Two of a Kind - 7. Chapter 7: The Cure

The sterile white walls of the clinic and the smells of the antiseptic made Bashta wrinkle his nose. He looked over at Cavel and Piscel who both rubbed their noses as well. The place was empty, the silence broken only by their footsteps. The streetlights shining on the blinds covering the windows made them look orange, casting black stripes across the white floor.

"Wow, that's bad," Cavel said with a wince when he took a breath. "Has it always smelled this bad?" he asked Piscel.

"It's the transformation. Your nose is a lot more sensitive now," he answered.

Bashta sneezed and then did it again. He seemed to have some difficulty breathing as soon as they entered the building. Cavel looked at him worriedly, grabbing a handful of tissues off the check in desk they were bypassing. He handed them over to Bashta.

"Are you okay?" he asked after Bashta sneezed explosively again.

Bashta shook his head. "Something in here is bad."

An older man came out of a room at the end of the hall when he heard their voices. He hurried over to them. He stared openly at Cavel, taking in the mating marks, the spots running down the sides of his face and his ears. "I see congratulations are in order," he said, offering Cavel a nod of his head and looking curiously at Bashta. "This is your mate?"

"Yes, he is. Bashta, I would like you to meet Dr. Waddel. He treats the members of our clan when we have a serious injury or illness. He has always proven to be a great friend to us."

Dr. Waddel smiled at him and shook his head, "I do no more than give what I have been given in return." He looked at Bashta. "I was being attacked by a small pack of rogues while hiking in the woods one day and your mate and some of the men of the clan fought them off. They saved my life."

Bashta offered him a smile and then sneezed again. His voice was stuffy as he said, "I'm not surprised. My name is Bashta. I greet you, Dr. Waddel." He sneezed and his ears went flat. "I'm sorry, but is there somewhere else we can go?"

"Something in the air is irritating my mate," Cavel said, his own nose twitching. "He has lived in the open air of the jungle his entire life. The chemicals you use are a bit… strong, anyway...”

"Oh!" Dr. Waddel exclaimed, "Please, come this way. I have a room set up with the equipment you asked. Maintenance recently came through and cleaned, the chemicals are most likely causing the trouble." He ushered them into the room he had come from.

"Dr. Pennelst is a colleague of mine; he should be able to make the antiserum here in the laboratory. It will take a few days though." Dr. Pennelst was walking forward, one hand extended when Cavel growled. He stopped mid-step and started at Cavel with wide eyes.

"A few days!" Cavel roared. Piscel slumped against the wall and Bashta took a few steps back. "What do you mean a few days? Our kitlings could already be dying."

"Producing a proper antiserum normally takes months, Cavel. We’ll be working day and night as it is. You know I would never do anything to risk the lives of the kitlings." Dr. Waddel walked over to where Cavel was pacing in frustration. Bashta stood quietly, giving the very upset alpha some space. Piscel intercepted the doctor before he could get too close. He shook his head when the doctor looked at him.

Cavel continued to mutter as he moved angrily about the small room. One his third circuit Bashta stepped in front of him. Cavel jerked to a stop, his eyes flat and his eyes narrowed. He snarled in anger, his temper holding on by just a thread. "Move!"

"You are not helping anyone this way," Bashta said quietly. Cavel snarled again. He took the last step between them and invaded Bashta’s personal space. He pushed into Bashta’s chest and glared.

"I said, move!"

"No," Bashta said calmly. "The kitlings need this medicine and they can't start making it until you calm down." He held his ground, looking deep into Cavel's eyes. He didn't push back on Cavel’s but didn't move back an inch either. "They need you calm. I need you calm."

Cavel shook his head, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, "Days. They could already be dying. We don't have days."

"You don't know that yet. We haven't seen the kitlings. What we do know is that these men are here to help us and you are losing control. Get it back. Everyone is doing the best they can," he reminded him. Reaching out, Bashta ran his hand down the side of Cavel's face. "I am scared too. I have already lost one clan to this plague, I don’t want to lose this one as well," he said softly.

Cavel's eyes closed and his shoulders relaxed. He reached out and pulled Bashta into his arms roughly, burying his face in his hair. Bashta could feel the tremors in his body but said nothing, rubbing his cheek comfortingly on Cavel's neck, combining their scents. A few long minutes passed as they stood comforting each other. Cavel took a deep breath and lifted his head. Piscel and the doctors avoided looking at his reddened eyes as he spoke quietly.

