FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

If you still want me

Please forgive me

Because the spark is not within me

(Arcade Fire)

---

Reynard sat on a couch in the entryway to the hospital ward, a clear plastic bag full of his belongings next to him and his black hooked cane propped up against the wall. He smiled at me as I sat down beside him. Though it was technically upholstered, the couch was sorely wanting for cushioning.

"I'm here to get you out of here," I whispered conspiratorially out of the corner of my mouth, glancing from side to side. "If we play it cool, keep it on the down-low, the nurses won't suspect a thing,"

"Hell, they probably want me to get my gimpy tail out of here as soon as possible. Stat. That way I won't bother them any more," Reynard snorted wryly.

"That means I get you all to myself, then," I replied, giving the arctic fox a peck on the cheek. "Better that way,"

Pushing off the couch, I turned to Reynard, offering him a helping hand. He ignored it, grasping for his cane and struggling to his feet on his own. The doctor was definitely right--he seemed to be making steady (if slow) progress on his motor skills.

"Thanks, but I can get up on my own," Reynard insisted gently but firmly.

"Of course," I smiled, nodding.

When last I met with Dr. Wesson, she told me to expect something along these lines. I certainly couldn't say as I blamed Reynard for his insistent defense of his independence. I couldn't imagine what it was like for him to lose so many of his basic skills and have to re=learn almost everything from square one.

The possibility existed that he would never fully regain complete independence. I had to be prepared to assist and support him in day-to-day life. I didn't care how much I had to do, or how difficult it might turn out to be. I was just glad to have my Reynard back.

"Shall we get this show on the road, then?" I asked, fastening the buttons of my long coat.

"Lead the way," Reynard replied, leaning on his cane for support.

As we sat on the metal bench at the bus stop, trying to avoid eye contact with the bedraggled beagle shuffling back and forth next to the shelter, I slipped my hand into Reynard's. He rested his chin on his cane, staring at the rush-hour traffic as it crawled by.

"Looking forward to going home?" I asked.

"I'm just glad to get away from that ward," Reynard replied.

"Well, we'll get you home just as soon as we can,"

"So, next century when the bus finally arrives?"

"Hey, it wouldn't be Saaduuts without terrible rush-hour traffic," I chuckled.

"Not going to disagree with that," Reynard snorted, shaking his head.

The traffic was something of a blessing in disguise, though. I just hoped it gave Morgan enough time to finish her preparations for Reynard's welcome-home party. Hell, with that amount of time, she ought to be able to make the party of the goddamn year. About the toughest thing for me was keeping my fat mouth shut about the whole thing. I've never been that good at secrets.

"Tell you what," I said. "I'll make you a nice dinner when we get home. How does that sound?"

"Sounds amazing. I'm starving," Reynard declared. "Even your cooking is better than the hospital's mess hall. They have quite a way with gelatinous masses,"

"I'll take that as a compliment, I suppose," I replied, shaking my head.

"I've fucking seen things," Reynard said theatrically. "Or, rather, eaten things, I suppose,"

"Ah, here we are," I nodded, glancing up as the metro bus as it pulled up to the stop. "Hey, we can finally get those handicapped seats at the front now!" I grinned, punching Reynard on the shoulder. "Knew this whole thing would be good for something,"

"Glad I can help," Reynard rolled his eyes.

Stepping onto the bus, I paid the fare and took my seat beside Reynard. We sped off towards our apartment and Reynard's surprise party.

*****

As per usual, the door to Morgan's office stood propped open. Yet all the same, I tapped tentatively on the doorframe, shuffling from foot to foot.

"Come in," Morgan said crisply.

I found the pine marten tapping away at her computer as I entered. She glanced up, fixing me with her inscrutable gaze, magnified by the thick-framed glasses perched on her slim muzzle.

"Can I help you?" she asked. Her expression was indecipherable.

"Just swinging by to drop off the files you requested," I mumbled. "But I couldn't find the stack of--"

"--It's fine," Morgan interjected, her voice strained. "We'll worry about that later. Listen. Where are you at with that, ah, project of yours? Are you at a place where you could make some sort of presentation on it?"

"It's still very much a prototype," I replied, rubbing the back of my head and staring at my shoes. "I want to run a few more confirmatory tests before making any formal announcemen--"

"Good. In that case, I need you be the keynote for the R&D portion of next week's general meeting,"

"General meeting!?" I burst out, unable to conceal my incredulity. "But... but I've barely got a prototype. I mean... keynote? I haven't ever done anything like that before. You can't expect me to do that," I persisted, a hint of desperation in my voice.

