#taking steps

The beeping started to pick up speed right as his breathing did as well. 

He tried to bark out, but it came out panicked. His throat was painfully sore, and it burned. He reached up to feel his neck. Greg froze. 

No, he shouldn't be able to do that. He felt something tugging at his arm. He glanced down, seeing the IV tube. Connecting to the flesh of his arm and, at the end, a hand. It hovered just below where he wanted to reach for his neck. Fingers. Not paws. 

The flesh was so close to his nose. That smell. Knight’s smell. 

No…this is his…

Greg’s chest tightened as he started to tremble. He forced himself to look down at the covers. He needed to know what was happening to him. With shaking fingers, he gripped the cover of the hospital sheets and ripped them off. His eyes widened as he saw the body before him. 

Human arms, human chest, human legs. 

Not only that, but he could smell him. Knight was everywhere in his senses and in sight. 

This is his body.

Knight scent was always a safe and familiar smell for him. It kept him grounded, and he knows he's never alone when his best friend is nearby. Now it just felt wrong. It wrapped around him like a prison. A reminder of what he lost. Broken. Unreal. 

This can’t be real…I’m still dreaming. 

A strained whine escaped him as he jerked upright. Stumbling out of bed, his legs buckled under the unfamiliar weight and experience of walking on two legs. He hit the floor with a hard thud. He wanted to say it was painful when the IV ripped out of his arm, but the panic was surging too high to feel much of anything. Each inhale flooded him with Knight’s scent again; it was suffocating. He let out a few whimpers. He braced himself on his hands, facing the fingers before him on the ground. 

I didn’t mean for this to happen. 

A low growl rumbled in his chest, more out of fear than aggression. The vibration through his body didn’t feel right. He curled inward slightly, clutching at himself like he could force himself to separate into two.

I didn’t want your body…I don’t want to take your place…

He pressed a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of a heart that wasn’t his. Yet it was probably his only comfort in his surreal conclusion that would be his forever nightmare. 

I don’t know how to be you. Not like this. 

His breathing was getting painful for both his throat and chest. A weak bark escaped him, cracking into a whine as his panic peaked. Trapped between the comfort and the grief. 

His ears perked up when he heard footsteps just outside the room. Hope of someone coming to help him dashed when the thought crossed his mind. What are they gonna think when they see him? He wasn’t a dog anymore, nor was he a human man. He was something in between. 

Something wrong. 

He couldn’t help but let a defensive growl build in his throat as his heart pounded harder, faster. He uncurled himself and moved on all fours. Something he was familiar with as he moved to hide behind the bed. His body tensed as every instinct clashed. Unable to figure out what he was meant to be. 

He braced himself as the handle began to turn. 

The door clicked open. Greg’s head snapped up instantly, a low, unsteady growl building in his throat before he could stop it. His instincts were on high alert to protect himself, but still enough reason not to follow through and attack. He was trained better than to do so. 

The familiar scent hit him as the Chief of Ohkay City police stepped inside. This caused Greg’s growl to change into a confused whine. He could see the Chief’s usual firm posture weighted down, shoulders slightly slumped in a way Greg had never seen before. His eyes looked at Greg with such guilt and such grief. 

“...Hey, Greg…do you remember me?” He asked softly as he stopped just a few paces away from where Greg was hiding behind the bed. He knelt to get closer to Greg’s level and held out a hand. Not in fear but in caution, like approaching a frightening animal. Which, technically, Greg was. 

Greg shifted a bit as he let out another whine. He took in more of the Chief’s scent now that he was closer and nodded just slightly, a small yes. 

“I know this is …a lot,” The chief's voice tightened as he continued. “Well, more than a lot…But will you be okay if I introduce someone to you?” 

A new smell came through the doorway. If Greg had focused, he would have realized her smell had been in the room the whole time. Was she the one tending to him? A nurse moved in slowly, gently with her expressions, but steady. “This is Nurse Genie. She has been at your side during your recovery.” The chief introduced her as she came to stand behind him. 

“Hello, it's nice to meet you, Greg.” Her voice was warm. “I will be helping you in this process.” 

Helping me?

Greg blinked at them and tilted his head in confusion. A small question huffed left him. Another wave of unease rolled through him. It wasn’t as suffocating as before. Maybe it's because they didn’t look at him like a monster as he expected. 

