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Hey, everybody. Sorry, I finished writing two days ago, started typing last night, but it was late and stuff, so I'm posting this now. I'm not sure if this one's as good as part two, but I really wanted the event to happen, so here it is. Enjoy (I hope)!

---

_ BEEP, BEEP, BEEP! _

Mike groggily slammed his hand onto his alarm clock. He felt around for a moment and with a push finally brought silence to the room. He glanced at the red numbers: 10:36. This was his fifth time hitting the snooze button. He yawned expansively and sat up. Mike had gotten back to his apartment so late that he hadn't bothered bringing out the hide-a-bed and had instead slept on the couch fully clothed. He could have benefited from a few more hours of sleep, but he worked in an hour and a half, so he dragged his lazy butt out of bed and went to shower. He knew from experience that he would spend far too long in a hot shower, so he deliberately left the water cold and quickly jumped into the icy stream. After the usual yelp the chill helped him wake up, and he was in and out in ten minutes rather than a half hour or so.

He had finished drying off and was in the process of finding his uniform when a knock sounded on the door. "One minute!" he called, quickly donning a bath robe. "I'm coming!" The wolf rubbed some sleep out of his eyes and opened the door without checking the peephole.

As the door was opening, his mind flashed back on his reoccurring nightmare. For a moment fantasy overcame reality, and Mike nearly hyperventilated. The present won out, though, and he recognized the landlord at the door. Fortunately, the older raccoon didn't seem to notice Mike's moment of panic.

"Hello," Mike said, recovering. "What can I do ya for?"

"Hey, Mike. Just wondering about the rent...."

"Oh, crap," Mike said, slapping himself in the forehead. "I totally forgot. Umm... I can give you fifty now, and today is pay day, so I'll have the rest this evening."

"Don't worry too much about it. Just try to get it in on time next time."

"Thanks, Mr. Roper."

"Please," the raccoon said as he smiled and turned away. "Mister makes me feel old."

Mike shut the door and went back to getting ready, feeling slightly guilty about the rent. His pay days didn't always line up well with the day the rent was due, and he was tight for money despite the occasional over-generous tippers. Speaking of which, if I don't get a move on, I won't get any tips at all, the wolf thought to himself. With that thought in mind, he began to search more earnestly for his uniform.

*

It had taken him a long time to find his right shoe, but Mike arrived at Smitty's at ten to twelve. If there was one thing the managers loved, it was punctual servers. Mike was still a little out of it, but five minutes on the floor would cure that. Overall, he wasn't doing too badly considering the late hours he had kept. He put a smile on his face and strode into a maze of talk, laughter, and wonderful aromas. He put his coat in the back and looked at the tables on which he would be waiting. Then, ensuring there was an easy smile on his face, he walked out into the throng.

What followed consisted of non-stop motion: taking orders, refilling drinks, grabbing food, picking up menus, checking ID (honestly, who orders a draught at lunch?), and giving out bills, all while avoiding spills, bumps, and outstretched legs. Mike was in the swing of things when he saw Nick walk in through the door. They exchanged smiles, but didn't have time for a proper greeting amidst the lunch rush. The rush was made worse by the constant reminder that Mike hadn't eaten anything yet. Fortunately, he was disciplined enough to not sneak any food off of the plates. Management frowned on that. Severely.

Mike somehow survived the worst of it and amazed everyone, including himself, when he saved a plate of nachos that were almost knocked to the floor. It was fortunate that he hadn't been holding anything at the time. It had the added benefit of a good tip from the table he was serving nearby. Mike was concerned that his feet would fall off, though, when two o'clock rolled around and the worst was over.

"Why did I take this job?" he moaned rhetorically to Nick as they passed each other in the kitchen.

"My sparkling personality?" Nick hypothesized.

Mike simply rolled his eyes at the ridiculous statement and continued to wait on the one occupied table in his section.

The wolf managed to get a small bite during a break in the slower afternoon shift. It wasn't much, but it would stop him from drooling all over the dishes he was serving. Despite the odd hour there were still some customers to serve, which Mike did with enthusiasm disproportionate to his energy. Every time the two passed each other, Nick flashed a broad smile at Mike, which prompted a grin in return. Mike found Nick's perpetual happy-go-lucky attitude, so reminiscent of Mike in his younger years, to be incredibly infectious. Whenever he didn't feel like smiling through a customer's complaint (Of course there's no pink in your steak. You asked for well done.), he would remember the cheetah's antics and bear the tirade rather than punch the inconsiderate cur in the face like he wanted to.