"Don't think of it as a keynote. It isn't, really. Just a turn of phrase. You'll just be giving a status update on how it's coming along," Morgan said, her tone carefully measured.

I couldn't do much more than stare at her, brows knitted in nervous concern.

"We've gone to meetings with less plenty of times before," Morgan insisted gently. She looked fully at me for the first time during our conversation. I could see that her eyes were a little damp. "Truth is, your work is the only thing we have going for us at present.

"We need to put our best foot forward next week. Impress the muckity-mucks up at the top of this outfit.

"I've had my ear to the ground and I'm starting to get worried they're thinking about cutting our funding pretty severely. Rumblings about productivity and all of that bullshit,"

Morgan leaned back in her chair, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. Her fingers fidgeted with her pen, transferring hand to hand.

"They don't know this area. They don't know how hard it is to make any progress at all, much less churn out shit like clockwork.

"I feel like I have a lot to prove. This section-leadership thing is still really new to me. I don't want to be the one to sink the ship, you know?

"So I'm worried, Tal. But I believe in this project and I... believe in you, too," Morgan finished with a none-too-reassuring half smile. Her hands were clenched nervously into fists on top of her keyboard.

"Well... I... sure," I nodded in defeat.

I nodded once or twice, just because it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. At first, I'd believed that Morgan's request had been some sort of passive-aggressive way to get back at me for our apparently-not-a-date. But I could see now that the marten was genuinely scared. She was in over her head; maybe I could help in my own way with this presentation.

"Alright. I'll do it," I said softly.

Morgan nodded fractionally, still looking up at the ceiling. The pen slipped through her fingers, clattering to the tiled floor.

"I... I'm sorry about the other night," I mumbled. "Whatever I did wrong,"

"Oh,"

We remained like that for a few moments, stewing in awkward silence. Morgan leaned over to pick up her fallen pen, scooting forward in her chair.

"So... you going to Reynard's big welcome-home party tonight?" Morgan asked as she straightened up, the first to break the silence.

"Yeah, I figure so," I replied. "Nice to get out of the apartment for once. You?"

"Well, I'm sorta organizing the whole thing, so I probably ought to be there," the marten smiled wryly.

"Should be fun, then,"

"Yeah. I guess,"

More silence.

I wanted to say something to somehow make everything that had gone wrong disappear. But instead I turned around and walked back out the door.

*****

The corner of the mat in front of our apartment door was turned up as Reynard and I walked down the hall. Good. That meant everything was set. I didn't need to try and somehow buy time.

Pulling my keys out of my pocket, I eased open the door, ushering Reynard into the darkness of the apartment.

"Could you get the light?" I grunted, fumbling in my pocket for nothing in particular.

Reynard obliged, reaching out and flipping on the light switch.

"SURPRISE!"

Reynard just about toppled over in shock as a dozen or so voices shouted in unison. The living room ceiling light illuminated a space crowded with smiling faces. A hand-lettered banner attached to the wall read WELCOME HOME REYNARD in block letters and a few balloons jostled and nudged against the ceiling. Food and plenty of booze was laid out on our dining table.

Reynard stared in shocked silence at the whole scene, steadying himself with his cane.

"Everyone wanted to welcome you back," I murmured in Reynard's ear, a smile playing on my lips. "We're all so proud of your hard work in PT,"

"I--I don't know what to say," Reynard croaked, still seeming a little unsteady on his feet.

"You don't have to say anything at all," I replied, giving him a peck on the cheek as I brushed past. "You just have to eat, drink, and have some fun,"

Morgan and whatever minions she had enlisted for the task had certainly put together quite the spread. As people began to jostle around, approaching Reynard and mingling with one another, I filled up a cup with dark, strong beer and busied myself with a plate of cold cuts.

"The look on that arctic fox's face when he turned on the lights. Fucking priceless," Guillam guffawed as he walked up to me, clapping me on the back. He was dressed more casually than I was used to, trading in his usual dark suit for a Mouse Rat T-shirt and jeans. "Apparently you are capable of keeping your mouth shut once in a while, after all,"

"I practically had to duct tape my mouth shut on the bus ride home," I confessed, rolling my eyes as I took a draft of my beer. "Glad you could make it out, Peter,"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," the other fox grinned. "Well, Warren was a pretty big factor in the whole thing. Wouldn't shut up about it all day,"

"He's probably just here because he figured there would be free food," I shook my head.