Genie knelt beside the Chief and held out a hand, “You don’t have to understand it all right now. We are here for you, one step at a time, take all the time you need.” Greg moved forward, still on all fours, to get closer to them. Still, there was a small distance, but it was enough to let them know he trusted them, at least a small amount. 

Chief exhaled quietly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Besides, Knight would kill me if I didn't make sure you weren’t taken care of. So we’re gonna figure this out together.” 

Knight. 

The mention of his name caused Greg to back away a pace, letting out a aching whine and a sad howl. He placed a hand over his chest, looking up at them as he kept thumping his chest with his palm. 

Please, I need to know what happened to me? To us?

The Chief and Nurse look at each other, unable to understand Greg’s question. Well, not entirely, but Nurse Genie had a hunch. “If you can give us time to get you in a more stable state. I promise we’ll tell you everything.” She asked. Greg was quiet, unsure how to feel about waiting, but maybe she was right; he wasn’t in a good headspace. The academy always told them that a stressful situation can cloud the mind. He gave a simple nod in approval to wait. 

Greg swallowed hard as his body was still shaking, and he shifted positions. This body was really awkward to be curled up like…like he used to do when scared. He instead uncurled himself and forced himself to sit still, similar to a dog pose with his hands up front and legs bent. 

I don’t know how to do this….this is awkward. But maybe I can learn, as they said. 

The room had gone quiet again before the Chief spoke up. “Oh yeah, I completely forgot.” The chief quickly stood up and started to reach into his coat pocket. Greg’s ears twitched as he heard the ruffling of clothing move about as the Chief struggled to pull something out.

What is he doing?

“Aha!” the Chief exclaimed as he freed the object from his pocket and held up a bright yellow tennis ball with the name GREG on the side. Greg could swear the world froze in that moment, seeing the worn, scuffed, familiar ball. His ears lifted just slightly, eyes locking onto it. 

The Chief crouched back down slowly and held out the ball. “I know how much you love this thing, so I brought it with me to help, I don't know, calm your nerves.” 

Greg stared at it for a moment he hesitated as his body went rigid. Before slowly and cautiously reaching out with a hand. Fingers wrapping around the fuzzy ball, it felt odd, however he didn’t let it go. Bringing it closer to himself, now holding it with both hands. Knight’s scent was still on it, but beneath it was his own. Two different scents now together. 

Greg let out a whine as his ears lowered. The grip tightened around the ball, holding onto it like it was something fragile yet grounding. In front of him, the Chief let out a quiet breath of relief but didn’t move closer. Genie stayed still too, patiently watching. 

The memories would come back of the times between their shifts or on days off. Just hours at the dog park playing fetch and being happy. Warm sunlight, open spaces, tall grass. The distant hum of the city was softened by trees and wind. 

Knight smiled at him as he held the ball, stretching out his arm. “Let's keep going, partner. Are you ready?” Knight turned away as he swung his arm, throwing the ball. 

The memory started to shift, fading back into white. 

Cold floor. White walls. Chief and Nurse Genie are looking at him. Greg closed his eyes to breathe, still hitched. But the memory stayed with him. 

Let’s keep going, partner. 

Greg wallowed hard, a soft whimper leaving him. His fingers shifted slightly against the ball, more deliberate and less clumsy. 

His ears were still low, but no longer in fear. He was thinking. More so, letting a thought settle. 

Let’s do this together. 

Knight

Greg held the ball in one hand again as he used the other to push himself off the floor. The movement was awkward and unbalanced this time. He took deep breaths to keep the panic down when he shifted his weight wrong. He adjusted and tried again. 

His body wobbled as he tried to balance on his legs, unfamiliar with the whole weight change. He managed to drop the ball on the bed so he could steady his arms to hold himself up out of thin air. Before he could lose control again, the Chief stepped in carefully at his side. 

“Easy…I got you.” He said, holding one of Greg’s arms as Nurse Genie came to his other arm. 

Greg flinched at the first contact, mainly out of instinct, but showed a small smile to let them know he was okay. Shaking but more secure, he took a few more steps. 

I can still do this…

Greg lifted his head again, moving his arms to free himself from the chief's and nurse's support. Still close by, but he wanted to try on his own again. His posture held with more stability. 

I promise, Knight, I won’t waste this chance. 