It slowed even further around three, and Mike gratefully took an opportunity to get off of his poor feet. He allowed his smile to fall off his face and panted slightly. A manager walking by chuckled at the wolf's posture: slumped in a chair with his tongue hanging out. "Only five more hours," he called out cheerfully.

"Only," Mike snorted. "Wake me up when it's over."

"Ha!" the manager guffawed. "Good one!"

Mike liked the restaurant when it was quiet with a few customers hanging around. Too busy, and he felt overwhelmed like a dinghy in a typhoon. Conversely, too slow, and Mike was bored. Also, if the managers caught a server without anything to do, they assigned cleaning duties. Mike preferred serving.

Things continued much the same with business picking up more around four o'clock. Mike was doing pretty steady work without the rush and didn't have to work to maintain a smile or keep a positive attitude. He liked his job. Apparently, his customers enjoyed his work too. He got decent tips from all but the stingiest of furs. The managers weren't shy about giving Mike a lot of hours because of his work ethic, which was great for the wolf. He could really use the money. Property tax had gone up, and that had increased the rent on his already overpriced apartment. Mike couldn't remember the last time he had bought breakfast food. He had never been much of a breakfast person, and it cut costs to simply ignore it entirely. Mike had actually bought a sewing kit and had looked up basic lessons in sewing on the library's computers to save money on clothes. Little rips could be repaired with thread more cheaply than buying replacements. He was actually pretty good at it now, and people didn't notice without close inspection.

None of that was on the forefront of Mike's mind as he finished cleaning off a table. He took the cleaning cloth back to the kitchen and noticed Nick getting ready to leave. "Four thirty?" he asked.

"Yep. Time to go home and go back to bed."

"Lazy bum," Mike laughed. They headed back to the kitchen door together, Nick going home and Mike going to work. They were laughing as they got to the swinging kitchen door. Upon stepping out into the restaurant, however, Mike's mirth died instantly and was replaced by shock and panic. He instinctively jumped back through the still swinging kitchen door and leaned against a counter, breathing heavily. Nick took a moment to notice his friend's sudden disappearance, still chuckling over their repartee. He was puzzled when he noticed that Mike was no longer beside him. The cheetah stepped back into the kitchen and saw that Mike was close to hyperventilating. A closer look revealed that his eyes were tearing and his face was deathly pale beneath his fur. Puzzlement was replaced by concern, and Nick rushed over to his friend.

"My God, Mike, are you okay?" Nick asked. He was almost panicked himself over Mike's abrupt mood change. "What happened? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Mike couldn't respond. He could hardly breathe. He felt a tear rolling down his cheek, but he was still too much in shock to care. His breath caught in his throat, and he bent over, coughing. He almost fell over, but Nick grabbed him and held him upright. The wolf felt physically sick.

Nick's concern morphed into worry. The wolf had gone from cheerful to deathly afraid in seconds. At least, Nick thought it was fear. He couldn't tell what triggered the episode. "Breathe, man, breathe!" he said, trying to calm his friend.

A manager walked into the kitchen at that moment. His eyes were quickly drawn to the scene and in a moment he had an arm around the wolf offering support. Mike had stopped coughing, but he was still breathing heavily and shivering every couple of seconds. "Jesus, what happened?" the German Shorthaired Pointer asked the pair.

"I wish I knew," Nick said, worry evident in his eyes.

"I'm all right. I'm all right," Mike managed to get out. He had regained his breath and was regaining control of his body. "I was just a bit... surprised, that's all."

"Surprised?" Nick asked incredulously. "I thought you'd need CPR!"

Mike took a few deep breaths through his nose.

"Maybe you should go home, son," the Pointer said. "You don't look too good."

"No, really, I'm fine. I just... saw some people I didn't expect to see."

Nick was confused further by this statement. Who could cause such a panic? he wondered.

"Well, if you're sure," the manager said doubtfully.

"Could I... could I switch with someone on the bar side?" Mike asked. "I really don't want them to see me. Just for an hour or so."

"Sure," the Pointer said. "I'll see if there's someone who will switch with for a while." He walked out, leaving Nick with one arm still around the wolf.

"You sure you're okay? I've never seen anyone that pale before."

"No, I'm good," Mike insisted. Nick noticed Mike's colour was returning.

"Well, if you're sure," the cheetah said, unconsciously echoing their manager. "Who did you see? You'd think it was a serial killer based on your reaction. Should I be worried?"

"No," Mike replied, not responding to Nick's attempt at levity. "Just... people," he concluded, somewhat lamely.