Guillam glanced over at my twin brother, standing on the far end of the table, stuffing little quiche things into his mouth.

"You aren't wrong there," he snorted. "Eats like a fucking vacuum and never shows it. Whatever genes you guys have, I want 'em,"

"Blessings of a quick metabolism. Or something," I shrugged, scanning the room as I polished off the rest of my beer.

It was good to see such a great turnout for Reynard's party. I smiled to myself as I refilled my cup. For a little, I'd been worried that it would just be the two of us and a weirdo or two for good measure. But it was a good crowd. Scratch that, mostly good. My face fell as I glanced towards a group standing near the windows at the far end of the room.

"Hey, lemme catch you up later," I punched Guillam on the shoulder. "Gotta take care of something,"

Gotta take out the trash, I sniffed inwardly as I stalked toward the window alcove.

Leaning against the window frame, swigging from an amber beer bottle was Andy. Dressed in a slim grey suit, the jackal was chatting with a couple of people I didn't recognize--most likely work associates of Reynard's. Andy turned to look at me as I approached, grinning amiably at me.

"What in the hell are you doing here?" I hissed through gritted teeth.

"Wishing Reynard a warm welcome home, of course," Andy replied, his voice light and innocent. "Wanted to show my support, that's all,"

"Get the fuck out of here," I snarled, my voice low. "We don't need you around,"

"I don't recall you having an issue with me a little while ago," Andy replied coolly, the hint of a smirk flickering across his lips.

Reacting impulsively, I slammed Andy up against the wall, my forearm across his stupid, smug windpipe. Beer sloshed around the cup clutched in my other hand. I glowered over at the people with whom Andy had been talking. They cleared off.

"I'm not going to tell you this again," I hissed in Andy's ear. "You aren't going to say another word. You're going to walk your tailless ass out of the apartment and you aren't going to say another word to Reynard until you're at work tomorrow,"

Andy took my wrist in his hand, moving my arm away effortlessly.

"No need to get all in a lather," Andy rumbled. "You know what I could do if the whim struck me? I could... well, you know what? Not worth the time. I was leaving anyway. Catch ya later, foxy,"

I watched Andy breeze towards the entryway with arms folded across my chest. He picked up his overcoat and pulled it on as he opened the door. I could have sworn he turned and winked at me as he exited. Motherfucker.

Taking up the position where Andy had been leaning, I finished off my beer in two gulps. Damn. Now I _really_needed more.

"What the hell was that about?" Warren asked, walking over with Guillam.

"Just taking care of an... unwanted guest," I replied shortly, taking the bottle from Warren's hand and prompting a complaint.

"Wasn't that Andy?" he asked, arching a brow as I took a swig from his bottle.

"Well, he was getting unruly," I said.

"Er, if that's what you want to call it," Warren arched a brow. "Looks to me like you were the one getting pretty... unruly with him,"

"Don't worry about it," I insisted. "Last I checked, this was my place, not yours,"

"Sure thing," my brother said haltingly, though his expression seemed to indicate he didn't quite buy it.

"So, how's the hubby doing?" Guillam asked, eager to change the subject. "Enjoying the party?"

"I should probably go check on him, now that you mention that," I replied, turning and scouring the room for Reynard.

"Reunited with the old ball and chain," Warren grinned. "Glad I've avoided that so far,"

"Nice party, Roger," a rather inebriated looking bear slurred, addressing Warren.

"Er, I'll be sure to tell him that," Warren chuckled, jerking his head in my direction.

"But I--wait--whoa," the bear blinked in drunken disbelief as he looked back and forth between Warren and me. "Are you guys like twins or something?"

"Yep," Warren replied, grabbing me around the collar and giving me a noogie for absolutely no fucking reason. I grimaced a smile, trying to make my exit, but the bear was standing in my way.

"So are you guys, like, all into twincest or whatever it is?" he asked.

"Wow, he really went right directly there," I muttered in Warren's ear.

We'd gotten some weird questions before at parties, usually from folks after they'd had one or two too many, but typically they at least pretended to ask normal things of us first.

