True to the doctor’s word, I was taken care of.

I don’t remember much beyond occasional moments of semi consciousness over the course of four days. When I woke up on the fifth day, Baxter and Tiara were in the room waiting for me. Baxter was dressed in his combat armor and power greaves, with an assault rifle slung over his shoulder; Tiara was dressed for business in her standard field operations uniform. I was instructed by the attending nurse to consume the three protein cubes, and the cup of gelatin she gave me along with several glasses of water. The small chunks of actual fruit in the gelatin did not make the price tag worth the trip, though they were delicious.

I found myself thinking about how great it was to actually be in a Mantle hospital, given the quality of the food and the attention from the staff. The thought did cross my mind to hope that since my bills were paid anyway, I could stay another one to two days and enjoy the free meals, while Tiara took care of Baxter. Instead the nurse shifted from attentive and concerned to ambivalent. She adjusted my bed, and insisted I get up and move.

I felt dehydrated, hungry and groggy. My skin felt hot where my grafts had taken, and my muscles were sore. It took me a few tries to get into my own clothing. The nurse assured me that it would pass, and I was only experiencing the after effects of being bedridden for four days. She did not have answers for the absolutely annoying itch I had in my mid back.

“Don, do you need me to take you home?” Tiara looked concerned as I stumbled around like an oaf trying to figure out which foot goes into which shoe.

“Nah… Nah yous go work, I gots Backsder.” I spoke groggily.

I could think just fine, it was however, taking longer than I would have appreciated to get my motor skills and speech up to par. Baxter shrugged as Tiara gave him a look.

Returning her attention to me she insisted, “No, you look like shit right now Don. You know that Dogmen have to have proper, “capable” handlers while out in the streets of the Mantle. I am going to walk you at least to the hospital entrance. We will see how you do then.”

I tried to protest, and she cut me off before helping me to finish getting dressed. The nurse gave me one last glass of water before we left the room.

The hospital was pretty large. The Rails level hospitals I was used to were typically far smaller, yet greater in number. We had to travel through several corridors, all of which were well lit, and marked with several colored arrows along the walls and floor. Tiara led Baxter via his leash, and Baxter led me via his shouldered support.

Tiara insisted that we take the stairs, telling me that I needed to “Walk it off” despite my grumbling over my discomfort. By the time we hit the ground floor, Baxter didn’t need to support me anymore, and I insisted that he stop. By the time we got to the entrance, I had entered the curmudgeonly phase of my attitude. I aggressively snatched Baxter’s leash from Tiara.

“A “please” would have been nice, Detective.” Tiara looked offended,

I grumbled as she cracked a sarcastic smirk, “Not in the mood Tiara.”

I extended my hand, gesturing for her to give me the bag she was carrying over her shoulder, “My effects… Please?”

She gave me a flat stare, unshouldered the bag, and thrust it into Baxter’s chest. He opened the tie and looked inside the bag. His ears perked to attention and his eyes grew wide with surprise, before sealing the bag back up and shouldering it. He mouthed “Thank you”, to which Tiara returned a smile. She then returned her attention to me with a half smirk.

“I am going to chalk up your sour attitude to the medication and surgery. Give me a call when you are feeling better and we can go grab a bite to eat.”

I gave her a sour look, “Are you bribing my dog?”

She got close to my face in a quoi fashion, “I took care of him while you were out.”

Giving her a flat, unamused stare, I asked, “How long till our pass expires?”

She pulled back and folded her arms under her breast, “I took care of the paperwork for you and set up a few hours of a temporary extension. I certified Baxter for the duration of your visit as a guard dog, saving you the paperwork and processing required to bring him up here in the first place.”

She arched a thumb toward his gun, “His rifle is also certified for the duration of your stay. I do not expect you to use it, nor should you be looking for a reason to use it, but Baxter is authorized to protect you under the “reasons for visitation” that I put in place.”

Tiara shrugged, “Basically, I took a shortcut, but it shouldn’t be a problem. Just hurry up and get to the train platform and don’t waste time sightseeing, or you will probably be stuck with a few fines.” She paused for a moment, and I could see the sadness in her expression, “You know, I still don’t know why you decided to leave the Mantle Don…”

I knew where she was going to go with that. I decided a long time ago when I decided not to take a rig into my system that I was not going to be a permanent resident in the Mantle. As nice as the highlife is, it is way too disconnected from the reality of the world for my taste. I was born in The Rails, and despite the amazing weather, the clean air, and the other spectacular luxuries that the rich elite can afford, the Mantle never felt like home to me. Tiara still hoped for me to change my mind one day.

I raised my hand and gave her a tired look as I insisted she stop, “Please Tiara.” There was an odd silence between us, and we stood that way for a few moments before I adjusted to scratch the itch on my back.

Baxter broke the silence, “Thank you for housing me Ms. Mason.”

Tiara gave me a sad smile and spoke without looking at Baxter, “Take care of him Baxter.”

I knew I hurt her and that, by proxy, hurt me. There was no excuse for me to treat her like that, irrelevant that she would let it roll right off her back within a few hours. I opened my mouth to say something and she stopped me abruptly.