Deep into the city, away from the white walls and monitor beeping, in a cluttered lair lit by flickering lights and humming machines, Petey sat alone. 

The screens around him glowed with half-finished plans and looping bits of surveillance footage he wasn’t really watching. Tools lay scattered around with wires hung loosely. Sure, his lair was a mess, but it was always organized, not like this. A single TV played in the background, playing who knows what. Petey was tuning it out. The usual sharp order of his mind had slipped into quiet disarray. 

Butler sat quietly on a computer console nearby. He was starting to get concerned for his creator. He had never seen the cat like this before, yet remained close by if the tabby needed anything. 

Petey slunk into his chair, lost in his thoughts of the explosion. “..it was supposed to be small,” he muttered to himself, how many times now. As if saying it could change things that day. 

He kept replying to it over and over to the point he was trembling. At first, he was shocked and scrambled to do what he could to see if they lived or died. When he got back to his lair, he felt excitement, no more annoying cops to worry about, and now to have some fun. Yet as the minutes went by, the dark thoughts started to loom. 

It’s not like he killed before. Nothing official or on purpose before on record at least. This was just an accident with a horrible result. 

Petey slid off the chair and began pacing, his tail low and restless. “ It’s their fault for following me in the first place…they were supposed to walk away.” Knight’s and Greg’s faces flickered in his memory.  He shook his head, growling to himself about thinking about them. 

Butler's soft beep got Petey's focus out of his dark thoughts. Petey glanced at them briefly, then quickly looked at the TV monitor the mouse had mentioned. 

“- Breaking News out of Ohkay City. This is Sarah Hatoff receiving confirmation that an officer has survived the warehouse explosion caused by Petey the Cat-” 

Petey’s ears twitched as he and Butler stared at the screen. 

“They’re alive?...” was all he could manage to say as he stepped closer. He was certain he saw Greg's body crushed under concrete slabs, but his head was curled around Knight's body like a shield. However, the human’s head was slammed and pinned under a steel beam. There was no way they could have survived. Who survived? The dog? The man? 

The screen showed in the corner a police portrait of Greg, probably when he first joined the force. 

“...the dog survived?” he whispered. There could have been a slim chance his body wasn't as bad under the rubble, but- 

He was cut off by the news again. 

“Officer Greg is currently under watch after the result of an emergency procedure sanctioned by Mayor Marlena.” Sarah's voice tightened, but she kept a calm demeanor for the audience watching. “ Officials are referring to this as Project Dogman. Making the first dog humanoid hybrid-”

Humanoid hybrid. Petey zoned out anything else the reporter said as he glanced down at his hand. He doesn’t know when cats evolved to have a humanoid figure, but he knows dogs never evolved more than what they are now. So what did this mean, giving a dog a humanoid form? “Butler!” he snapped, closing his hand into a fist. The small mouse squeaked, still on top of a monitor. “Find anything you can on Project Dogman. I don’t care how long it takes, just do it.” He ordered coming back to his desk. Watching the small robotic mouse scramble to inject his tail to a monitor and start searching. Once he saw the mouse focused on his work, he paced away, thoughts dragging behind him. “Project Dogman…”

“Dogman.” His tail flickered, uncertain about the word. 

He couldn't jump to thoughts or theories till he knew more. But the more he thought about this humanoid information, the more a pit in his stomach grew. 

How different will this dog be now? Does he remember what happened? What he did? The chase. The warehouse. The bomb.

Knight.

Petey’s ears lowered as he crossed his arms, coming to a stop in his pacing to look out the window. Staring at nothing in particular in the dark city alleyways. Of course, he’ll know it was him; a dog's scent is never wrong. Could he tell him he didn't mean for this to happen? Would it even matter? His claws dug into his arms. 

“Doesn’t matter…can’t fix this…mess…”

Petey's voice hardened, trying to hide the doubt that lingered. He straightened himself, forcing his posture back into something firmer. Taller. Control. 

The city already feared him as a bad guy; what's to change their view with the label of murderer on his record? Greg would come after him no matter what if he was still on the force. This is how it worked. Petey took a steady breath in “If this …dogman comes after me.” 

He moved from the window to a nearby blackboard and wiped the contents of the board clear with his arm, making a space to write. Picking up some chalk and started planning. “So be it.”