Fighting to Live
Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11
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Title: FIGHTING TO LIVE
Author: Ulyferal
Rating: K+
Warnings: Some profanity.
Disclaimer: “SWAT Kats: The Radical Squadron,” its characters and concepts are copyright to Hanna-Barbera Cartoons, Inc and are used without permission.
FIGHTING TO LIVE
Chapter 9: Grasping at Straws
With the drug carefully stored in his suit, Razor listened carefully to Dr. Konway’s instructions. He would be the one handling this since he was not as emotionally involved as T-Bone.
“I want to see you in a week, Commander. Even if I can’t cure your condition, I do want to keep on top of your health and adjust the meds if we need to, based on what you experience,” Konway warned him.
“Of course, I understand,” Feral agreed without complaint.
The SWAT Kats took him the way they had come in, except for pausing long enough to let Feral check a computer terminal for the latest information on the hunt for the spy. He quickly copied it on a disk and tucked it into a pocket.
He grit his teeth when he saw how the pair managed to get into his headquarters so easily. He knew they would use a different method the next time, knowing he would plug this discrepancy as soon as he was able (if he didn’t die first). Feral really couldn’t begrudge them doing this. Dr. Konway was obviously aiding them at times, and he made up his mind not to punish him for it nor stop it from happening since it had benefited him too.
It was a rather hair-raising way down to where they parked the Turbokat, but very soon they were on their way to Feral’s apartment to plan their next move.
T-Bone dropped his partner and Feral off on the apartment roof then parked the jet on a more sturdy roof before using his glovatrix to swing his way back. As before, they encountered no one at this time of day as they made their way to Feral’s apartment door.
Once inside, Feral pulled his coat and tie off then went to his laptop sitting on a small desk in the living area. He flicked it on and laid the disk next to it then went to the kitchen for something to drink.
“You two want anything to drink?” he asked, being a good host.
“Nah!” the tabby grunted, flicking the TV on.
“No, thanks,” Razor said politely, joining his friend on the couch.
Feral continued on into the kitchen and got himself some milk and a banana. Returning to the living room, he sat down before his laptop and slipped the disk in. For the next couple of hours Feral studied the information scrolling by. He scowled angrily and shut it down in disgust.
“Nothing huh?” Razor asked quietly.
“Yeah!” Feral grumbled. He got up from his seat, checking the time he noted it was well past lunch. “You guys want lunch or should we opt for dinner?” he asked.
Shrugging, T-Bone said, “Doesn’t matter to us. Order or make what you like. If you want to cook, we can help.”
Feral thought about it moment then went to the kitchen and checked his fridge and cupboards. If they ate a substantial meal now, they wouldn’t be hungry later.
He noted he had the makings for a steak and potato dinner. He called out to the other room, “Someone want to peel potatoes?” He pulled out a paw full of potatoes and dumped them in the sink then went to the fridge again.
Razor walked in. “I’ll peel,” he said, heading for the sink.
Feral put some frozen steaks in the microwave to thaw a bit then reached into a drawer next to him and pulled out a peeler, turning to hand it off to Razor.
“Salad good?” he asked.
“Sure,” Razor said agreeably as he quickly peeled the potatoes. “Mashed?” he asked before he cut them up.
“Doesn’t matter to me,” Feral grunted as he put together a salad.
Razor nodded and began to cut up the potatoes then transferred them to the pot Feral had put on the counter, added water then put it on the stove and turning it on high to get it started more quickly.
The microwave dinged. Feral used a plate to put the raw and dripping steaks on then carried them over to the stove. He had a grilling surface, and it was already hot. The steaks sizzled as he placed them on it and seasoned.
The kitchen soon smelled wonderful and drew the tabby from the living room.
“Need help?” he asked, his nose twitching hungrily.
“You can set the table,” Feral grunted as he flipped a steak. “The plates and cups are there, silverware in the drawer below.” He pointed with his tongs.
“Right!” T-Bone said as he went to the right cabinet and pulled out the plates and cups. After setting the table, he asked, “What’s there to drink?”
“Milk, soda or water,” the Commander told him. “I want milk.”
“Soda for me!” Razor sang out as he stirred the potatoes and reduced the heat under them.