"Well, someone_did_ offer to pay us a hundred bucks to make out once," Warren shrugged, chuckling.

"Did you?"

"Fuck no!" I scowled while Warren sighed, "We should've,"

"Hey, easy way to make some cash," Warren shrugged as I shot him a dirty look.

"Well, this has been riveting and all, but I should go check in on Rey," I said, prying myself away from Warren and whoever the fuck this bear was. Seriously, who had invited him?

I found Reynard slumped on our couch, wedged between Morgan and a rather inebriated-looking lemming. Staring through glazed eyes into the middle distance, he was absentmindedly fiddling with his cane. Unceremoniously shoving the lemming off the couch, I plopped down next to Reynard, throwing my arm around his shoulders.

"Oh, hey there," Reynard said, shaking his head as if to clear it.

"How's it going?" I smiled. "Enjoying your party?"

"It--it's pretty nice," Reynard said without much conviction. He seemed a bit dazed.

"Is there something you don't like?" I asked. "Anything you want or need? This is all for you. So if you want anything, just say the word,"

"All I really want right now is to go to bed and for everything to be quiet," Reynard said, his tone a little heated.

"I--oh," I mumbled, a little taken aback.

Reynard shook his head. "That came out more harshly than I meant. I really appreciate all of this. It's great. I'm just pretty tired. I feel really tired a lot of the time of late,"

"Do you want me to kick these folks out? Because that can be arranged easily," I said.

"Oh, no. They're having fun. I just--I'll be in bed. Time for me to turn in, I think," Reynard grunted as he pushed himself to his feet.

I stood up with Reynard, my brow furrowed in concern. "Are you sure? Don't worry about it if you want me to clear out the crowd. It's no trouble. They'll understand,"

"I don't need... accommodation," Reynard insisted. "Enjoy yourself,"

"Reynard, you don't--" I followed a few steps after Reynard before giving up. Let him be, I figured. We could have our fun later.

"What's up with the hubby?" Warren asked, sauntering up and passing me a mug of beer. It was like he'd read my mind. "Reynard's usually quite the life of the party,"

"Long day for him," I shrugged. "Figured I'd let him get some rest,"

"I guess it's up to us lot to finish the spread, then," my brother sighed theatrically.

"I'm sure you'll manage to find a way to fight through these challenging times," Guillam rolled his eyes as he sipped on his drink.

I opened my mouth to say something doubtlessly clever and brilliant, but was interrupted by a buzzing in my breast pocket. Would I get a single moment to relax? I thought this was supposed to be a party.

"Wow, quite the social butterfly," Warren commented as I fumbled for my ringing mobile.

"It's my work phone," I groaned, producing the buzzing device.

A work call at this time of evening? Seriously? I didn't even recognize the number.

"Well, don't let us hold you up," Warren said, steering Guillam away.

"Smith-White," I grunted, putting the mobile to my ear as I tried to seek out a relatively quiet corner of the apartment.

This had better be good, whatever the fuck it is, I grumbled inwardly.

*****

Roger was subdued when he returned several minutes later. He sat down next to Guillam and I on the couch, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, massaging his temples with his fingertips.

"Hey, bro. What's going on?" I asked.

"I need a fucking drink," Roger muttered, staring intently at a spot on the floor.

Guillam leaned over, grabbing a bottle of beer from the nearby table and opening it before passing it over to Roger. "Bad news?"

Roger downed half the bottle in two swigs. He hesitated for a moment before polishing it off in a few more gulps.

"To call it bad news would be an understatement," he grunted.

"What's going on?" I asked, adopting a similar pose to my brother, leaning forward with elbows on knees.

"There's been an attack," he replied, eyes dull.

"Is it something you need to take care of now? I can take care of all the folks here if you need to go elsewhere,"

"Not here," Roger shook his head. "Over in Londinium. A dovess. A fucking gigantic dovess. Destroyed the Houses of Parliament and a good chunk of the surrounding area to boot,"

"But--but Londinium?" I said, brow furrowing.

"But that's all the way across the ocean," Guillam added helpfully. He always had been brilliant with geography.

"This couldn't have been... you know, natural, could it?" I asked.

"No, no," Roger shook his head, reaching over me for another bottle and the bottle opener. Guillam shot an inquisitive look at me but I shook my head. "Far as anyone's ever proven it, Saaduuts is the only place where this sort of... anomaly... exists," he continued after taking a few gulps. "It couldn't have been that sort of phenomenon all the way over in Londinium. Just not possible,"

"So it had to have been... induced," I asked, the (slightly booze-addled) cogs starting to turn in my head.

