Chapter Text
What absolute fucking idiot decided a veterinary practice needed to be open seven days a week in a deadbeat town where half the population had farm animals that were eaten as soon as they limped funny. The man on the sign staring right back at her that's who. Somehow he'd managed to get the teeth to shine on paper liked they were made out diamonds. Shame Mr Tillerson couldn't put those magic powers into running a viable business.
Kalida Veterinary Practice: Give me your old dogs, your poor lost strays, your huddled masses of hamsters yearning to breathe free from pain.
Gail Peters had her notice written up before the sign had even gone up. Mr Tillerson had worked on that sign for weeks, trying different shit eating grins and speed reading every major work of literature for a quote to parody. He laughed every morning he came through the door and read that sign, flashed the same pose to Gail and gave her a motivational pep talk to hype her up for the most beautiful, perfect day of work ahead.
The end times couldn't come soon enough. And still, in this whole godforsaken town, to this most godforsaken resident, he was probably the one who she would be sad for if they got hit by a bus. Which was why, on the last day of winter, nine hours into a shift with exactly zero customers, she sat at the front desk, nose deep in a travel guide of New York. She would find her way out of this town one day. Gail plotted out the art galleries she'd visit on her first week in the big city as the sharp ring of the doorbell startled her, book crashing to the floor as she caught her breathe. The demise of Kalida Veterinary Practice has been delayed by one more day. Damn it.
A quick cluster of knocks banged against the front door as a shadowy figure peaked its head around the window, eager to see if there was any life in the building. She couldn't make out any of the strangers details, outdoor lights were a luxury they couldn't afford, but he buzzed with an anxiety that set her on edge. So it was either it was a real emergency or an axe murderer, win win.
"Sorry, hold on one moment" she called out. The figure stilled and disappeared to stand outside the solid door. She unlocked it and there stood a man she'd only seen out of the corner of the eye as she went about town. A man who took up as little space as possible, like a cryptid who disappeared as soon as you turned to focus on him. Now the rain had solidified him into a mess of soaked clothes that tied him to the ground, the hood of his coat drawn forward over as much of his face as possible. He was holding a bundle of towels that seemed to shift slightly.
"Hi. Um, it's Miles right?" He looked shocked that he knew him but nodded once.
"Yes Miss, and I'm sorry to come just before you're closing but..."
Meow.
He looked down, his eyes softened as he bounced the bundle up and down. "I found her just outside the back of the convenience store I work at in one of dumpsters. She was trying to climb out but it looks like a dog or something got a hold of her."
Gail put her arms out to take the cat bundle and he carefully transferred her over. "Thanks Miles, let's bring her to Mr Tillerson."
"Oh thank you, thank you. I thought I hadn't made it in time..." His jaw clenched as he tried to calm his breathing. He looked like he had run a mile but if he came from the SaverMart it must have only taken three minutes top. Huh.
She gave him a reassuring smile and ushered him inside from the cold. The cat turned it's tiny black head to find Miles again and meowed. "I think she likes you."
He blushed, "Oh no, she probably just wants to take another swipe at me. She was pretty feisty. Didn't want to go down without a fight did you sweetheart?"
He pulled his hood down and tilted his face towards her, healed scars lining the side of his visage, skin tight and raised in a scattershot of small wounds. She had heard about him of course, the war hero who left town and mysteriously returned years later, face marred in some way that he never talked about. She couldn't understand why someone would come back after finally escaping. Rumors swirled around the town but he had seemed happy to let the consensus settle on him being in a car accident. No one ever asked for details on something so commonplace.
She felt awkward suddenly, his eyes looked sad, incongruent with his attempt to address the elephant in the room with grace. Gail figured he did this often to make the other person feel comfortable. "Don't worry Miles we'll get her fighting fit as soon as possible and then she can finish the job."
She brought the cat into the vets office and left Miles and Mr Tillerson to wrestle the stray. As she closed the door Miles turned and gave her a small nod in thanks, ducking his head just enough for the flailing paw of the unruly patient to swipe his chin.
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Gail sat back at her desk, book lazily hanging from her hand as it went unread. The clamour of trays and utensils crashed to the floor disturbing her peace, the carcophany only drowned out by the screaming match between the cat and Mr Tillerson. Soft coos eventually calmed the both of them as Miles settled his "little sweetheart" long enough that she could be sedated.
So that was the man everyone had talked about when she first arrived five years ago. He had just left then but that hadn't stopped everyone talking about the pride of the town like he'd single handedly won the war. She couldn't help the twinge of jealousy, even his shadow shone brighter than she did here.
