Yesterday (Sunday)

I awoke to the incessant noise of the local birds. Dim grey light trickled through the room’s grimy window. I could hear rain outside; the birds were hiding from it on the windowsills. Beside me, under my cloak which covered us both, and wrapped in a blanket, a small body twitched while it dreamed. My bed had never felt so warm before.

Where was this warmth when I needed it in January, in nightly danger of succumbing to torpor? And I realized: probably freezing on a street somewhere selling matches. I’d seen the hatchlings out there, working long past when they should be home and asleep; perhaps I walked right by this one and refused to listen to a plea for a sale that would give her food for another day.

My back was sore and my leg throbbed, but for all that, I was content. Yes, the monkey was inconvenient, and smelt a bit… though to my surprise, not as much as many Apes did. However, on the whole, I thought I’d done well last night, as the Doctor demanded. I smiled a little, remembering his words.

“Vastra, to redeem yourself for slaughtering those tunnel workers and commuters on the London Underground, I charge you to protect humans, especially those of Great Britain, from all enemies, alien and domestic.”

“You can’t do that! The Apes are violent, destructive monsters!”

“Humans aren’t all alike. Some are weak, some are strong. Some abuse their fellows and some offer kindness to strangers. Many are cowards and many are very, very brave. And you’ll be surprised to see that some are all of these things.”

“They slaughtered my sisters while they slept! I hate the Apes for what they’ve done. What they can still do! To my people and to themselves. They are cruel, and primitive and ignorant…”

“Yes, they are. And they are kind and noble and many have good hearts and all make mistakes! Your sisters’ death was a truly terrible accident. The humans had no idea that they were there!” He’d looked at me very seriously, an attitude made difficult by his ridiculous floppy hat and long scarf.

“Vastra, this will change your life for the better. I’m sure of it. Protect them, whether an entire city of humans that seems strong and powerful, or even just one small, weak human, if that’s easier. Learn to walk before you run, as the saying goes.”

” ‘Learn to hunt monkeys before hunting Apes’ is our saying, Doctor,” I’d replied with a fierce, toothy sneer.

“No hunting children, Vastra. I mean it! This is important. Promise me. Please.” And I promised. If only to get him to shut up!

Well, Doctor, I found a little monkey, which is brave and kind, and small and weak, and I protected it for the night.

So, what do I do next?

I took a moment and studied the little Ape. The fur on its head was dark, gathered up with some string at the back of its neck, like a horse tail. It was long enough to reach between its shoulder blades. I’ve seen other hatchlings with fur like this, the older females usually wear their’s wrapped at the back of their heads. Perhaps its an indicator of age or rank. Its skin is pale, but it was dark bruises around its eyes, and still a bit of dried blood on its face. It’s hands have scrapes and bruises too, some fresh and raw, and other that have scabbed over. Interesting.

I sat up, and tried to stand, but a shooting pain through the wound in my leg stopped me. I reached for the chair by the bed, and braced myself as I stood. A moment to work through the pain, and I could hobble the two steps to sit at the table and rest.

On the bed the monkey was quiet, and when I glanced over, I could see it (‘her’ I reminded myself) see her watching me through sleepy eyes.

“Still no brilliant remarks about lizards or snakes?” I snapped, irritated by the pain. “Not even a nice little scream?”

“Umm… No,” she paused, studying me in the grey sunlight from the window. “I’m trying to remember if we’ve met before. Your eyes look familiar somehow.”

“My eyes?”

“Yes. You have kind eyes, Miss. They’re awfully pretty.”

I blinked. I’ve been called many things by Apes, but ‘kind’ and ‘pretty’ are not usually among them. ‘Hideous,’ ‘disgusting’ and ‘savage’ where the words the Apes who came stare at me in the ‘Monstre Gathering’ would use more often than not. I suspected that the hatchling may have suffered a blow to the head. Certainly the dark bruising around its eyes would support that.