Roger shrugged. "Haven't a clue. Sure, I suppose,"

"Something to look into," I muttered, shooting a meaningful look at Guillam.

The cross fox squinted grouchily at me but offered no response.

"Well, bloody well do it. I've got enough on my plate as it is. They're going positively apoplectic over there, by all accounts. And guess who's being called in to marshal the troops, so to speak? This fox!" Roger snapped, gesturing at himself with his bottle and sloshing part of its frothy contents over his shirtfront. He groaned loudly, staring down at the mess.

"What do they expect you to do?" I asked, dabbing at the spill with a napkin.

"Well, they want to set up some sort of MACRO-like organization. Or train some personnel to take on extra duties. Or something. It was all very confusing. All I know is that I need to jet over there in a few days, and that I get no fucking say in the matter whatsoever,"

"Hey, look at the bright side. Paid vacation," I offered a tentative smile.

"I dunno about you, but I don't really count heading the organization of an entire new office a vacation," Roger grunted.

My brother tipped back the bottle, only to find it empty. He dropped it to the surface of the coffee table and grabbed at another. I took it before he could get to it.

"Maybe you ought to give that a rest," I cautioned.

"This is my fucking house. I can drink if I want to," Roger snarled.

"Hey, but as long as you're in Londinium, maybe you can pay Uncle Asher a visit!" I grinned, trying to alleviate the tension. "Maybe you can even get him to let you crash at his flat,"

"Oh, goodie. Asher. We haven't seen that fellow in how long now? Wonder if he's become any less... you know, Asher-y, since then," Roger rolled his eyes. "Look, I think it's about time we shut down this fucking party. Too many godsdamned people drinking all my fucking booze. And my fucking husband doesn't appreciate the fact that I've worked my damn tail off trying to make him feel welcome home,"

Roger's voice rose steadily as he went on, until he was almost shouting.

"Of course Rey appreciates it," I said, rubbing Roger's shoulders and trying to calm him down. "He's just exhausted. I would be too were I in his position. Got a lot going on with his PT and all that,"

"Not how it seemed to me," Roger growled. "You know, I'd really like a bit of appreciation for fucking anything I do once in a while. But no. All anyone asks--demands--is more, more, MORE!"

A number of the partygoers close to us stopped their conversations, staring over at Roger, who appeared as if he were about to either cry or punch something. Possibly both. Time to intervene.

"Alright. How about you get ready for bed and Guillam and I will get all these hooligans out of your pad. Maybe Rey isn't asleep yet, eh?" I winked, nudging Roger with my elbow.

"Whatever," Roger grunted, but complied, sliding off the couch and slinking towards the short hallway leading towards the bedroom.

The party was starting to lose steam as it was, anyway, so it wasn't all that difficult for Guillam and I to convince the stragglers to make their exits. Guillam made a half-hearted attempt at clearing away some of the bottles and plastic cups while I turned off the lights.

"This has Broken Arrow written all over it," I muttered to Guillam as we hurried down the stairs, a bag of bottles and cans clinking in my partner's grip.

"What?" Guillam frowned, perplexed. "You're gonna start seeing terrorists in your cereal if you aren't careful. Pretty sure Roger's just had a long day,"

"Huh? No. I'm talking about Dovezilla," I shook my head, pushing through the door at the foot of the stairs. A steady drizzle was falling as we stepped out into the alleyway behind Roger's apartment building.

"Don't be preposterous," the cross fox replied, dropping the bag into the large recycling bin leaning up against the wall of the apartment building. "They're a bunch of godsdamned terrorists. But I don't think they have the capabilities of enlarging someone to enormous sizes,"

"It's happened before," I shot back. "Remember Todd? He seemed to make something of a career out of making himself way the fuck too big. He wasn't associated with Broken Arrow, far as I know, but it's a small world and all that,"

Guillam's car was parked only a half a block away, which turned out to be a good thing as the rain started to pick up.