"I'm sorry, Bashta is right. I'm not being a very good leader. I understand you will work as fast as you can to make a cure for my people. Thank you, Dr. Pennelst; we will be forever grateful if you can save our kitlings."

Dr. Pennelst nodded, "Of course."

"What do we need to do?" Cavel asked.

"If you would just have your mate sit on the table; I have a few questions." Cavel led Bashta over to the paper lined exam table and stood next to him, one hand wrapped around the back of his neck.

The doctor held his pen over a clipboard. "You say you had the same sickness as the young of Cavel's tribe?"

"I didn't get the sores. My mother took me to a special spot to soak in some hot pools to heal an infected wound. Apparently the magic healed the beginnings of the plague as well."

The doctors shared a look and then turned back to look at Bashta, their faces skeptical. Cavel frowned at them. "I know humans don't believe in magic that they can't see and touch, but it is there. There are forces beyond our knowledge: gods, goddesses, avatars, objects of power. How can you treat people who are half animal and not believe in the magic that is inherent in our very nature?"

Dr. Waddel cleared this throat. "It's not so much that we think you are lying." Bashta stiffened and the doctor hurriedly continued, "It’s just that we need to make sure they did have the exact same plague or the antiserum will not work."

Cavel grudgingly nodded, "Alright. A misunderstanding on both our parts." He would not back down further and apologize for castigating the doctors but they were used to Carthera patients. A very touchy lot in general; when one was injured or sick they were much more sensitive, especially if it was a loved one. In this case Cavel's whole clan was at risk; his temper was understandable in the light of the fear of that loss.

"In any event, we have... impeccable assurances that Bashta is indeed the sole surviving victim of this plague."

Dr. Pennelst stared at Cavel for a moment before dropping his eyes before the more dominant man. "Alright. I should be able to draw several vials of your mate's blood today and use that to create a batch of antiserum. Once I have that I can replicate it synthetically and the initial blood dose can be given to the sickest members of your clan."

Cavel winced at the mention of how close some of the kitlings might be to death, but he kept his mouth shut as he nodded. He held Bashta's hand as they rolled over a tray full of vials and a thick needle but kept his gaze locked on the wall as they started preparing. After putting on his gloves, Dr. Pennelst wrapped a strip of plastic around Bashta’s bicep and then prodded at his arm.

"Make a fist and pump it a few times," he instructed. Still pressing on the inside of Bashta's elbow he muttered to himself then reached over for an alcohol swab. The wipe was cold on Bashta's skin as he efficiently cleaned the site. "Okay, ready?" He looked up and smiled at Bashta who was watching intently.

Bashta nodded then looked up at Cavel who shifted his eyes so they were looking at each other. "Just keep looking at me," Cavel said, smiling nervously. "Don't look at it and it will be over soon."

Bashta frowned, "Look at what?" What was going to happen?

"The needle." Cavel shuddered. He looked so anxious Bashta couldn't help but look apprehensively to see what the doctor was doing. He held a small tube in his hand with a small metal spike on the end of it.

"Is that little thing the needle?" he asked, looking from Dr. Pennelst to Cavel.

"Little!" Cavel exclaimed. "It's a spike!"

Piscel laughed from his spot by the door. "Awww, is Cavel afraid of a little needle?" Cavel just glared at him.

"Yes, this is the needle," the doctor said with a smile. "I'll put this in your arm and attach the vials. The blood flows from a hole in the needle into the vial. It's really not more than a pinch. Ready?"

Bashta looked from the doctor to Cavel. He shook his head, it didn't look that bad. "Yeah, go ahead."

Cavel focused on the wall again as the doctor smoothly inserted the needle into Bashta's arm. He jumped a little but then watched in fascination as bright blood began flowing into the vial. The doctor moved very fast as he switched vials, putting the filled one down on the small table next to them. Bashta could easily smell the tang of the fluid and licked his lips. His nose quivered as his stomach growled. Dr. Pennelst looked startled and flinched, jabbing the needle a bit deeper in Bashta's arm.

"Ow!" Bashta complained. Cavel's head turned and glared at the doctor, hissing as he bared his sharp teeth. He couldn’t control his reaction to the pain the man inflicted on his mate, their bond too new for him to be comfortable with anyone else touching him, much less hurting him. Hurriedly pulling out the needle and pushing the cap up, he stepped away. Cavel shifted, glaring at the doctor threateningly with his teeth bared. Bashta shushed him. "It was an accident."