The manager came back. Mike switched with Vicky and forced a smile before heading out into the bar. Nick was still concerned for his friend, but there wasn't anything he could do. He resolved to call the wolf after his shift was over and stepped out into the restaurant. As he headed for the door, he looked around to try and see if he could spot the source of Mike's discomfort. It wasn't too crowded, so his eyes slid over the patrons with ease. A tiger and a panther shared one table, and a group consisting of three huskies and a lion shared another. Wolves filled a table of four, and Nick saw an avian of some kind chatting with a horse. Odd, Nick thought_. _ You don't see many avians around here. No one stood out as the obvious cause of Mike's distress, so Nick merely sighed and was about to leave when he did a double take. He thought he had glimpsed Mike out of the corner of his eye.

A second glance showed he was wrong. It was a female wolf at the table of four. Longer hair and the jut of her breasts confirmed that it was certainly not Mike. There was a resemblance, though...

Oh my God, Nick thought. He realized the implications. That had to be Mike's family at the table.

He took a closer look. The one he had taken for Mike was obviously his sister. Anita, Nick guessed from their conversation the night before. She didn't look much older than Mike. The oldest wolf had to be his dad. Nick could see some resemblance there, but nowhere near as uncanny as the female. The palest grey wolf was probably his brother. That left the black wolf. Nick supposed that was Anita's husband. He thought he recalled Mike saying she was married.

Nick left before they could catch him staring and walked out to his car. This told him a little more about Mike. Clearly, he and his family had not parted on the best of terms. Nick had suspected, but this served as confirmation. What disturbed Nick was that he knew Mike had been on his own for at least a year without contact with his family. That he was still that traumatized by the thought of them seeing him was disturbing. It meant he couldn't move past it, whatever it was. Nick speculated in vain once again: what had caused the split? He couldn't help the wolf without knowing. And he wanted to help the wolf. He was deeply affected by seeing Mike so fearful. When Nick had supported him in the kitchen, Mike had clung to the cheetah so that Nick had basically been given Mike a one-armed hung until the manager showed up. He knew the wolf liked hugs, but this time it was an almost primal fear that had caused the embrace. Confused and no closer to finding answers, Nick started the car and drove back to his house.

*

Mike was recovering slowly as he served drinks and food to the people occupying the lounge. It was routine, thoughtless work, which left him free to think about his family. The only distraction was removing an underage patron. Mike had shaken his head at the teenager's foolishness. A moustache does not an adult make, Mike thought with a small smile. The smile was incredibly short-lived. His thoughts had turned back to the people on the other side of the kitchen.

He had watched closely for his family over the first couple months on the job. While he wouldn't have been thrilled to see them, he would have been ready for an encounter. Mike had gradually relaxed as time passed until he forgot about the possibility. This Smitty's wasn't too close to anywhere his family frequented--or rather, had frequented when he knew them. Seeing them now, after a year of separation, had surprised Mike so much that he had been paying close attention to his left arm when he had jumped into the kitchen. He had heard that shooting pains there were an indication of cardiac arrest, and he had been sure he was going to have a heart attack.

He smiled again as he served the patrons. It was a superficial smile with no feeling behind it, but it wasn't artificial enough for any but the most observant to notice. His thoughts remained on his kin, but his emotion changed from terrified to embarrassment. He had, after all, had a panic attack not only in front of his one good friend, but also in front of a manager. When Mike passed by the Pointer in the kitchen while grabbing food, he wasn't sure if he was imagining the looks the dog was giving him. He was more worried, however, by what Nick thought of him. Despite having a year to come to terms with his new life, Mike hadn't really grown since moving away from home. His insecurities got the better of him, and the wolf wondered if Nick would want to continue their friendship. I'm a freak, Mike thought. Who panics at the mere sight of someone? I'm pathetic.

Mike noticed a change on a customer's face and realized he had started frowning. With a great effort he recovered his smile and focused on his work. He worked with a passion in an attempt to forget the problems his family presented. He was partly successful until he switched back to working on the restaurant side. His manager, God bless him, had gone to check that his family had left, but Mike's breathing rate increased slightly when he started waiting tables again. However, the supper rush soon cleared all extraneous thoughts from his mind. It took all of his concentration to rush from the kitchen to the tables and back again while avoiding bumping into anyone else.

The rush died down eventually, and near the end of Mike's shift, he was mostly serving drinks, desserts, and appetizers. He had made some decent money but he was relieved and happy when his shift ended. He was completely wiped, and his close encounter with his family and the subsequent scare only accentuated his fatigue. A groan slipped from his muzzle as he considered the walk home. It wasn't too far, but it was far enough that he wished he could drive home instead. "Well," Mike said to himself, "it's not getting any shorter," and he slowly rose on tired feet. He stepped outside and walked through the parking lot to the sidewalk.