She put her finger up, “Take a shower Donovan.” She then turned her attention to Baxter, “Get him home ASAP, Baxter.” He nodded, and she hurried out the double doors and down the steps into the beautiful daylit courtyard of the hospital without even giving me a second glance.

I watched her go in silence as both me and Baxter stepped out in the sun at the top of the stairs. Baxter stepped right next to me and put his hand on my shoulder as I continued to watch her leave. If I decided to relocate to the Mantle, it would be that same day that she would do anything she could to make the transition possible. She had been that way since we were Order cadets, and I always knew she had felt something more for me. I was hurt when she refused to move in with me. Unlike me, she was born and raised in the Mantle. I felt that the culture shock was not something she was ready for, and I was certain her parents would not approve even if she was willing.

She disappeared around a monument to the right side of the courtyard and I spoke with a defeated tone, “Spank me Baxter…”

Baxter gave me a puzzled look, “What?”

I spoke flatly, “If this is what it feels like to be a newborn baby, then you might as well finalize the moment.”

Baxter attempted to sound dignified, “I believe the doctor said you would “Feel like a new man.”

I gave him a glare.

He replied, “I’m not spanking you Don. The doctor said you were supposed to keep your recreational activity to a minimum.”

The disgust probably showed on my face as he gave me a toothy grin. I said, “What the hell books were you reading at her flat?”

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He patted my shoulder twice, “Educational ones. Now let’s get you down these stairs.”

I rolled my eyes and hobbled my way down the stairs with him in tow.

I spoke over my shoulder, “What did she give you?”

He didn’t wait for me to finish, “A few natural vanilla bean pudding cups.”

I looked over my shoulder at him with an arched eyebrow, “Are you serious? How many?”

He held up three fingers, and gave a toothy smile.

“You going to share?” I asked.

He shook his head, “I don’t think so Don. You don’t even like this flavor.”

I rolled my eyes and pressed onward. The natural stuff always tasted better, and I could use a natural pudding cup even if it wasn’t my favorite flavor. It wasn’t that I didn’t like them, I just gave him the vanilla ones as they were his favorite.

“Selfish bastard…” I mumbled to myself.

People in the courtyard gave us our space, some talking amongst each other as we passed. I didn’t care, and my charming personality was not on it’s “A” game either. Baxter waited till we were almost out of the courtyard before he spoke, “You shouldn’t have spoken to Ms. Mason like that Don.”

I didn’t look at him. It was hard to hide emotions from dogs in general, and the Dogmen had not lost their intuition through their breeding. I wasn’t in the mood for a heart to heart, so I gestured with my hand for him to be quiet and continued walking.

He insisted, “But Don! You should call her. Apologi…”

I stopped and gave him a stern glare with equally sternful words, “I will not be lectured on relationships by my dog.”

His ears drooped, as did his jaw as he stared back at me. He didn’t deserve that, and I should have known better. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. My head hurt despite the medicine earlier.

I gave him a defeated look, I was tired and I was certain it conveyed the message, “I’m sorry Baxter, that was not called for. Look, I was just released from a rather extensive collection of surgeries. That was not including the injuries that started the whole mess. I am just tired, and I just want to go home. We are two hours away. I will give her a call when my head clears. She should be good by then.”

He nodded and looked disappointed, “Sure, Don.”

I turned and continued walking along the side street, “Go ahead and update me. What’s in the bag, and what happened while I was under?”

Baxter listed off a few of the personal effects that he managed to secure from our office before authorities quarantined it as a crime scene. Tiara had used Baxter in my stead as a witness to the event. I was going to have to file my personal statement within forty-eight hours of my release from the hospital. The rest of the time was spent with him reading every book she had in her library, some of which I would have never expected from her. I don’t actually have many books in my flat. Baxter typically amuses himself with Arms magazines, history books, and a variety of fiction novels that he collects on his personal reader.

It took us almost an hour to get to the platform. I had to stop and catch my breath a few times. Baxter engaged me, and did his best to keep me from falling asleep on my feet. Whatever pain medication the nurse had given me was running its course and I would have given anything to just lay down on the side of the street in the sun. The thought did cross my mind to go ahead and go to the park instead of the transport platform. It was close by, had a great view of the canyon running directly through the middle of the city, and it would have been a shame to let a day like this go by. I could have taken to a park bench, spread out, and took a nap until the authorities showed up and discovered that both of our passes expired.

Baxter would have been bored, but he would have forgiven me. I really wouldn’t have cared at the time. Eating the fines however, helped to curb my fantasy back into reality and I sulked a bit as we arrived at the platform. The crowds were actually pretty heavy, which was unusual given the number of times I had been there in the past, even the roads leading up to the platform were relatively busy for your average midweek business day on the Mantle. Turned out there was a political gathering for the reelection of Senator Paul Fieldman. The guy had won every election he had taken part in for the past few years, so I figured it was just his general popularity that drew crowds from both the Mantle and the Rails to his speeches. Both of us fought the crowds, and made our way onto the platform.