"Let it drop," Guillam replied softly but firmly, his eyes flashing. "You can't afford to become obsessed with this. Not now,"

"Alright, fine, Peter," I grunted, buckling my seatbelt. "I won't bring it up if you're gonna freak out like this,"

"Good," Guillam nodded as he put the car into gear and drove off down the street. "Let's just get some sleep so we can get a fresh start tomorrow. Clearer heads and all that fun stuff,"

"Sure,"

Yay. Gotta get some rest so I'm all systems go for more sitting on my ass and watching a street through a car window. Surveillance detail: the charmed life.

*****

Reynard lay sprawled in bed when I slipped into the darkened bedroom. I crossed the room in a few strides, letting my bathrobe slide off me and onto the floor as I slipped into bed. Not entirely certain why I'd bothered with the damned thing. It had seemed sexy at the time, but now that I thought about it, it was too dark to tell whether I was wearing a bathrobe, a three-piece suit, or nothing at all. Eh, well, I'd make it work.

"Fuck the party," I murmured in Reynard's ear, running my fingers through the dense silver fur of his stomach, fingertips playing against the waistband of his silken pyjama trousers. "Let's have our real reunion,"

Reynard stirred, rolling over so he was facing me. He blinked blearily once or twice.

"Rodge? What's going on?" he mumbled groggily.

"I figured you'd want to, you know, go for a tumble in the sheets," I grinned, biting my lip. "It's been way too long. And I miss you,"

I missed him a lot. I really did. And I thought that the best way to absolve my sins would be by having as much sex as possible with Reynard. Now _that_was some penance that I could get behind. In every sense of the term. Heh.

"Rodge..."

"C'mon," I pouted my lip out. "I got all sexy for you and everything,"

"You aren't wearing anything," Reynard pointed out.

"Can't think of anything sexier," I grinned.

"Your breath smells like booze," Reynard grunted, rolling over again.

"Sorry about that," I cooed, inwardly cursing myself for forgetting to pop a breath mint or two. I slid my hand underneath the waistband of Reynard's trousers, fondling him a little. "Let's have some fun,"

Taking his hand in mine, I guided it along my thigh. I shivered a little.

Reynard wasn't having any of it, though. Forcibly pulling away his hand, the arctic fox turned to face me. His face seemed pinched, struggling to find a balance between irritation and anguish.

"I don't want any of that," Reynard sighed. "Not tonight,"

"But why not?" I murmured, caressing his cheek. "Let's--let's just have fun,"

"Not tonight. I'm tired,"

"I'm going to Londinium very soon. I want to make the most of my time before I have to go away,"

"You're what?" Reynard's eyes went wide.

"There's been an... event, and I've been requested--ordered--to help coordinate a response,"

"What?" Reynard blinked.

"I know. It's only going to be a couple of weeks, tops. Probably less. But I have to go alone--budget and all that. And I'm scared. Oh, fuck..."

Reynard kissed me gently. "I'm sorry to hear that,"

"So I kinda want to fuck your brains out before I have to leave. You aren't going to make me the sex-crazed one, are you? That's always been your job," I teased.

Reynard evidently didn't get the joke, as he burst into tears.

"I feel broken," he sobbed. "I am broken. Roger, I don't know how to do basic things any longer. Walking, writing, driving... I can do more of them now, or I'm getting better at them, but it's all so hard.

"I'm shit at my job now. I tried sewing, but I couldn't even thread the needle without help, and after that I mostly just stabbed myself in the thumb. I'm fucking useless.

"But that isn't the half of it. I don't remember some things any longer. Everything that happened before I got--before my... injury--I don't remember any of it. Rodge, there are things I don't remember about us. And that scares me. So I can't... I can't,"

Reynard rolled over again, this time with an air of finality. I could hear him crying softly, his shoulders shaking. I wanted to say something to comfort him, but my brain was too muddled. Giving up, I buried my muzzle in the soft fur of his back, trying to reacquaint myself with his scent.

*****

"I thought you said you were dropping this," Guillam snapped.

The car sat parked in front of the Fox and Flowers again. Same street, same drizzly weather, same pub. Only the driver had changed. Bet Guillam was kicking himself for letting me have control of the wheel this morning.

"Well, there are only so many streets in West Saaduuts. Pretty small neighborhood," I shrugged innocently.

"What the hell are you playing at, Warren?" the cross fox hissed, leaning closer to me and resting his hand on the steering wheel. "I thought we had this straight last night. We keep our heads low. We don't rock the boat. We do our stupid job, nothing more, nothing less. And then they move us back into what we really ought to be doing, what we're good at,"

"For one thing, I was drunk at the time. For another, you're probably the worst person I know at getting things 'straight'," I snorted.