A loud HONK! sounded right behind him, and Mike jumped as a voice called, "Hey, want a ride?"

He looked at the grinning cheetah and said, "Sorry, Mom always told me not to accept rides from strangers."

"Stranger?" Nick asked. "But you know me!"

"Yeah," Mike replied with a smirk. "And I don't think I know anyone stranger than you."

Nick groaned. "Can we stop with the bad puns and just get in the car?"

"No," Mike said, shaking his head.

"You wouldn't want this trip to go to waste, would you?" Nick asked, wondering at the refusal.

"No," Mike admitted. "But 'we' can't because you're already in the car, and," Mike said, talking over Nick's attempt to interrupt, "I can't get in the car." Seeing Nick's hopelessly confused expression, Mike smiled and added, "I can only get into the car." He then suited his actions to his words and sighed gratefully as he sat in_to_ the vehicle.

"You're that tired, and you stayed standing for that long just to give me a grammar lesson?"

"Yeah. I need the practice if--"

Nick waited expectantly for the end of the sentence, but it was not forthcoming. He glanced quickly over at his friend to read Mike's expression, but the wolf was turned away, staring out the window. Nick couldn't see a reflection in the glass this time, but he knew what it meant. He decided not to push and moved the conversation to safer climes.

"So, how were the last four hours? Incredibly dull without me?"

"Yeah. You know, every time I work, I find myself thinking, 'I hope Nick's going to be there. He's the only reason I work at Smitty's.' "

"I'm sorry. I just can't stop people from obsessing over me. It must have something to do with my good looks, intelligence, dazzling, charm..."

"Your modest nature."

"That, too."

"The fact that anyone looks good when compared to you."

"Ouch," Nick grimaced.

"Ask, and thou shalt receive," Mike said, teeth bared in a grin. Then noticing the turn signal Nick flicked on, "No, thanks, Nick. I'm one step above dead. I think I should just head home. By the way, were you running errands or something?"

"No. Why?"

Mike shook his head. Nick happened to glance over just then and asked, "What?"

"I can't believe you, that's what."

"What can't you believe?" Nick asked incredibly perplexed by the turn the conversation had taken.

"That you would drive over just to give me a ride."

"Why not? It's not far."

"That's the point. It's not far, and my apartment is only a couple blocks farther. I could have walked it easily and saved you the gas."

"It wasn't much gas."

"It was still completely unnecessary."

"Y'know, you're not going to win this argument."

"And why is that?" Mike asked, eyeing Nick critically as the car pulled into a parking spot on the street outside the apartment.

"Because we're here, and no matter what you say or do, I've given you the ride."

"Jerk," Mike said good-naturedly.

"I aim to please."

"Clearly not. Do I look pleased?"

"You look divided."

"Huh?" Mike asked, confused.

"You look like you can't decide whether to be grateful for the ride or annoyed that I spent money on you. Indirectly."

"I forgot you were a shrink."

"Even if I did have the degree, I wouldn't be a shrink. I'm into psychology, not psychiatry."

"Too bad. I could use a drug dealer."

Nick looked at Mike, surprised.

Mike caught the look. "Yeah, I know the difference. Counselling psychologist, clinical psychologist, and psychiatrist."

"Impressive. A lot of people don't."

"What can I say? I'm awesome."

Nick began to sing, "No you're not, du--"

"Please, don't wreck a good song any more than it has been already. You're as bad as Jack."

"Jack? Who's Jack?"

"Brother-in-law." Mike realized they were still in the car. "Well, we're here."

"Have been for a while."

"I noticed," Mike commented dryly. "Thanks for the ride," he said, making to get out.

"What? You're not going to invite me in?"

"I thought you didn't like my shoebox."

"Not to live in, no," Nick admitted. "But once again we are in the middle of a conversation."

"You're always in the middle of a conversation," Mike laughed. "Come on up, then."

"Of course, if you don't want--"

"Hurry up, before I get cold and offended."

Nick chuckled as he followed the canine up to the door. Mike let them into the foyer and led Nick upstairs to the second floor. After dropping his keys, he managed to open his apartment and walked into the single room, saying "Welcome to my humble abode" in an elegant manner. "It's not much, but it's home." He looked around his residence, a bittersweet smile on his face.

Nick noticed the smile was a little off, yet it did have genuine happiness behind it. He dismissed his speculations on the matter and looked around, curious to see what personal touches the wolf had added to the apartment. He wanted to see if there were any clues to Mike's past or present situation.

