A Friend in Need

 I awoke with a sweet gentleness which had been evading me since the break in.
Dusk was falling, and I went into the bathroom, showered, wrapped my hair up in a tight
bun, and proceeded to put layer upon layer of makeup on my face.  Orange bases,
blending shades, black stripes, white for fur.  Contacts, fangs, ear-tips.  The original cat
costume slid on, buckles fastened against the smell of leather.  A side pouch, containing
some herbs and a few small jars of salve, slipped on.
 I fluffed the wig, tossing it back and forth, snapped out the lights, and, in complete
darkness, bounced out the back window.  From the second window, it was a minor drop.
It felt good to be alive.  From the brush, I pulled out a cloak, used the cellular telephone
to call a taxi, and ran the mile at the point of meeting.  I asked him to drop me about a
mile from the hospital.  I called up the main desk, and asked for the Lieutenant’s room
number.  She politely informed me that he was in a seventh-floor room and visiting hours
would be over in an hour or so.
 I thanked her for the information, hung up, and climbed a tree adjacent to the
hospitol.  From the tree to a fire escape, and, up to floor seven.  A utility closet, of all
things was in front of me.  I slipped the window open, and slipped in.  I cracked the door
open, and looked across the room, to get an idea as to where I was in terms of room
numbers.  Quite a few off.  I ducked back outside, and continued up the fire escape, to the
roof.
 Coming down the other side of the building and repeating the process led me to
just a single room off.  Such luck.  I slipped open the window and jumped in.  He was
asleep, the television blaring.  I looked at the chart briefly, it was terribly difficult for
Western medicine to classify something as simple as Qi disruption.
 “’Evening pretty lady.” He spoke.
 “Good Evening.” I replied.
 “It’s the back that hurts worse.  They sent in a fleet of Chiropractors.  After the
first one, I told the rest ta go ta hell.”
 “I personally have never had great sucess with their brand of medicine, however I
know of many that enjoy their abilities.” I replied.  I walked over to him, and picked up his
left foot, massaging it gently.  One-hundred time I rubbed a certain Qi point in the base of
his foot.
 “Dat feels good.” He said simply.
 “I’ll have you walking in no time.”
 “Dat’ll feel even better.  ‘Course I’ll havfta fake it for awhile.”
 “Your logic?” I inquired.
 “Well how am I gonna explain this miracle recovery?”
 “Good point.  When can you check out.”
 “’bouta week.  They’re goina send me a nurse, in home, for rehab.  Been toyin’
with taking a desk job or partial pension.  Start up a security firm.  Be a consultant.
Nobody but the Lootenant would be sad ta se me go.”  I thought about this for a moment.
 “Turn.” I said.
 He flopped to his left.  I grabbed a foot, and bent it back, at the shoulder pressing a
series of pressure points.  He winced involentarily.
 “Does that hurt?”
 “Nope, if feels kinda good, actually.”
 “Kick for me.”
 “I can’t.  I haven’t been able to sit up.”
 “You can now.  Kick.”
 His leg spasamed and moved in a pseduo-kicking motion.
 “Wow.”
 “Turn.”  He rotated, and I repeated the motion.  I had him kick, and then he began
to move the knee back and forth voluntarily.
 “Not quite done yet.  Turn around on your stomach.” He turned.  I began to gently
massage his back and shoulders.”
 “Ummm.” He said.  I held his head in my hands.
 “I’m afraid this will hurt a bit.” I whispered softly into his ear, gently touching it
with his lips.  I could feel him shudder under my words, and I wondered just for a
moment.
 His muscluature rippled beneath me as I triggered points of pressure.  I never
realized under his cheap suits there was a body of rippling muscle.  In order to manipulate
those muscles, I had climbed upon the bed, and, at the moment, was straddling him.
 I heard discussion outside of the hallway, and saw a shadow.  I lept from the bed,
and stood flat against the point where the door would close.
 “Detective?” She called in tenativly as she entered.
 “Mmm?” He said in a half-snore.
 “Oh.  Sorry.  Goodnight.” She turned and left.
 “You ain’t gone yet, areya?” He asked softly.
 “No.  I would like for you to preform a cobra.” I said.
 “A whut?”
 “Place your hands underneath your beastbone and press up, as far as your back can
arch up.”
 "You've gotta be kidding." He said.
 "Lie on your stomach." My tone was not kidding.  I walked aside of the bed.  "Put
your hands under your breastbone, folded." He did.  "Now use your hands and press up as
if you were doing a push-up."
     He mumbled something uninelligeble, and did as he was told.  Surprisingly, he
lifted up without pain.
 "Wow." He said softly.  He turned toward the right.
 "Now turn right until you can see your feet." He looked toward the rear of the
bed.  "Now the left."  There was a crunching sound.  He winced, and set himself down.
 "Do that thrice a day; preferably before you eat."
 "Kinda like grace." He said smugly.
 "Yup.  Kinda like grace."  My grammer was definatly deteriorating. We were
sitting next to each other on the bed.  I felt his body next to mine.  My pulse was racing.
Damn.  So long ago, I had surpressed these feelings.  No-one to trust.
 "Didja get it worked out?"
 "Worked...?"
 "You were stressin out.  That's how all this hell started.  'Member?"
 "Yes.  I communicated with someone whom I call friend."
 There was a distinct silence.
 "Good to have 'em." He said softly.
 "Indeed.  I have few." I replied.  The tension was mounting in the room.
 "Oh yeah, I heard from Harry, my paramedic friend.  His kid, he's gonna be just
fine.  Apparently you scaret the bejesus outta him, too.  He's being a good little boy, and
in fact, his ma says that he wants to start ta go ta church."
 I frowned slightly.
 "Yeah, well I never been a church goer anyhow, but it's good that he's a trying to
at least get out of the drug scene." He continued.
 My eyes closed.  I was weary.  I stood, blocking what little light that came in.  My
hands were trembling, I wanted, oh, god did I want.  I heard him inhale.  His breath grew
shallow, I could feel his pulse quicken.
 "Cat." He said.
 "Yes." I replied.
 "Thank you." He said.  He looked not unlike a puppy dog.
 I walked round the outside of the bed, toward the window.  I looked at his back, in
the siloette.  What the hell.  You only live once.
 My hand shot out, grabbed his shoulder, and snapped him prone on the bed.  I
bowed deeply, and kissed him, squarley on the lips.
 "You're welcome." I said.  I slipped through the window before he had a chance to
respond.