“Gotcha!” the tabby said as he poured the appropriate drinks all around.
A companionable silence fell except for the sound of food cooking. Some ten minutes later, Feral sang out, “Steak’s ready; give me plates.”
T-Bone quickly brought the plates as Feral plopped one on each. Feral shut off the grill and scraped it down. Then tossed the tongs in the sink. Turning back to the fridge, he pulled the salad out and some dressings and set it on the table. He got some serving spoons for it then went to see how the potatoes were doing.
“Done yet?” he asked the cinnamon tom.
Razor stuck a fork in them. “Yep! Strainer?”
Feral grabbed one from the cupboard and Razor drained the potatoes. The dark tom took out a masher, butter, milk and garlic and quickly seasoned them before mashing it all up thoroughly.
Razor had cleaned up and placed the cookware in the sink then took a seat so as to be out of Feral’s way. T-Bone was already seated and waiting eagerly.
Feral dropped the masher in the sink, put away the garlic salt, butter, and milk then placed the bowl on the table before seating himself. He served up some potatoes on his own dish then passed it to Razor. T-Bone got some salad and passed it to Feral.
“Hmmm, this is good. You’re a great cook, Commander,” T-Bone said, enjoying his steak.
“I second that. These are delicious mashed potatoes,” Razor mewed happily, taking another big bite of them.
“You’re welcome,” Feral said, secretly pleased they enjoyed his cooking. He never really got much time to indulge in it. He thanked his mother for insuring her sons could cook well.
After the meal, Razor and T-Bone volunteered to do the dishes and insisted he go and change then rest. He didn’t argue. He did feel a bit tired, so went to his bedroom and stripped off his uniform, putting on comfortable sweats and t-shirt then returning to the living room to see what was on the TV.
He was watching an interesting movie when the SWAT Kats joined him. Silence prevailed as they became engrossed in the show.
They watched TV for some hours before finally going to bed. The SWAT Kats took up their previous sleeping places as Feral went to his bedroom.
So far, the epilepsy drug was still working. Dr. Konway didn’t want Razor to give Feral anymore until they could determine how long the effects lasted.
It was just an hour past midnight when T-Bone awakened at the sound of a thump. He shook the cobwebs from his mind and raced to Feral’s room. Flipping the light on, he found Feral had fallen to the floor where he was thrashing around.
“Razor!” he shouted.
Razor dashed into the room and when he saw Feral’s condition, pulled out the needle and drug from his suit. Withdrawing only the amount prescribed, he reached for one of Feral’s flailing arms and injected it.
They waited tensely for the drug to work. Time passed and Feral continued to flail much to their consternation. When the ten minute mark became fifteen then twenty, Razor dared to administer another small dose.
Five minutes more and Feral finally stopped fitting. He lay panting and sweating. When his eyes opened, he stared at them in confusion.
“It’s okay, you just had one of those milder fits. Do you remember it?” T-Bone asked.
Feral blinked for a moment longer before finally answering. “Some of it but not all, not like my Lightning Fits.”
“Well, unfortunately, it took two doses to stop them,” Razor said grimly.
Feral paled. “Two?”
“Yeah. Guess it’s not going to last as long as we hoped, but it did go nearly eight hours,” Razor said encouragingly.
The dark tom closed his eyes. He knew Razor was just trying to make him feel better, but he knew what this truly meant. The drug would fail him soon, maybe not tomorrow or the next day but he really didn’t hold out hope it would be longer than that.
He slowly sat up, not refusing T-Bone’s gentle assistance then moved to stand up.
“I want to take a shower,” he said heavily.
“Sure, want some help?” the tabby asked quietly.
“No, I think I’ll be alright,” Feral said flatly then moved to the bathroom.
After the door closed, Razor stared at his partner with a grim look. “I know he realizes the drug may not last more than a few days before it stops working for him,” he said unhappily.
T-Bone turned to stare blindly at the window. It was so unfair! Feral had managed to survive this long, it just didn’t seem right that he would lose the battle so soon. Swallowing, he turned back to his partner.
“All we can do is hope something happens to change things for him,” he said, trying to be upbeat.
Razor smiled wanly at his friend’s need to grasp at straws.
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