The kitchen didn't add much to Nick's knowledge. There were a couple of dirty dishes on the counter, and the appliances were generic. The grocery list stuck to the fridge also didn't provide Nick with any insights. The rest of the room was more personal but not much more revealing. The walls were bare of photographs to Nick's disappointment, but there were posters: Everything I Know, I Learned From Video Games; Everything I know, I Learned from Monty Python; an amazing rendition of a phoenix; a Star Wars character gallery; and an imagined landscape featuring a waterfall. Interesting and insightful with regards to Mike's interests, but not what Nick was hoping to find. The boxes in one corner puzzled Nick for a moment. Mike had been here for at least a year, so he should be unpacked. Then Nick figured it out. Mike moved from a house to an apartment. Those must be the things he didn't have room to put anywhere. _ The coffee and dining tables had a few odds and ends on them but no hints. A bookcase caught Nick's eye. _What does Mike read? he wondered.

The cheetah was struck by the sheer number of books. The shelves were packed with book after book after book. Nick also noticed they were arranged alphabetically by author. Science fiction and fantasy dominated the bookcase, but there were some generic fiction novels and alternate history books. Some of the titles were recognizable classics: The Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit, 1984, and 20,000 Leagues under the Sea were all present. One book caught Nick's eye in particular, and he withdrew it from the shelf.

"One of my favourites," Mike announced, looking at the book Nick was holding. It was The True Story of the 3 Little Pigs. Nick raised his eyebrows at the wolf.

"An excellent telling, above par illustrations, and a very important lesson," Mike added, unashamed.

"And what lesson is that?" Nick knew the story and the answer, but he wanted to hear the wolf tell it.

"There are always at least three sides to every story."

Nick's eyebrows raised again. "Three?" he asked. "I count two: the wolf and the pigs."

"And the observer. The reader, in this case. Since they hear both sides, they amalgamate it into a story that is different than the involved parties."

Nick frowned thoughtfully. He had never thought of that before. He replaced the book and turned back just in time to see the wolf collapse on the couch. Nick chuckled.

"Yeah, go ahead, laugh. Then work a few eight hour shifts on consecutive days and see how much energy you have."

"You were off yesterday."

"And I worked four hours Sunday, eight Monday, eight and a half Tuesday, six tomorrow and eight Saturday."

Nick whistled. "Don't kill yourself."

"Meh. This is pretty regular for me."

Nick looked sadly at the wolf. He knew Mike wouldn't be uncomfortable from his expression because the canine's eyes were closed. It's too bad, Nick thought, that he works so much and still lives in a place like this. He's obviously bright and hardworking. He should be in university, getting ready for a real job.

These thoughts sparked a question. "So what were you taking in university before you left?"

Mike opened his eyes and felt them tear. Luckily, the tears didn't fall and remained unnoticed. Mike knew he shouldn't be saddened by the thought of university, but he stopped more or less because of his getting kicked out of his home and family. Angrily, he pushed those unhappy thoughts aside and answered the question. "I took one semester's worth of the secondary education program, majoring in English."

That explains the cut off after the grammar talk, Nick thought. He was going to say he needs practice if he's going to be an English teacher. "Did you have a minor?"

"Yeah, music. Didn't take any music classes before leaving, though."

"That's too bad. I don't mean to pry--"

"Yes, you do," Mike said with a small smile.

Nick rolled his eyes and took the smile as an okay to continue. "--but couldn't your parents help with the cost of university or rent?"

"No, they're financially stressed too, what with Mom in a rehab centre. And even if they were millionaires, I wouldn't see one red cent," he added bitterly. He immediately regretted his remark, but he was too tired to think everything through before saying it. He grimaced, bracing himself for the inevitable--

"Why?" Nick saw the wolf's tormented expression and knew Mike regretted saying anything. Nick was sorry to push his friend, but he truly believed Mike had to get it out, whatever it was. "And why did you freak out when you saw your family at Smitty's?"

"Why do you think it was them who freaked me out?"

Nick recognized the question for what it was: a dodge. Mike didn't want to lie, but he also didn't want to tell the truth. "I saw them. Your sister looks a lot like you."

"Are you calling me a girl?"

Nick didn't hear any anger in the accusation. Mike wasn't mad. He just hoped humour would distract the cheetah from his interrogation. It didn't work.

"Mike..."

"I don't want to talk about it," Mike said, hoping a blunt answer would discourage further discussion.

"Sometimes what we want isn't what we need."

"You would say that," Mike retorted, suddenly angry. "You've been taking your psych classes too seriously."

"Mike," Nick said, now hurt rather than entreating. "I'm just trying to help."

"TALKING WON'T HELP!" Mike yelled, jumping to his feet to roar at the cheetah. "Talk doesn't change anything! Telling you won't fix anything! My family will still hate me and the only change would be that you'll either end up hating me too or feeling sorry for this poor, broken caricature of a onetime functioning wolf!"