The monkey started to sit up, but suddenly yelped in pain. “Gawd!” She stopped moving, eyes closed, breathing shallowly. I started out of the chair, but she shook her head, and then winced again. “No, I’ll be alright. Give me a moment. I’m stiff and everything hurts, but I need to get up. Can’t stay in bed all day.” She managed to sit upright, eyes and mouth tightly clenched.

“Move over to the edge of the bed,” I said, “And let me see your back. There is blood on the blanket. I should have checked your wounds last night, but I wasn’t at my best, and everything happened very fast.”

She did as I asked, and I inspected her back, examining through the ragged cloth the several shallow scrapes and cuts where the dirt and cobblestones had abraded her skin when she was dragged along the ground. Her coat and shirt had given some scant protection, but there are places where the threadbare fabric had torn and her skin was damaged.

“Take your shirt off.”

“Ma’am? No, Ma’am! T’aint proper.”

“Your wounds must be cleaned. The streets of London are filled with filth. You could die from an infected cut or scrape that can be easily prevented. In order for me to do so, you need to remove your shirt.” Suddenly the pain of my own wounds caught up with me, and I lost my patience with her and held up a talon.

“Now, take your shirt off, or I will cut it from your body!” I growled.

I saw her flash a look at the door, gathering herself ready for action, no doubt considering whether she should make a run for it. What must this be like for her, a huge monster behind her, threatening her when she was still hurt and disoriented from last night?

I’m frightening her, so I made an effort, and I stepped back and gentled my voice, saying softly, “That was poorly done of me. I’m hurting as well, and I tend to be ill-tempered and impatient when I’m injured. Let me help you, this truly is for your own good.”

She made a swift movement and I steeled myself to let her go. But she didn’t run, and instead…

Her shirt was… partially off. She pulled it over her head, arms still in the sleeves, and her front covered. I sighed again, strangely relieved. “Excellent. Now let me see…”

Her back was covered with scrapes and blotches, some red and purple and raw, and others that were yellow and almost green and look…older than the damage from last night. What had happened to this hatchling? And yes, there were a number of shallow scrapes and deeper cuts, but most had clotted, and only a few were seeping drops of blood, probably reopened when the shirt came off. And it all needed to be cleaned.

I poured out the bloody water from last night out of the bowl into the slop bucket (I refuse to pour things into the streets like some of these filthy Apes) then pour in some fresh water from the pitcher. I collected a scrap of clean cloth, a bottle of gin, and a box that my old friend left with me for situations such as this, and returned to the bed.

After I soaked the cloth in the water, I scrubbed vigorously at the scrapes on her back. She gritted her teeth for a minute, and then finally yelled “Stop it!”

Startled, I stopped, and realized that she’s breathing hard, tears running down her face. “I’m not a bloody table top, ma’am! Take it easy, you’ll rub my skin clean off the way you going.”

“Well, your back is certainly cleaner. Let me just sanitize the wounds.” I lifted the half-empty Gin bottle and poured a thin stream down her back, moving it from shoulder to shoulder and catching the excess liquid in the bowl. The monkey stiffened her back, and seemed to be fighting to not move away from the stream. I saw that she was now biting her shirt and the tears were back.

“Now what?” I asked.

“Bloody Hell that stings.” She sent a narrow eyed look over her shoulder. “You’ve never done this before, have you?

“I know how to do this in theory, but you’re the first Ape I’ve ever… repaired.”

“You have that sword. You must have cut people before.”

“Well, yes, but I usually kill them.”

“Kill them?”

“I assure you, they almost always deserve it.”

I decided it might be wise not to mention my occasional eating habit right now.

“Anyway, I’m not an Ape! I’m a girl! A human being, if you please.”

“Mammal, ape, human, girl. What does it matter?”

The monkey dropped her head forward onto her chest, and muttered to itself, too low for me to hear. I doubted that it was very complimentary. Considering the discomfort, both mental and physical, that I’d put her through in the last ten minutes, I decided to let her be.

