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This is the story of two furs as they go through their lives together, a decade at a time. It's a project I've been working on for a while now, in my head and on paper, and I'm so glad to be posting it for the furry public to see at long last. I can't remember the last time I ever invested so much emotionally in a series.

I really hope that you'll give it a read, and follow these two in their life together from start to finish. Hopefully it'll reward you at least a fraction as much as writing it has rewarded me.

The characters of John and Samantha were created by me, Jeeves, and should not be used without permission.

Decades - '64'

"When people do this, they always say 'He was a good man, a kind man.' It's such a cliche, such a stereotype, and I hate that, because... Frederick Dowlin really was a good man. He was kind and friendly to everyone he ever met, whether they deserved it or not. I'll miss him, and I truly hope that he is resting, as they say, in peace. After all, we all know how pissed off he could get if you woke him up before he was ready."

Clustered around the grave site, the casket already lowered and the main eulogy already given by the deceased's life partner, the family and friends of Frederick Roddenberry Dowlin said their final goodbyes. As John Douglas, one of Fred's best friends, stepped back from the edge of the grave, all those around him laughed and nodded. At some point their dear yet dozy friend had started to nap with almost each and every one of those present here today, and after waking him up they had therefore all been on the receiving end of his deluge of sleepy, confused expletives and curses, usually directed straight at whoever was responsible for ruining what he had always called 'The perfect 39 winks!' Perhaps for that reason it was fitting that Fred had passed away peacefully in his sleep. A decade or two early for sure, given how active and lively he'd been, at the relatively spry age of just sixty two, but a fitting passing for such a calm, sleepy sort for sure.

Returning to his wife's side, John slipped his hand into Samantha's own and laced their fingers together as was second nature to them by now. Samantha had known Fred almost as well as he had, and like many of the pairs of eyes here, hers were damp with tears. She leaned her head against John's shoulder as they stood in silence and listened to the next of his many, many friends telling of another heart-warming memory or simply letting their sorrow be known, and shivered even though the weather around them was perfectly warm. John wrapped an arm around her, and she cuddled up even closer to the raccoon and his thick overcoat, but it didn't help. She shivered the whole way through the memorial, and when it came time to get into their cars and drive to the wake at Fred's old house, Samantha couldn't help but draw John aside before they had a chance to get into their own vehicle and confess what had been playing on her mind ever since they'd arrived at the grave site.

"John... I... I feel so ashamed of myself. I'm being such an idiot, and on a day when we're supposed to be thinking of a wonderful man, not ourselves."

The raccoon suspected he knew what was on his wife's mind. It was probably on the mind of everyone here, except perhaps Fred's children, and that included him. He didn't want to assume though, especially not if doing so might plant those very thoughts in Samantha's head. Thus, he tilted his head to one side and took both of Samantha's hands into his. She was shaking, and it broke his heart, because he knew that there was nothing he could do to alleviate this particular fear. Nothing, that is, except listening, and understanding.

"Tell me, Sammy. Tell me what you're thinking about. You know I won't judge you for it."

Yes, Samantha knew that her husband wouldn't judge her, just as she wouldn't judge him. There was one critic however from which the female could not hide. One mind and judgemental, accusatory finger which the lemur could not escape. Her own. Nevertheless, she knew that she had to say this, otherwise it would drive her mad with sorrow and worry.

"I..."

The lemur drew in a deep breath, attempting to steady herself. It didn't help.

"I..."

She looked down at the ground between her feet, then into the eyes of her husband, then back down at the ground again. No matter where she looked, it didn't help.

"I... I don't want to think about death anymore. I d-don't want to go to the wake. I don't want to stay here. I don't want to think or talk about Fred, a-and I sure as hell don't want you to try and talk me out of this. I just want to go home, c-curl up in bed, in your arms, a-and... and pretend that we're going to be together forever."

It was indeed what John had feared, not to mention what he too feared, though admittedly on a lesser level than his wife currently seemed to be displaying. She was afraid the inevitable. The truth of their situation which was inescapable and undeniable. They were _older_than Fred; two years older than him in fact, and he was dead. Dead not from an industrial accident, not by a car crash or any form of violent crime. It wasn't suicide, or cancer, or any bizarre, rare illness. He had died of natural causes. Of old age. And they were older than him.

Samantha was afraid that their time on this earth, that their time together, was running out, and it seemed that this funeral had finally brought that inevitable thought which played on the minds of all the elderly crashing to the forefront of her own mind.