Nick sat silently throughout the tirade. He was too shocked to even try to speak. He had never seen Mike more than a little annoyed, and this anger took him aback. Moreover, there were tears in Mike's eyes. There were so many emotions bottled up in Mike that were spilling out for the first time in a year. Nick was amazed that Mike hadn't broken down or exploded before now that he saw what the wolf had buried. Nick could see anger, depression, guilt, and fear in Mike's eyes, although the latter three were mostly overridden by Mike's rage. There were probably other feelings present as well, and now it was all coming out at the cheetah.

"You think you're going to figure me out? The first successful patient of the great Doctor Nick! Well, I'm doing fine! FINE! I never asked for help! I'm standing on my own two feet, and I don't need his money or approval! And I certainly don't need some amateur psychologist-waiter telling me what I need!" Mike fell back on the couch, knees buckling more from emotion than from fatigue. He put his head in his hands and shook slightly, not crying, but on the verge.

Nick stayed sitting in the kitchen chair he had claimed before the rant. He didn't know what to do. He had thought he could talk to the wolf to help him feel better, but the outburst had taken him completely by surprise. He was still debating what to do when Mike said hoarsely, "Go."

"What?" Nick said, more from confusion than from difficulty hearing.

"Go," Mike said in a voice raw from emotion and the shouting. "Just leave. I--Just go."

Mike was now thoroughly depressed, his anger completely spent. He had just yelled at his only good friend, the only one he saw on a day-to-day basis. Worse, it hadn't been yelling in general; it had been yelled at Nick directly, offensively. He hadn't really meant it, but it was too late to try and take it back. With eyes closed and head down, it was left to his ears to detect Nick getting up off of the chair. Alone again, Mike thought. Can't I do anything right? First my dad, now Nick.... There was no doubt in Mike's mind that Nick was through with him. First a panic attack, then this blow up. Who wants to deal with someone this temperamental? I'm pathetic.

Mike was completely oblivious to the world around him, lost in his own increasingly depressing thoughts. He was so focused internally that even his sensitive ears didn't hear the cheetah cross the floor. Mike started when Nick wrapped his arms around the shaking wolf. The hug broke Mike's remaining self-control, and he began to gently weep. He couldn't understand why Nick would be there beside him, comforting him, after everything he had said. After a moment he decided Nick's motivations didn't matter and accepted the fact that he was there.

It took a long while for Mike to stop. He sat there, quiet and still for a moment. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't be," was Nick's reply.

"How can I not be sorry? I just said terrible things to you for no good reason."

"It's okay. I understand. I know you didn't mean it."

Despite his calm acceptance of the tirade, Nick was still mystified. Mike had released his feelings, yes, but Nick was still no closer to finding the cause. The only clues in Mike's little 'speech' were that his family hated him, he quarrelled with his father specifically (which Nick inferred from the 'his'), and he thought that everyone would hate him for whatever it was his family did.

"Mike," Nick said cautiously. He didn't want to set the wolf off again, but thought the chance unlikely. Mike wasn't given to violent outbursts and had probably expended all of his anger already. "What's wrong?"

Mike sighed. "Me. I'm wrong."

"Don't say that," Nick said vehemently. "What happened? Why are you so afraid of seeing them?"

Mike was silent and stared at the floor, hands now folded in his lap.

"It helps to talk about it."

"Only if the other person is willing to listen," Mike said quietly.

"I'm willing to listen."

"My dad probably would have said the same. Then, when he heard.... Why should this time be any different?"

"I'm not your dad. I'm your friend. It was choice that brought us together, not blood."

Mike was warmed by the words, but his black mood was not lifted. "It's easier to relinquish a choice than blood."

Nick sighed. "Mike, you'll have to trust me. You can't keep something so big to yourself. Otherwise, you're going to break down or blow up again. What if it happens at work?" Silence greeted his question. "Just let it out. Is it so terrible to tell me?"

"I don't want to lose anyone else over this."

"You won't," Nick reassured him. "I've worked with you for a year, Mike. You're a good guy. I'm one hundred percent positive that it's not as bad as you think."