I sorted through the kit that the Doctor left with me on a recent visit. It contained assorted bandages, surgical glue, antibiotics of various types, and pain-killers, better and less addictive than the various opiates used at this time. I pulled out a small bundle marked ‘medical gauze.’ Most of her wounds were scrapes and small cuts; since they were cleaned, wrapping them would be enough, I thought. With her reluctant co-operation, I managed to get her wrapped up, and with a happy sigh she pulled her shirt back on.

I took a bottle of medicine from the box, checking that it was a mild pain-killer. Everything in there was safe for both humans and myself to use. The Doctor, often careless about many things, was careful to ensure that at least this was safe. It was almost as if he knew I’d have to care for humans occasionally. A moment’s work to open the bottle, and I handed her one pill.

“What’s this?” There was a note of suspicion in her voice. Smart little monkey, to not just accept what she’s given by a stranger.

“These will help reduce the pain. Two of these for me, see…” and I showed her the pills in my hand, “and one for you, since you’re rather small. Don’t chew it, I’m told they are very bitter.” I swallowed mine, washing them down with the last of the gin. She popped her pill in her mouth as well, and swallowed it without water or gin

That narrow eyed look was back on her face as she regarded the gin bottle, but she simply said, “Sorry I yelled at you, ma’am. I know you were only trying to help.”

“It’s fine. I suppose I need to learn to be gentler. We’re both hurting and a bit grumpy.” I sighed. “What a pair we are.”

“Yes, ma’am. That we are.”

We were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Rent’s due!” called out my landlady. Although it was early in the day, I could hear the slur in her voice from drinking the Gin she sold downstairs. Excellent. She was less likely to care that I never show her my face.

I donned my cloak, and pulled out my small purse. I had more money hidden in the room, but I would not touch it while the monkey was here. Better safe than sorry, as the Doctor liked to say.

I turned to the monkey. “I’m not sure you are well enough to leave yet, although you were certainly considering it a moment ago. I live a… solitary life. Someone must be worrying about you, though I’m not sure if I can get a message to them today. I don’t trust my landlady not to lose it. But we could ask her to get a note delivered, if you like.”

“Maybe to the factory where I get my matches? They won’t see it ’til tomorrow though. Sunday’s their day off.”

The match factory? She must be an orphan, or she’d send a message to her parents.

“Are you able to write a short message? Do you know your letters?”

“A little ma’am, though I don’t have much chance to practice. I’m better with numbers. Let’s leave it for now, won’t make much difference anyway.”

Another pounding on the door interrupted us.

“Yes, Yes, Mrs. Brown,” I called and after checking my hood again, opened the door, “I’ll take two bottles of your Gin as well.” There had to be some compensation to living in this rat hole, and the Gin went a small way towards it.

My landlady was mollified by my extra purchase and the coins in her hand, and left us with a gap-toothed smile.

I closed the door, and put the two bottles on the table. “That’s the last coins in my purse.” Hopefully that comment will discourage the hatchling from attempting to rob me while I sleep. “I keep drinking this alcohol, and I have no idea if this Gin is very good, or very bad.”

“No such thing as ‘good’ Gin, ma’am, “she replied, “save to clean wounds, I suppose. Thank you for that as well.”

“You disapprove.”

“T’aint my place to approve nor disapprove, ma’am,” she replied with a shrug.

I considered her words. I suspected that she was not happy about something. Perhaps she considered the Gin a waste of money? Yet it was my money to spend.

“You are correct,” I replied, “It’s not your place.”

A cool nod was my only reply. And then I wondered what had just happened. Why do I suddenly feel that I’ve missed something very important?

She was being almost painfully polite, even though she was young and the young Apes are not known for discretion. What was not being said?

It was time to change the subject. Before I can still my tongue, I ask “You mentioned the Black Scorpions. Who or what are they?”

From her flinch this may not be a wise topic. I’ve done it again. Yet she answers readily enough.