"Wow. Didn't think you'd go there," Guillam rolled his eyes.

"But really. We need to follow up in light of these new developments. And we have a suspect. It's our obligation to follow up,"

"Suspect? Developments?" Guillam threw his arms into the air, smacking his hands against the ceiling of the car. "Listen to yourself. You're grasping at straws. You saw a sketchy guy and then heard about some crazy shit happening in a city on the other side of the fucking planet. Those are not enough to warrant 'follow-up',"

"So you aren't willing to take chances? I thought you got into this job to take risks once in a while,"

"There's a difference between taking a risk and making a fucking stupid decision," Guillam sniffed.

"Look. We nail this guy, take him in for questioning. This all goes to shit, it's on me. Alright?" I assured Guillam.

Guillam fixed me with an inscrutable squint. This wasn't going to be an easy sell. I was a bit puzzled. Ordinarily, he wasn't such a heel-dragger.

"I'll even let you conduct the interrogation," I added, throwing him a bone. He fucking loved those things, for whatever reason.

Guillam pursed his lips, but I knew I'd won him over, if somewhat grudgingly.

"All right, fine," he sniffed, leaning back in his seat. "But we don't even know if he'll come back here again,"

"Already taken care of," I grinned, jerking my head in the direction of the end of the block.

Walking down the sidewalk towards us was the panther we'd seen during our last outing. Guillam nodded to me, slipping quietly out of the car and heading in the opposite direction, walking towards the panther but on the opposite side of the street. I waited a few moments before stepping out of the car as well, slowly crossing the street towards the pub.

As the panther approached, Guillam circled around behind him. Boom. Sandwich. Action time.

"MX4!" I barked, pulling out my badge as I turned towards the panther, hastening towards him.

Before the panther could even fully process what was going on, I had him pressed against the wall of the florist's shop situated next to the Fox and Flowers. Guillam stepped up, snapping cuffs over his wrists.

"All right, you're coming with us," I snapped, wheeling him around towards the car. "We've got some questions for you to answer,"

*****

Tabitha's home was impossible to miss. It sat alone on a large lot at the end of a long cul-de-sac. For whatever reason, no homes had been built near the vacant lot prior to the construction of her home, but it was certain that none would be likely to be built now that she was there.

A row of small, scraggly trees lined the perimeter of the lot like a hedgerow. They were barren of leaves now, in the dead of winter, and I could see through to the lawn and the enormous house beyond. A half dozen or so tents were erected on the lawn, accompanied by several dozen people, some listlessly holding signs and others hanging around in groups talking to one another, their shoulders hunched against the chill. A few held their hands over oil-drum fires, rubbing them together now and again. The protestors. I had forgotten about them until just then.

For a moment, I wanted to turn around and leave, if only so that I didn't have to walk past all of those protestors. But that wasn't an option. I had made a promise to Roger and to Tabitha that I would visit her. No backing out of that, no matter how uncomfortable the approach.

Few of the protestors paid me much heed as I trudged up the sloping gravel path that led to Tabitha's stoop. Perhaps they thought I was one of them, or maybe they were so bored of the whole thing they didn't give a damn. I scrambled up the steps, each one of them taller than me, but fitted with a ladder for the convenience of people of less gigantic size than the homeowner.

My hand trembled a little as I went to ring the doorbell fitted into the molding of the great door. Snap out of it, I chided myself. If you're nervous, Tabitha is too, and you can't let her think you don't want to see her.

I heard a click as the lock on the smaller door set within Tabitha's own door came open. Tentatively, I turned the knob and pushed it open, stepping into the cavernous semi-dark space within.

It had been some time since I'd been there last, and it took me a few moments to reacquaint myself with the room, much less the sheer scale of it all. The bed, the dresser, the table and makeshift kitchen, all in the same places they'd been every time I'd visited in the past, yet all somehow different.

Tabitha sat slumped on her bed, one leg draped across the bedspread and the other dangling over the edge. Her head rested on the pillow. I could see her looking back at me, but somehow her gaze seemed avoidant nonetheless.

"Hi, Tab," I offered in something approaching a mumble.

"Hi, Ciaran," Tabitha replied, her legs curling around as she sat up a little.