Mike gave in to Nick, resigned to his fate. He could tell Nick wouldn't give up, so the wolf decided to just get it over with. "Okay. If you really want to know...." He sighed. "I'm bi." He didn't give Nick a chance to respond. He had to get everything out now that he started. "My dad found out and told me to grab my stuff, not take anything of his, and get the hell out. I stayed with a friend for a while before getting my apartment. She's moved since, so I don't see her anymore. Everyone else I couldn't talk to 'cause I didn't have a phone after getting the boot. That job was the first thing to really give me stability. I'm not sure how the rest of the family feels about it, but I don't want to talk to them and risk my dad taking them out of the will like he's done me. Seeing them--Seeing my dad after so long... I couldn't handle the shock. I watched for them the first couple of months on the job, but when they never showed up, I figured they never went to that Smitty's and I was in the clear. Then... you know the rest." Mike paused for a moment. "If you're going to leave, just do it now. Don't wait to say you're bit about how wrong I am."

Nick still had an arm over the wolf's shoulders. From their closeness Mike could feel Nick's hair bristling over the course of his story. This only reinforced the feeling of inevitability Mike felt.

"That's terrible," Nick said. Mike cringed, expecting this reaction, but still hurt. He was so caught up in those two words that he almost missed Nick's next ones. "How could your dad do that to you?"

"What?" Mike was so taken aback that the word slipped out without his meaning to.

"That's one of the worst reasons to kick a kid out of the house that I've ever heard. What does it matter if you're bisexual? And to force you out of university, too. I mean, that's why you can't afford it, right? Ugh, it's as bad as racism. People like that make me sick."

Mike could hardly be more surprised. Not only was Nick okay with his sexual orientation, he was defending him about it. He nearly broke down again from relief and gratefulness, but he held himself together. He merely said quietly, "Thanks, Nick."

Nick had been gradually getting more worked up about the issue, but Mike's remark cooled him down. This was not the time to speak out against discrimination. Mike needed some quiet support, not a fiery defence.

Mike, meanwhile, was sitting quietly, not thinking about anything in particular but merely enjoying the comfort Nick had offered. He couldn't say that everything had gone wrong today, but the day had been completely overshadowed by seeing his family and anticipating the conversation with Nick. He hadn't anticipated the support, though, and had been deathly afraid of being alone in the world again. His over-worried mind had even thought he would need to find a new job. Even if Nick had kept it to himself, working with Nick would have been impossible if he hated Mike for who he was. Now, though, with Nick's help, he had achieved a sense of calm.

They were still sitting and not saying anything when a rumble caused them to start. "Sorry," Mike said with an embarrassed smile. "My stomach's wambling."

"What?"

"Wambling. It's the sound your stomach makes when it wants food. I haven't eaten since that first break."

"That was, like, two thirty, wasn't it? What time is it now?"

"About nine o'clock," Mike said, glancing at the stove clock.

"Go, eat!" Nick commanded. "You had a pitiful excuse for a lunch and need sustenance."

"Yes, Master," Mike said ironically, hunching over and giving his best Igor impersonation.

Nick rolled his eyes. "And they say I'm out there."

"Don't worry," Mike replied. "You are."

Mike went over to the kitchenette and perused the cupboards and fridge for food. His investigation confirmed his suspicion. Like always, they were severely understocked. It wasn't that Mike was a bad cook. He learned a lot in his year as a bachelor living alone. It was rather that there was never any time to cook anything. I need a slow cooker, Mike thought. Oh well, pasta again it is. He got a box of penne and a jar of Ragu. While pulling some pots out of a drawer, he asked, "You want some penne and meat sauce?"

"No, I'm good."

"You sure? I never finish the sauce before I have to chuck some of it in the garbage."

"Well--"

"Good, I'll set you a place."

Nick snorted with amusement. "I was going to say I don't want to impose, but it looks like you're imposing on me."

"It's hereditary. Blame my gramma. You can't spend five minutes in her house without her giving you food."

Nick watched carefully to see if mention of his grandmother would depress him like talk of his dad did. However, Nick only saw fond reminiscence in Mike's expression.

"I'd love to visit her again."

"Where does she live?" Nick asked, genuinely curious.

"Small town about two and a half hours north-east from here. Last time I went was... Jesus, it was exactly one week before I started university, and that was only a day trip. I used to spend a week there every summer, first with my bro when I was little and then by myself when I got older. That summer before university is the first time I didn't since I was too young to remember."

"Too bad. Does she know?" Nick asked hesitantly.

"No idea. She and my dad talk sometimes, I know. I'm not sure what my dad says about me."

Mike started to stare at the water he had set to boil. It always seemed to take longer than it should. Nick chuckled while Mike stirred the sauce on the stove.

"A watched pot never boils."

"An unwatched pot never gets the pasta in it," Mike retorted. "Besides, you should avoid clichés like the plague.

"Hypocrite."

"There's something deeply ironic in a hypocrite calling someone else a hypocrite."

"Mike," Nick said, "you think too much."