Looking into his wife's amber hued eyes as she raised her gaze to meet his own shamefully once more, John nodded in sincere understanding. He knew it was bad form, he knew that Fred's family and the rest of their friends might be upset at them for not attending what was supposed to be the main event of this day; a celebration of the good man's life. But, to be perfectly honest, if it came down to a choice between their contentment and his wife's happiness, each and every one of them could go straight to hell. He would choose Samantha first every time, without even a moment's hesitation, because he loved her.

"Okay, Sammy. Okay. Let's go home."

***************

The ride home was long, and unforgivingly morbid. Now that the subject had officially been broached between the pair, it was all that either of them could think about. John was painfully aware of the way his fingers ached slightly as he gripped the steering wheel, not fond of being bent at an angle for any purpose these days, and despite having the air conditioning on full he felt as though the air around them was stuffy, like he couldn't fill his lungs to capacity even with the deepest of breaths. Of course, that last part may purely have been due to some sort of anxiety on his part, rather than any form of lung condition his ageing body was developing, but that thought didn't even cross the raccoon's mind.

Samantha meanwhile, strong willed a person as she was under normal circumstances, stared out of the car's passenger side window, and tried not to weep. She had seen the look on the faces of Fred's immediate family as John excused them, and while they hadn't been angry... they hadn't understood, either. John had said that this day was taking its emotional and physical toll on them both, and that they thought it best to go home before it got any worse. That would have been a fine reason, and a valid one, if he hadn't been talking to furs far dearer and more affected by Fred's passing than they could ever imagine. Furs who in spite of that fact were still putting on a brave face and going to celebrate the life of that dear, sweet man who was no longer there to enrich family dinners and make every day a joy.

As Samantha watched the world pass by beyond the window, she thought that she could almost see spectral figures standing by the roadside. Ghostly images not of furs long dead, but of her past self and John. Young teenagers, laughing, chasing one another around their gardens and the local park. Older teens, holding hands and kissing as they watched the kind of soppy, sappy chick flicks which made them both wince now. Thirty year olds, tired, run ragged but still beaming as they sang two young babies to sleep. Furs in their fifties, watching their children growing up and marvelling at how much of their children's zeal for life was still found inside them.

Where had those furs gone?

The lemur was happy. She and her husband were both so happy. But... some time in the last decade, without even realising it, they'd grown up. Not just into adults, that had happened at around the time their first child was born, but into old people. Into the sort of elderly furs they used to see sitting on benches at the local park, feeding the ducks as they held hands with a look of peaceful, serene acceptance on their faces. They knew that their life was no longer stretching out in front of them, that the road behind was now far longer than the road ahead, but they had been okay with it. Happy with it, even.

Samantha was happy, but... she wasn't _there_yet. She wasn't happy with that part of her life. With the part that knew it was going to end. In fact, she was terrified by it. Terrified that her agnostic ways would come back to bite her when she passed away, and found herself cast into an eternal twilight without John. Her very own hell. Terrified that somehow, some way, she would be aware and conscious beyond this world, and that the absence of her husband would forever weigh on her mind. And at the same time, terrified that this was all there was. That she had a few more years, a decade or two at the very most, and then...

Nothing.

No more love. No more John. No more Sadie and Robbie and Carolyn and Lynne and Bryony or any of her other grandchildren, friends and acquaintances.

No more life. No more awareness.

Just death.

The car pulled to a standstill, and Samantha jerked sharply as her vision slid back into focus and she realised that they were not stopping at lights or any sort of traffic junction. They were home.

Fifteen minutes. For fifteen minutes she'd been locked in that morbid fantasy. That was a quarter of an hour of her life she would never get back. 900 precious seconds already lost to death, albeit indirectly.

Turning to face her husband, already looking at her with an expression of ever growing concern, Samantha tried to appear strong and resolute. If she could get to the house, she told herself, everything would be okay. They could go upstairs, lie down together, and things would seem so much better. Life would be good again, and eternity would stretch out before them as they cuddled and talked. This day would never end, and never again would her mind consider the un-knowable horrors of mortality.

Samantha's amber eyes met with John's brown hues. They lingered there for just a second, until John smiled a weak, false, pointless smile, and with a choked whimper of misery Samantha turned away from her husband, fumbling hurriedly for the car door.

The lemur stumbled, tears blurring her vision, across the garden path to the front door. She somehow found her key in her bag before John could catch up with her, and was inside the door when the first harsh, grating sob escaped her lips. With her tears now flowing freely she ran up the stairs faster than her body had moved in years, shaking her head and crying out indistinguishable expletives all the while.