“They’re filth, ma’am. If there’s a sin they can make a profit from, they’re involved. They run gambling and opium dens. They control gangs of pick-pockets. They own some cock and dog fighting rings too. But their favorite crime is keeping whores. They’ve got gangs that go after girls and sometimes boys. They kidnap them, especially if they’re orphans, or sometimes…” she trailed off.

“Sometimes?”

She whispers her reply, as if she can’t believe it herself, “They’ll buy a child from her parents, to forgive a debt or for… other reasons.”

“Surely even among the Apes that’s not legal?”

“No. It’s not. But the Scorpions don’t care. Whispers say that they’re protected by some very rich and powerful men.”

“And the police don’t do anything about this?”

“They try. But murder and burglary is more important to them. They protect the ladies and gentlemen more than common folks like me.” She yawned suddenly. “Why am I sleepy again? I just woke up!”

“That will be the medicine taking effect. Go ahead and sleep; I might take a nap later as well.”

She moved to get off the bed, but I waved her back. If she has fleas, they’re already in the bedding. “No stay there for now. You may as well be comfortable.”

The monkey lay down again, making herself small against the wall on the far side of the bed, leaving me as much room as possible in case I wanted to lie down. “Don’t worry ma’am, I’ll wash your blanket and cloak before I leave…” she muttered, “…least I can do.” And with that, she promptly fell asleep again.

Leave?

Well of course she has to leave… eventually. I understood that.

For some reason I didn’t want to think about it.

---

I watched the sleeping monkey for a while. I understood what she was doing; the Doctor once explained that sleep is one way that the Apes heal. Given the bruises she had on her torso, she needs to heal a number of old injuries, in addition to her recent ones and the blood loss. Thank the gods she had no broken bones. I do not know what to do for Apes with fractures. I suppose I would need to put her out of her misery. Or perhaps find a veterinarian for Apes. I know such things exist, though I’ve never had reason to find one.

I sipped my gin, restless. I hated being inactive. It had been a long cold winter, and the last night was the first time in several weeks that I was comfortable enough to be outdoors late in the evening.

I reflected on my foolish impulse to help. I could have gone the other way. I could have ignored a cry in the dark. It would have made no difference in the end, save to the monkey and it would have saved me my wounds. The filthy air that surrounds the city would simply have closed over the tiny gap, like a cold river would closed over a drowned garter snake, with about as much impact on the universe.

Blast the little monkey for getting me into this mess. Blast the Doctor for demanding that I make foolish promises. It’s not as if my own fortunes could ever depend on a simple act of kindness. It’s not as if the fate of worlds depends on a life of a little street Ape.

I was growing maudlin. I hated being injured.

I took another drink. I still couldn’t decide if I actually liked the taste of Gin.

---

Time passed, as it tends to do, even when one is a former companion to a madman in a blue box. Eventually, the monkey woke up again.

I was just finishing the bottle as the monkey stirred. She watched me shake the last of drops into my cup. I smirked at her; she simply gazed at me, sitting up slowly against the wall, as if she was trying to stay out of range. She eyed the slops bucket for a long moment, then the door, and hesitatingly stood up, and edged towards it. I moved to block her way. “Where are you going?” I asked.

“Am I a prisoner then, Ma’am?” and suddenly she was tense, her gaze flickering from me, to the room around me; sides, above, below and I could see options being weighed and decisions being made in her head. And all by instinct. If I attempted to stop her, she would fight and flee. It didn’t matter that I was probably twice her weight and half again as tall. It didn’t matter that she… will lose.

Now that I could see them, her tiny balled fists showed signs of older cuts and bruises on the knuckles; she’d had to fight before last night. Yet she was still standing here, alive. I’d made a foolish mistake: a trapped animal will defend itself. Fiercely.

I stepped out of the line between her and the door, speaking softly. “No,” I said, “but I’m not certain you can move very fast or go very far.” That calmed her a bit as she moved cautiously past me, holding my gaze with her dark eyes. I continued, turning slowly as I held her gaze. “Your body seems to have decided to go into healing mode. You’ll be asleep again within the hour. Better here than outside.”