"Still, better than thinking too little," Mike teased. "Ah, finally," he added, pouring the pasta into the now boiling water. "Seven minutes or so and we're good to go." He turned to the cupboard to grab plates and found Nick standing there.

"Here, let me."

"Sit down, Nick, it'll take two seconds."

"No, I insist," he replied, looking in the wrong cupboard.

"You're a guest--"

"Who's very persistent," Nick said, this time opening the correct cupboard.

Mike exhaled explosively. "Fine. Cutlery's in the top drawer by the fridge, and I think there's some Parmesan cheese in the fridge if you want." He didn't so much sit as fall onto the couch.

"See?" Nick asked. "You need rest."

"You're right. Two whole plates after a day of carrying around trays full of food is far too much for me to handle."

"I'm glad you agree."

"You're impossible."

"You're just jealous."

"Envious," Mike corrected.

"Excuse me?" Nick asked, Mike's apparent agreement throwing him off.

"Envious, not jealous. There's a difference."

"Grammar Nazi."

"Definitely. If not Hitler, than at least Göbbels."

"Now you're being impossible."

"Does that make you envious?"

Nick raised his empty hands, finished setting the table. "Okay, I surrender. You win."

Mike grinned as the timer beeped. "About time. I'm so hungry, I could eat a horse."

"A feral one, of course."

"If you insist," Mike said, the grin turning evil.

"Okay, grab the pasta. You're officially creeping me out."

"Good. I like keeping people on their toes. Mike rose, turned off the timer, strained the penne, and moved everything to the table. "Get it while it's hot."

The pair ate in silence, mostly because Mike was hungry and too busy scarfing his food down to talk. Nick at a more sedate pace, having eaten earlier. Both were feeling similar sentiments of relief and contentment. Mike was glad that the secret was out and that Nick didn't care. Nick was happy that Mike had finally opened up to him. He could tell the talk had done the wolf good. The talk had done him good as well: his curiosity was finally satisfied. Their mutual good will kept the silence from being oppressive.

They pushed back their chairs ten minutes later, stomachs replete. "That was good. Thanks," Nick said.

"No problem. I don't like eating alone anyway." Mike felt the slightest twinge of sadness, but he brushed it away as quickly as it came. He hadn't eaten alone much before leaving the house, but he decided that while he wouldn't ignore the good times he'd had before, he would not let it overshadow the present. It wouldn't go away in a day, he knew, but he was going to let the past lie.

Nick was still watching Mike carefully and noticed the twitch. This time, though, there wasn't a forced smile or a moment of concentration. Nick was happy that the talk had helped and hoped the effects would last. He hated seeing people unhappy and did his best to cheer them up with varying amounts of success. The sight of the smile on Mike's muzzle cheered the cheetah more than the good meal. He found himself smiling as he got up and gathered the plates.

"Damn it, Nick, I can take care of that."

"I know. You can put the leftovers away."

Mike shook his head but did what Nick said. He could see there was no point in arguing.

After putting everything away, they sat talking about nothing. It was the pleasant sort of conversation where it felt like a good talk, but nothing of what was said was remembered afterwards. By the time Nick happened to glance at the clock, it was five minutes to midnight.

"I should probably go and let you get some sleep," he said. "Eight hours... I don't see how you do it."

"Meh. You get used to it." Now that Nick had called attention to the time, Mike realized how tired he was. Yawning, he said, "Thanks, Nick. For everything."

"No problem. Get some sleep."

"Yes, Mom." Finally, Mike thought. Payback.

Nick winced. "I guess I deserved that."

"Yes," Mike grinned. "You did."

---

Well, finally. Once again, sorry for the lateness. Please leave me feedback. I'll love you forever if you do! Well, not quite, but you get the idea. I hope you've enjoyed this latest installment, because I'm taking a brief break from this series to start something else. The writing has already begun, but no promises as to when the first post will be. Anyway, I want to direct you all to the latest journal entry of mine (at the time of this post). I asked a question about the future of the series and feedback has been... light. I would like some more if you could find it in you to take two minutes to read the journal and comment.

Also, just as a side note. In case anyone's getting any ideas, there was nothing romantic going on in this chapter. Yeah, there's a hug or two, but they're just hugs. I'm not sure if anyone's going to read too much into it, but I want to make sure. If you didn't think so, ignore all this crap.

Once again, thanks to my watchers. Now there's eight of you! YAY! And thanks to everyone who reads these. If I hadn't started coming to this site (no pun intended ;) ) then I probably would have never taken up writing again. So leave comments! Please, I can't stress it enough. I read all of them. Anyway, that's enough of your time wasted. Toodles!