Gail had always wanted to go to New York as soon as she had escaped home. And at twenty two years old she scraped enough money so go all of two towns closer. But hey. She'd gotten further than the last five generations of her family. As small as Kalida was it was still bigger than her hometown of farmsteads and the same two bars selling the same two brands of beer that served as the towns nightlife.
For all of one year she was content enough, she had a small circle of friends, a flat, a stable job as a secretary for the town doctor and the local lakes on her doorstep. Sure there wasn't the Metropolitan but there was a decently stocked library, a drive in theatre and a minor League baseball team the town over that she never missed.
But she hadn't got far enough to escape her past and now she needed out.
And here was the man who had and found the outside world wanting. The all American hero in the all American town with his buttoned up shirt, hazel curled hair and the crucifix shining around his neck. He seemed nice but he'd be just like the rest in the end, and you know what? Good for him. What did she care. A town like this would always bend backwards for people like him.
The door opened and Miles came out with the same damp clothes but fresh towels for the cat as it slept soundly in his arms. Mr Tillerson followed behind, "Okay Miles, we'll see you next week for her check up and make sure she takes these tablets every day. Gail, here's the bill for Miles. Once he's paid you head off and I'll see you tomorrow. Thanks for all your hard work today."
Bullshit, she thought as she hid her book under the desk. But as ever, there was no sarcasm under her bosses overwhelming positivity.
"Have a good evening, sir."
Miles stood in front of the desk with the cash in his hand. His eyes locked in on Gail in a way that made her squirm, studying her throughout her goodbyes. What the fuck's your problem?
Miles eyes grew wide, mouth agape in horror.
Shitshitshitshit had she said that out loud?
"I-I-Im so so sorry I didn't mean to-"
"-No I'm sorry I don't- I don't know where that came from, it's been a long day."
"I deserved it it's okay-"
"No you didn't I-"
They both stopped their apologies just long enough to let the other speak but when neither did the tension disapated and Gail started to laugh. Miles looked startled before visibly relaxing. He still giggled nervously in an attempt to match her reaction, turning his face into his shoulder, hiding his wounded cheek.
"I am sorry," he mumbled. "Don't answer but it was just... I noticed you didn't seem to like your boss very much. Just wondered why and guess my face forgot it was in public. I-I didn't mean to make you u-uncomfortable." He faced her properly again and put the money down on the counter with a barely there "thank you".
Oh wow, someone's more perspective than they look. Blunt too. Huh.
She took the money and handed him the receipt. He took it gratefully and started his retreat when Gail recovered enough to clear her voice. "It's not that I don't like him."
Miles turned his head, his shoulders squared out like he was preparing himself for an onslaught. She stammered as she quickly tried to placate him like the scared animals that came through their door. Her voice mellowed, "he's the kindest man I know, even when I've given him no reason to be... He just makes it harder to leave."
He smiled sadly and nodded like he understood. But there was no way someone like him could. Miles looked like he wanted to say something else but his mouth opened around empty breaths that died in his throat. She let it go. She was tired and she wanted to go home and listen to the baseball.
"Have a good evening Miles. And be careful, black cats are bad luck."
"Bad luck for her but you're good luck for me, aren't you Bobbie?" He raised her up and nuzzled his chin against the top of her head before quickly recoiling. "Ow, got me good didn't you?" He said to himself. Gail saw him suck in his bottom lip to flex his chin to feel out the extent of the cat scratch.
"Come here a sec." He heard rather than saw the desk drawer close as she got up and walked towards him.
And then something weird happened. He froze. Did he think she was going to hit him? No, of course not. He was boyish sure, but he was a good head taller than her and even under his baggy clothes she could see the outline of his biceps. That didn't stop her instinctively slowing her steps to walk quietly as she saw his eyes scrunch close the closer she came.
He swayed just slightly as he fought to keep himself present, hearing Bobbie's weak cries for help and the fear of being shouted at for being a freak all caught up to him as the slam of the desk drawer sent him back to the El Royale. What had she picked up? A gun? Not again- And as quickly as it started to spiral, a soft touch to his chin brought him back around.
"Here, it's just a plaster." She flattened the edges, face close to his to check she had covered it all. No one had come close to touching his face since that dreaded day at the El Royale. She was... Careful with him. He braced himself for her hands to wander up his jaw to satisfy some morbid curiosity for what his scars felt like but instead her hand retracted as soon as the plaster was secure.
"Oh. T-thank you. A-again. Um... G-goodnight, Gail."
He all but ran out of the door leaving her stood alone in the practice. Her gaze followed him as he went out again into the rain, his hood kept down as the rain soaked his hair. Shit Gail, what did you do this time? She would have to make it up to him. The sign of Mr Tillerson stared back at her.
Fuck fuck fuck.