Letting her make her own choice was hard. With no thought on my part, every instinct I had was suddenly shouting; Protect! Defend! And a tiny whisper: mine! My… monkey? My pet? What nonsense was I thinking?

“I’ll be fine. Feeling much better.” She displayed enough bravado for a warrior cadet. “But I better go down to the privy while I’m awake. Four sets of stairs down will take a while.” She was thinking of the privy on the ground floor. She reached for her coat. If she took it, I knew she’d never return. I needed to make it easier for her to stay.

“There’s a noxious hole for all types of waste disposal behind the door at the end of the hall.” She looked back, surprised. “It’s not pleasant, but it will save your strength.”

She eyed me for a long moment, and then sighed deeply. “Alright. Pass me the slops bucket, then. May as well kill two birds with one stone.”

I passed her the bucket, waited until she left, and hissed in satisfaction. I love it when a plan comes together!

A few minutes later she walked back in the door. She set down the slop bucket and eyed me for a long moment, then shook her head. “Why am I still here?” She asked.

Ah that was a simple question to answer. “Because it is easier to fight a monster in the light, than shadows in the dark.”

“You’re not a monster.” A slight, sad smile from the monkey, “I’ve fought monsters. You’re fierce, and a rather frightening at first, and I don’t want to cross you when you’re angry…” she shrugged. “…but you’re…just different, I guess. You’re not a monster.”

I lived for 5 years as the ‘Monster’ of the ‘Monstre Gathering.” That gave me the savings I have now, slight as they are. I am a true and certified monster that thousands paid good money to view, and cringe at; awed and thrilled

I have killed humans, drunk their blood, and eaten their flesh to appease my hunger. Both those that deserved it… And to my shame, those that did not.

Yet this little monkey truly believes she’s seen worse than I. And I am horrified to think that she may be right. There are days that I hate the City of London.

“Do you have a needle and thread I could use, please?” she asked, as she folded her legs and dropped to the floor, leaning back against the wall. “I can mend the rips in your clothes, if you want.”

“Why are you there?” I asked, “Isn’t that uncomfortable?”

“No ma’am, I’m fine. Been in bed far too long. Time to be up.”

And then I realized what she was doing. Fool, I knew I’d made a mistake earlier. She was making sure I couldn’t get between her and the door again. She’s partly feral, and I’d lost what little trust she had in me for rescuing her. Now I need to let her have time to decide for herself when or if I can regain it. Perhaps if I go along with her…

“I do have needle and thread, and any help you could give would be a favour to me. I’m not very good with mending things.”

“Let me start with your cloak then. Need to mend it before I can wash it.”

She turned the cloak inside out, and repaired both the lining and the outer fabric neatly. She worked steadily for some time, and while she was doing so, I took the opportunity to quietly retrieve a clean shirt and skirt from my clothes chest, and change. I kept my back to the monkey; I’m aware of the basic physical differences between my people and the Apes, and given how jumpy she was earlier on the subject of having her own shirt off, I thought it better to not overburden her with that information.

It hadn’t gone as I’d planned.

“Do you want me to check those cuts again, ma’am? Change the bandages?” Her voice was soft, as if she didn’t want to startle me. “Ma said they should be checked and changed once a day.”

I hesitated a long moment: did I really trust an Ape to see to my injuries? But I couldn’t really see the cuts on my back and leg. I needed a second pair of eyes, and she had at least some knowledge of treating wounds.

“You did well with the one on my back last night; have a look at the slice on my leg.”

“Right then.” She unfolded herself from the corner, and stood waiting. I looked at her, and she smiled a little. “You’ll need to lie down, ma’am. I can’t see the back of your leg properly if you’re standing.”

That presented a problem. I didn’t know if I could trust her while I was vulnerable. I knew she still had that knife she took from the dead Scorpion. What to do about it?

I could demand that she give it to me, I suppose. I could require that she treat me while I’m standing or sitting on the chair, though that would hardly protect me, just make it difficult for her, and might compromise my own care. I could demur from being treated; simply tell her I’ve changed my mind.