He lifted up his arm to turn Cavel's face to look at him and away from the doctor. "Calm down. It didn't hurt that much." Cavel's nose quivered at the smell of blood from the small wound. He cradled Bashta's arm to him, pulling the elastic band off and then lowering his head to gently lick the small spot with delicate swipes of his tongue. Bashta sighed and Cavel moved up to nuzzle their cheeks together.

"I'm sorry. I'm a mess tonight," he whispered. Bashta nuzzled him back.

"It’s okay, I am too. Will you please take me home?"

The doctors were polite but glad to see them go. Three full grown Carthera Jaguars were intimidating under the best of circumstances, which these were not. Cavel ushered Bashta out of the room and Piscel made more apologies to the doctors. Dr. Pennelst was already gathering up the vials into a portable refrigerated container to take to his lab; he was anxious to begin working.

"Let's get something to eat before we fly home," Cavel said. Piscel slid behind the wheel of the car and started driving. They went through a drive-thru and picked up some burgers. Bashta watched in wonder and his eyes went wide as he took his first bite. He chewed thoughtfully, rolling the food in his mouth.

"Interesting," he said. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not but it was hot and filling. The first thing he thought was that maybe he shouldn’t have finished the third burger when he saw what they were going to be getting into to get to Cavel's home.

"What is that?"

"A plane." Bashta stood frozen in shock.

Piscel was locking up the car as Cavel went to check on the plane and he caught sight of Bashta's white face as soon as he got back. "This is a lot different from the commercial flight," he explained. "We can see all around us and Cavel will be flying. I know I trust him a lot more than any human pilot."

Bashta nodded weakly but he still shook as he got in the small plane and Cavel buckled him in. His hands were clenched in his lap as they taxied over to the short runway. His eyes were wide as they took off, engines roaring as they sped down the runway and then pulled into the air. Cavel rumbled at him, trying to soothe his fear as the scent filled the small space.

"I'm really a very good pilot," Cavel assured him. Bashta took a few very shuddery breaths and then forced himself to relax back into his seat. He had come this far and Cavel had been with him, protecting him the whole time. He wouldn't stop now. He was able to control his fear but he didn't manage to enjoy the view of the mountains as they approached them. 'Next time,' he promised himself. Landing saw him clenching his hands together with his eyes shut but he managed not to panic.

They bumped up and down a few times and then slowly drifted to a stop. Cavel smiled as Bashta carefully opened his eyes. His mouth widened into an o of shock as he took in the surroundings. The city had been loud and smelly, overwhelming his senses. He had shuddered at the thought of living surrounded by all of that day after day but knew he didn't have a choice. But this, this was very different.

The airport sat at the edge of a small town, one and two story buildings just visible in the distance. Beyond them were mountains jutting up from the landscape, their peaks covered in white. There were trees all around, tall but with spikes instead of broad leaves like he was used to. When they finally got out of the airplane he stood there, taking deep breaths. Beyond the smell of the metal and the fuel was a fresh clean scent born on a cool wind. He shivered a little, glad to have the pants and shirt for the first time. It felt much more exposed than he was used to but compared to the first city he saw it was a virtual paradise. He smiled in relief.

Cavel came behind him and wrapped him up in his arms. He rested his head on Bashta's. "Like it?" Cavel asked casually. Bashta could feel his anxiety through their bond, he nodded.

"Very much."

A broad grin broke across Cavel's face and he gave Bashta a tight squeeze and a nuzzle with his cheek. "Good. I want you to like our home. The others should have made it back just a little bit ago. Let's go see the rest of the clan." He trembled a little at the thought and Bashta brought his arms up and held Cavel's against his body.

"I won't leave you," he said. This time it was Cavel who needed the help. Bashta would support his mate as he had supported him.

After shoving the chocks in place, Piscel joined them. They left the airplane hangar and walked over to a jeep parked to one side in a small lot. Cavel pulled a key from its hidden spot under the back bumper and they all got inside. He took a breath and then started the engine, making sure to put the windows down so Bashta would feel less confined. The sun was just coming up as they left the airport, heading for the small town a few miles away. His clan was waiting.

***

The tear stained faces of the men they had sent ahead were not a good sign when Cavel stopped the car. They had a large community building in the center of their small town. Surrounding the building were what looked like most of the town resident's cars. Cavel could feel nausea growing, a heavy feeling settling in his uneasy stomach. It was early, the cool air filled with the scent of the dew on the grass of the playground. An empty playground, not unusual at this hour of the day but the empty swings made him shudder in fear.

He jingled the keys nervously in his hand when he got out of the jeep and walked around to meet Bashta. Grabbing his hand for support Cavel led him to toward the growing group of men and women. Bashta squeezed his hand to remind him that he was no longer alone.