I hurried across the room, clambering up the set of ladders and stairs leading to the top of Tabitha's bedside table. She reclined on her side with her cheek propped up on her hand, her face level with the surface of the nightstand.

"We should talk," I said, the sentence coming out more a question than a statement, my voice frail and tremulous.

"Isn't that what we're here for?" she said softly, blinking a couple times.

"I just... well..."

Suddenly, I had no idea what I was supposed to say. How was I supposed to begin? What was an appropriate way to start this sort of conversation?

"I'm sorry," Tabitha mumbled, sparing me the need to think of anything. "For everything. I've been really shitty. Everything I did and said at the compound when you all came for me. It was all fucking awful,"

"I don't think we can take anything that happened there at face value," I replied after a pause.

"You don't need to say that just to make me feel better," Tabitha said, shaking her head. "I don't need that,"

"I'm not," I replied. I sat down heavily on the tabletop. Time to lay out all the cards, I supposed. "I was really scared that whole time. Terrified. I thought you were going to kill me. And what really scared me was that you could have quite easily. You could kill me right now, if you wanted, just reach out and smash me flat,"

"I would never do that," Tabitha breathed, her eyes going wide.

"I know that," I sighed. "But still, a lot of me has been really terrified about that sort of thing. I couldn't bring myself to face you, to take that risk.

"But then I saw all of the people out front, screaming and yelling for retribution. None of them know you like I do. They don't know how you really are,"

"Ciaran, I destroyed an entire town," Tabitha's ears sagged and her shoulders slumped. "They know just enough about me,"

"That wasn't you," I insisted.

I wasn't certain who I had convinced less, Tabitha or myself. Tabitha's eyes welled with tears and she rolled over, turning her back on me.

"It happened," I said softly. "There's no denying that. But now we have to take the next steps. Put it behind us. Recover,"

"How am I supposed to do that?" Tabitha said into the wall.

"I don't know," I admitted softly. "But maybe we can figure something out. Help each other,"

Tabitha slowly sat up again, her shoulders resting against the headboard. She looked down at me, her expression indecipherable.

"Pick me up," I blurted.

"What?" a frown flitted across the ferretess' face.

"Pick me up," I replied. "Touch me. I'm not scared of you. You shouldn't be scared of me, either,"

Shifting, I got to my feet, looking imploringly up at Tabitha. She looked back at me. Her arm shifted and she slowly reached out towards me. Her hand hovered in front of me, fingers curling inward. I remained still, waiting for her to make the move. But it never came. She withdrew her hand in a hurry folding her hands in her lap and staring intently at her knees.

"I can't," she mumbled.

"It's alright," I cooed softly, trying to conceal my own disappointment. "It's alright. You'll be comfortable with me again soon enough,"

Tabitha nodded stiffly, her gaze not meeting mine.

"What do you want to talk about?" I asked. "We can talk about anything you like. Or nothing at all,"

"I don't think I've been this scared and worried since--since when this first happened to me," Tabitha mumbled, hugging her legs to her chest and talking into her knees.

"What do you mean?" I asked softly.

"We were out on the playfields for gym class. Lacrosse, I think it was. I'd felt kinda crummy all day--low-grade head cold sort of thing. But then, out there on the field, I started to feel really awful. And then... this happened," Tabitha said dully, gesturing at herself.

"I had no idea what was going on," she continued. "Everything was so small and everyone was running every which way and freaking out. I didn't know what to do. My heart felt like it would explode out of my chest, it was racing so fast.

"So I ran away. It seemed the only thing to do. Run, and keep running until you couldn't run any longer. The forest near my school afforded me some sort of cover, so I stayed there. I sat there in the miniature woods and I cried. It was all I could think to do. Sit there and cry. I didn't know what was happening to me or why, I just knew that I was alone and terrified.

"I sorta feel that way now, I guess, is all,"

"Except this time around, I'm here to work through it with you," I murmured softly. "I've always been there for you, and always will be. I promise you that. Because that's how it ought to be, I suppose. You deserve that much from me, and I owe that much to you.

"That won't make the folks on your doorstep disappear, but maybe with the help of Dr. Attwood and all that, we can show them that you aren't what they believe you to be. Because you aren't a monster or something terrible like that. You're just Tabitha, and that's all. Nothing more, nothing less. Okay?"

"Okay," Tabitha replied hesitantly. I think I saw the faint hint of a smile flicker across her lips for a moment.