Or I could comply with her very sensible request. Just choose an option and do it.

As I hesitated, the monkey looked at me questioningly. “I promise not to be rough, miss. Honest! I don’t want to hurt you.”

Well I can’t ignore a challenge like that! After all, I’m not the one who was threatened earlier. And I still have my own secret weapon: a killer of a tongue.

I lay down on my belly, and the monkey sat on the edge of the bed beside me. She gently lifted the hem of my skirt, bringing it to my knee, and left the edge of it there. I still do not understand all the taboos the Apes have about skin and degrees of nudity, but I appreciated that she was leaving me as much dignity as possible.

The monkey carefully removed the bandage from last night, and I could feel her hand gently tracing the wound. “It’s starting to heal up nicely. There’s no fresh blood. Looks like just the tip of the knife caught a couple of spots on your skin. Cuts don’t seem too deep. If you stay off it another day or two, it’ll heal up fine. Bet it stings though.”

“It does. Pass me the medicine box. There may be something in there to reduce the pain.” She fetched the box, and placed it on the floor near my head. I looked over the edge of the bed and sorted through the contents. I handed a tube of ointment to her. “Put a little bit of this on the cuts, it will help them heal. Not too much, I don’t know if I’ll be able to replace it when the tube is done.”

The monkey nodded, and settled back on the bed, carefully applying the salve. There was a moment when she stroked my scales just a little in the wrong direction, and I felt a ripple of tsokesh, but she quickly finished, and after wiping her hands, wrapped up my lower leg in a clean bandage and cloth.

“Sit up so I can take off these bandages and check your back.” I shifted on the bed, and she helped me unwrap, staying carefully behind me. “This cut looks like it pulled open again, but you’ve been quiet all day.”

“It must have happened last night when I picked you up and put you on the bed.”

“You did? I don’t remember that. I remember working on your back and then…” she trailed off.

“You went into shock. I had no idea what to do, so I just wrapped you in the blanket and tried to keep you warm.” It had been frightening, but I don’t think she was too badly hurt. She’s recovering well, and seems to be coherent between bouts of sleepiness.

“Well, whatever you did worked. So I thank you again. I seem to say that a lot to you.” Behind me I could feel her cleaning up the wound on my back. “There’s just a little bit of fresh blood, I’ll try some of that stuff, and bind it up again.”

“Work from top to bottom, otherwise it pulls my scales in the wrong direction .”

“Sorry. Does it hurt? Itch?”

“No, it just.. feels wrong.”

“Huh. Right then, top to bottom it is.” She applied the ointment carefully as I’d asked, then bound up the wound, wrapping the bandages around my chest and tucking the end in carefully at my side, in case I needed to remove it myself. For one so young, she’s doing very well.

I stretched gently when she was done, settling the new wrappings in place. “Do I need to change your bandages too?” I asked.

“No ma’am, we did mine this morning. I’m safe until tomorrow, thank you.”

I frowned at her for a moment. Cheeky little monkey! Then I shook my head and smiled a little, pleased she didn’t hold my roughness this morning against me.

She grinned back at me and returned to her mending, working on her own coat and my torn blouse and skirt. It was evening again by the time she finished, and folded up the clothes to be washed. She covered her mouth and yawned. “Sorry. Time to go to sleep again. Your turn for the bed, ma’am. You look all done in. I’ll take the floor tonight. See you in the morning.” She curled up, settling herself against the wall.

“Don’t be absurd! You can’t sleep on the floor!”

“It’s your bed, ma’am! I’ve slept worse places these last few months, honest. Besides, in my family, the youngsters always slept on the floor. Bed’s for the adults. Won’t hurt me for the night.”

I considered arguing, but I really was very tired. I tossed her the blanket she’d used last night, wrapped myself in my cloak and lay down to sleep.

I spent the night shivering; the room felt colder that night that it had in months. I missed my little foot warmer.