I always enjoyed the upper tier metros because they loaded the trains from the top instead of the sides. The additional cost came with additional elbow room and personal space. Express rails were always the way to go, and always seemed to have enough space in each car for someone like Baxter to find a seat. When Baxter was kitted out in his Armor and gear, he always needed more space.

What would have been an hour of a trip; felt like it took less than ten minutes. Baxter shook me awake. I had fallen asleep against his arm as if it was a cushy pillow. My mouth was dry, and my throat was coarse. I felt far worse than I did up in the Mantle level of the city, but it was probably due to the effects of the medicine and surgery instead of the change of atmosphere. The Rails are distinctly gloomy by comparison, even in my neighborhood, and that includes the air quality so it could have been anything.

I rubbed the drool from my mouth into Baxter’s fur with a half stupid smile and sounded like an idiot as I giggled to myself, “There you go buddy.”

Baxter looked around protectively and reserved himself to his fate, “Yeah, yeah Don. I’ll clean up when we get home. Come on.”

The pain meds were great, everything was funny. Despite feeling sick, and not feeling like myself, I did not feel sore at all. Baxter scooped me up and slung me over his shoulder as I continued to giggle at some joke or person I found funny at the time. I probably said a lot of stupid things in my delusional state of mind. I don’t remember much after that, at least until Baxter took my hand to open the access panel to our flat. That was the first real moment of lucidity I can recall.

I choked, “B…Baxter?”

He sounded flat and disconnected, “Almost home Don.”

I gulped, “Feel sick.”

Baxter took my hand and placed it on the panel. There was a warm sensation as the reader scanned my palm. As the metal door slid open, the lump in my stomach convulsed and I vomited down his back. I giggled like a kid, and repeatedly asked him if he saw it, and if he was going to clean it up. I don’t remember him reacting at all.

I woke up again with my head throbbing like someone was pounding it with a hammer. My mouth tasted foul, and I was keenly aware of virtually every muscle I never knew I had. I was in my bed, I had no shirt or pants and I had my bed sheet draped over me. Despite the chore, I pulled my wrist into view to check my Mediband. It read 21:48. I had slept the entire day away, and I barely remembered getting on the tier three metro rail. It took effort, but I shifted myself out of my bed and forced myself to stand.

No pain no gain.

I exited my bedroom into my living room to see Baxter stripped down to his fur, sitting on a chair cleaning his power greaves. His rifle was disassembled into pieces on the table next to him, along with his claw shears and one of his sealed pudding cups. He wore his greaves so much that I sometimes forget what his actual legs look like, and it was clearly time for him to clip the nails on his paws. His armor and fatigues were hung along a line above the table drying. He didn’t acknowledge I had entered the room, he continued to polish his right boot. He did not look happy, or sociable, and it got me thinking about what I could remember about the day.

I shuffled my way to the kitchen and attempted to make conversation with a croak, “Morning.”

I stopped when he spoke, he did so without looking at me, “Medicine’s on the counter. I filled the prescription with some of the reward money.”

I looked at the counter, he had set the pills in an obvious place along with our water filter. Given how disconnected he sounded, I wanted to smooth things over for him. The last thing I remembered was his attempted relationship advice. Rubbing my temples, I asked,” Bax…”

He interrupted me with a glare and a snarl, “I wore the damn collar, OK!”

That caught me off guard. After observing my reaction and pause, he resumed his focus on his greave with far more vigorous motions than necessary. His lips curled revealing his teeth as he grumbled to himself silently.

His attitude was entirely unusual, especially when he was at home. I leaned up against the counter to support myself, and tried to reason with him. “Look Baxter, talk to me.”

Baxter heavily set his power greave on the table, shaking everything on it, and gave me a side glare as he collected his other greave, “You have said enough for today Don. Just take your damn medicine and leave me alone.”

The headache wasn’t getting any better, “What the hell is wrong with you Baxter?!”

He slammed his other greave to the table knocking his shears and a few parts from his rifle onto the ground. His fur stood on end, and he bared his teeth as he thrust an accusing finger to me, “I’m not a dog!” He took hold of pudding cup and threw it against the wall across the table. The pudding exploded into a mess that dripped down to the floor. After taking a moment to calm himself, he collected the scattered parts and placed them back on the table where they were.

I watched him as I attempted to figure out what to say. I didn’t want to apologize without knowing what I was apologizing for. I have always told him that it’s insincere to do that. He walked in a brooding fashion to his room across the foyer and down the hall. Swiping his hand against the doorframe, the door slid into the ceiling. He turned to give me one last look, disappointment clear and present on his face, “Maybe you should use your “reward” to get an actual dog to lick up your vomit for you.”

He disappeared into his room, and the door slid shut behind him. I was left alone with my thoughts. It had been a long day, and I wasn’t even conscious through the majority of it. I washed my mouth out, and took four of the pills in the canister. I felt sick, but it wasn’t a vomiticious illness or anything like that. I just felt like a terrible person. I figured I would clean up the mess in the morning. Despite the lack of consciousness throughout the day, I was still tired and went back to sleep.