona-fide medical team, Devin and Gadget strode out of their sleeping quarters in fresh scrubs. Over his own pair, Devin still wore the frazzled, many-pocketed lab coat—he swore there was no substitute for a few things in his pockets. Gadget liked the hospital clothes better and better—like the pair that wore them, the scrubs were adaptable, quick, practical, but colorful. Rosie had even cut down a few pairs of scrub-pants just to her size. Scuffling through the mess outside their door, though, she feared that they’d have to stop by the hospital for yet another fresh change—the soot and grime from the fire (and the efforts to put it out) seemed to creep up her ankles and trail along with her paws if she happened to touch anything.

To their joint displeasure, someone else was stirring up the ashes.

The pop and singe of a camera flash illuminated one wall of Gadget’s would-be workroom—a light snicker following, courtesy of an uninvited guest with press credentials. "Angela? You again?" Devin gave the grinning rat his best steely, disapproving glare.

The photographer whirled, startled for a second, but settled back as if she belonged. She pulled a twisted piece of metal from the pile of ruined tools she’d been taking pictures of, and scratched her back with it.

"Do Justin and Elizabeth even know you’re down here? You’re a sneak." Gadget sniffed. "What’s more, you’re a pest."

"Just doing my thing. What do you two know?" Angela smirked, picking something out of her fur and rubbing it on the wall. She went back to scratching. "You’ve been here for a few days and you act like you own the place. Ah, found the spot." She tossed her makeshift back-scratcher aside and clambered to her feet, camera at the ready.

"You have no business down here," Devin ignored her, "and we don’t have time to waste on you." Click. Flash. He rubbed his eyes—like the rest of him, they were getting touchy.

"No time for questions? Inquiring minds want to know." Angela’s eyes gleamed with sudden whirling thought as she brought her face up from behind the camera. "So, Devin, I hear your parents are famous thieves."

"This isn’t an interview," Devin growled.

"Says you. Last time the police beat them to a pulp, didn’t they come crawling onto your doorstep, bleeding and whining and carrying on?"

Devin gasped like he’d been kicked in the chest. Angela apparently liked the look, as she snapped another picture. "They nearly died. It’s not news, and it’s not a joke. How dare you?" Gadget grabbed for him as he lunged forward, catching him by the scrubs.

"Me? Dare? What about you? Harboring felons is still a crime, last time I checked." She skittered out of reach as Devin pulled an arm back to swipe at her, then thought better of it.

"Boy, you turn nasty when there’s no one else between you and your victims, don’t you? Muckraking paper-pusher!" Gadget strained to hold Devin back.

"Brainless bimbo," Angela replied, brushing soot off her paws.

"No-talent hack," Gadget grunted.

"Rat-lover!"

"That one’s a compliment, sleazeball." Gadget was holding her own verbally, but Devin was dragging her forward.

"You should be proud of that one. You’ve had so many," Angela hissed. "Or should I say, so many have had you." Gadget’s whiskers drooped. This had gone way past personal. Pleased with another reaction shot, Angela clicked the shutter again, popping the flash. "Oh, yeah, that’s classic."

Devin wriggled free and towered over Angela, who suddenly no longer looked so comfortable. Devin’s paws clenched and opened; he had never felt more like pulverizing someone. He flung his arm around, not to hit her, but to point toward the exit. "Get out! I swear to God I’ll break that camera, or something else that deserves it. Scram!"

In a flash, Angela suddenly lashed out with a backhand blow, catching Devin’s cheek. Three furrows of blood sprang up from his fur in an instant. Just as quick, without his thinking about it, one of his paws shot out and caught half her whiskers in a ferocious grip. She dropped the camera, its flash going off once more as it caught a shot of the ceiling.

"Stop, both of you! Devin, let me see—" Gadget tried to get closer, but Devin wobbled back and forth keeping Angela at a distance.

Angela immediately began raking at his arm, drawing more blood, but he pulled tighter and she dropped to her knees, shrieking and kicking at his shins. "Who’s whining and carrying on now?" Devin asked. "Try that again, and I’ll pull them out by the roots." He shook her a little. Damn, that hurts! Got to get Betadine on that… Not going anywhere, her body twisted up like a corkscrew, Angela seethed but went still. Devin had the upper paw, for now.

"Devin," Gadget finally got a fix on his arm and grabbed it, "let her go. She’ll just leave." She reached up to survey the damage to Devin’s face, but frowned. Three marks, and that little twist at the end—where…

"No one’s ever talked about you that way before, Gadge, not when I had to listen to it. Besides, if you didn’t notice, she just shredded my cheek—"

Gadget had more than noticed. Her eyes went wide as she scanned Angela’s face. Oh God, oh God, she knows me—very, very well—

"Devin," Gadget quavered, clutching her own shoulder. "She’s m-more than a pest."

"You remember?" Angela spoke up, with honest surprise. "Oh well," she chuckled. "It was fun while it lasted." She looked up into Devin’s face and cold-bloodedly flung her head back, leaving him with a paw-full of whiskers. He instinctively grabbed for another hold and got a grip on one of her ears.

It held for a second and then snapped away. Devin fell back at Gadget’s feet and gaped at the ear, a cunning thing shaped from velvet and leather—but a cry of surprise and fear from Gadget shook him back to attention.

Angela, one ear a ragged stump, leapt toward them with a screech, in each paw a ruined tool—blackened by fire, but sharp enough for cutting.

Button images by Keith Elder