"My lord." A woman pushed to the front of the crowd, their expectant faces full of hope. "Do you bring the medicine Saulle told us about?"

Cavel bit his lip but he kept his head up as he answered. "No."

"You lied to us?" she cried.

There were cries of despair as voices were raised in disbelief and fear. So many people were talking that Cavel couldn't understand any of them. He could smell the sickness in the air. Many of the people in the crowd were parents and their faces were marked by grief and anxiety. Many were much thinner than when he left, their hair messy and clothes wrinkled. He was frozen, his feelings of inadequacy swamping him.

"Stop!" Piscel shouted. "Calm down!"

The sight of the younger man shouting at everyone was rare enough to quiet the crowd. They stared at the three men. Bashta was huddled a bit behind Cavel, eyeing the people warily. He had heard some of the comments and they did not seem very friendly toward him, especially as people vented their frustration.

"Let Cavel speak!"

The people’s stares and quiet rumbles of anger were directed at the pair of men standing next to Piscel but they remained quiet for the most part. Bashta was shaking and clutching at Cavel's hand at the renewed attention, bringing Cavel out of his frozen panic. He squeezed Bashta's hand and pulled him to his side, putting his arm around him.

"There is going to be a cure," he said first, "but I didn't know it would take several days to create. I was so eager to bring this miracle to our clan, the one we needed so badly, that I didn't wait to talk to the doctor about how long it would take. If they don't make sure they have the right antiserum our kitlings wouldn't be cured and it would take precious time from producing what they really need.

"Dr. Waddel and Dr. Pennelst promised to work around the clock until they have what we need. I plan to send a man back with the small plane so that they can bring the very first viable antiserum to the kitlings as soon as possible." Cavel looked over at Bashta and smiled tenderly. "None of this would be possible without this man, my mate, Bashta."

"A mate?"

"A male? How did you become mated?"

"Where is his clan? Did they survive this plague?"

Voices were calling out, speaking over each other. Bashta looked from face to face, not knowing what to say. He wanted nothing more than to cower behind Cavel or run away but he would not give in to the cowardly urges. He was mate to the Alpha, his equal in all things. It was time he started acting like it. Stiffening his spine, Bashta stood firm before the crowd.

"My people are all dead!" he said in a loud voice, cutting across the babble of voices. "They had this same plague but no help came for them."

Silence and then a few cries of fear and sobs could be heard from some of the mothers. The faces of the crowd were white and stricken as Bashta continued.

"We did not have this science you have, this ability to make medicine from a person's blood. When my mother and I returned from the Temple it was too late. My father lay dying under a tree around the edges of our home. He had been carving plague warnings into them to keep the jungle people away. His dying act was to order my mother to take me away. He died a solitary death, left to rot in the jungle alone under that tree. My mother slowly went wild from the loss of her mate, leaving me alone in the jungle to protect the Temple." Pain laced Bashta's voice as he told the sad tale of his clan's fate. Tears filled more than one pair of eyes as they listened to him.

Cavel put his arm around Bashta and pulled him against his chest. He rubbed his back to comfort him. "Bashta led us there and when he found out that his blood was the cure he didn't hesitate to come with us, into a world vastly different from the one he has always known. His blood, as the sole survivor of the plague, is what will cure the kitlings. That he is my mate is a blessing I never anticipated."

"Will this medicine really cure our kitlings?" The same woman who had spoken for the group spoke up again. "Some of them are really sick."

"The Jaguar himself said that this would work. We just have to have patience."

"Patience won't make it easier for my daughter to breathe!" A shrill voice rose from the back of the crowd. A small woman with yellow hair twisted messily at the nape of her neck pushed her way to the front of the crowd. Creased pants and a stained t-shirt were evidence to the long hours she had suffered with her child. Several other parents of the sickest kitlings murmured in support. "Nothing we do helps them."

"I have brought things from my home, herbs and medicines, things that my clan used to help during times of illness."

The woman looked at him with her arms across her chest, "You said they died!"

"These herbs won't cure the kitlings, no. But they could help them breathe easier, rest more comfortably, until the men Cavel took me to can work their magic. I am part of this clan now, though we don't know each other yet. I would do anything I could to help protect the innocent. I would never want what happened to my birth clan to be suffered by any of you."

He squeezed Cavel's hand and then moved out from under his arm. He carefully walked over to the blond mother who stood in front of the watching clan. He held out his hand to her, his shared concern and understanding for her fear and anger shone from his eyes.

"Please let me help your child."