Upon reaching the safety, the familiarity and the comfort of her bedroom, Samantha threw herself down onto the bed, scrabbling and scrambling with maddened, mournful ferocity to get underneath the thick, warm covers. She curled up into the foetal position, weeping like a scared, defenceless infant, and pulled the sheets up over her head. Darkness engulfed her. Silence. Emptiness. Further sorrow could not penetrate this bubble of nothingness, and that stifled her sobs at least a little. Neither, however, could joy or relief, and thus as Samantha lay there trembling and afraid, she was overwhelmed with relief when a distant, faraway voice cried out her name.

"Sammy. Oh, Sammy..."

Blinding light pierced the lemur's eyelids as John threw back the sheets and flung himself down beside her, atop her, _around_her. He grabbed her arms with his own and prised her out of her foetal position, growling with the effort as she fought him every step of the way, sobbing and cursing him. They were both older, and weaker than they had once been, but even in their later years John was still a foot taller than Samantha and his body had thinned out with age while hers had plumped up. He had strength on his side, and thus before long had peeled Samantha back enough to stare into her now wide eyed face with his own bright, sorrowful hues.

"Samantha. Don't do this. Don't think about this. There's no sense in fighting something we can't change, just like there's no sense in mourning it."

The lemur could have slapped her husband for saying that. Didn't he think she knew that?! Didn't he think for one minute that maybe she wanted to believe that with all her heart; to accept what the rational side of her mind had been saying all along and get on with her life?!

"No-one wants to die, Sammy. No-one in their right mind, anyway. But there's something that terrifies me far more than the thought of one day not waking up. A thought which makes me feel sick every time it crosses my mind. It's not the thought of dying... but the thought of living. W-what if one day I wake up, and you're not there with me?! What if one day I find that you've slipped away, that you're at peace, and I'm still here?"

Though her husbands thoughts were no less, and indeed no more morbid than her own, Samantha was still stunned to hear John saying this rather than trying to offer yet more pointless, useless comfort. It wasn't making her feel any worse, but... did he really expect what he was saying to in any way make the lemur feel better?

"Dying scares me, Sammy, but it doesn't terrify me half as much as the idea of living without you. I... I'd lose my mind, Samantha. I mean, I really, truly believe that I would. Life without you, if I had to go on day after day knowing I'd never again get to hold your hand, or kiss you, or cuddle you, it would be a living hell. I... I'd sooner kill myself than live for a day without you. But I know I could never do that. I know I could never take my own life. S-so... so I'd lose my mind, and until the day we could finally be together again, I'd walk through life without a care. Without a thought."

Samantha and John stared at one another, both scared, both upset, both angry at themselves and each other for making them say these things and face these dark, shadowy spectres within them.

"I love you, Samantha. I love you so much that without you... there is no life. S-so... so please, don't do this. Don't lock yourself away inside your head, wishing the future away and clinging to the past. Don't kill your soul long before your heart stops beating. B-because... if you do... you'll be killing me too, a-and I don't want to die. I want to keep living, so that I can keep on loving you with every breathe, and every moment that I'm given."

A tense, fragmented silence followed. The ragged sounds of laboured, shallow breathing surged and billowed through the air. Sharp, offensive sniffles and choked up sobs assaulted the raccoon and the lemur's ears, and as they lay together in the pitch darkness beneath their sheets, their trembling bodies still felt cold and distant from one another.

Slowly though, very slowly, over not minutes, but hours, an ember began to glow between them. A single coal, warmed by John and cradled at the very core of his wife's being.

Samantha and John lay together, and little by little anger turned to forgiveness, denial to acceptance, and sorrow... sorrow began to transform not into happiness, it's direct opposite, but into the form which bestowed the function of happiness. Comfort.

This was not the end. It wasn't even the beginning of John and Samantha's fight with the knowledge of their own mortality, which would only truly come when one or both of them faced that possibility head on. It was however the beginning of something else. The birth of something new within the two lovers, which in half a century of romantic adoration they had only experienced in fleeting glimpses.

For the first time in a real, conscious and sustained fashion, Samantha and John began to understand and comprehend the full, uninhibited and boundless scope of their love for one another. It may have been infinite and all consuming, but now... now that seemed impossibly quantifiable to the two furs in question.

Death was a curse, for it would tear them apart, and bring to an end what they had shared over the course of this lifetime.

But, at the same time, they now acknowledged it as a blessing too. For one day, when one of them did die, the other would be left alone. And then, from that dark day onward... death would be welcomed with open arms.

That was how much Samantha and John loved one another. And that, as grim, dark and morbid as it may have been, was in its own way utterly beautiful.

By Jeeves