FSE

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Notes: Yes, I know there's a section down below to write info about the story itself, and I do use that sometimes. However, some insider information must be conveyed before reading a particular section that does have some pertinence to the story's content and perhaps an 'inside look' at the writing process for those interested in the gritty little details.

Firstly, I originally had a few chapters written past this point and ended up completely stopping work on Zero Point for a few years, claiming severe writer's block and other interests going on at the time. I had, blutly put, written myself into a corner. After considering scrapping this story, I settled on 'setting back the clock,' so to speak, and get rid of several chapters before rewriting from this very spot. As a reference to how long I let this story sit, the previous chapter was actually finished and finalized on 6 August 2010. The following chapter was finalized on 21 July 2012. This is an example of my more current work, and any dissonance in style and quality definitely reflects this.

Also, while definitely not crossing into adult territory, this is likely the raciest writing I've ever done. I don't plan on writing more adult scenes than this unless there's a major outcry for me to do so, and even then it won't be something I'll be doing anytime soon(gotta be pertiment to the plot). As such, critique is welcomed and encouraged from here on out; I'm interested to hear what others think about how I'm doing.

Apologies to Philip K. Dick for the chapter title.

Chapter 14: We Can Mistake It for You, Wholesale

The scent of coffee wafted through the air, assailing Brian's nose with the intimately familiar 'best part of waking up', if you believed all the marketing hype directed towards putting their particular brand of coffee into the machine inside your kitchen. The bed was soft, an inviting alternative to the lumpy Army cots, sleeping bags on hard ground, and cheap motel beds he had slept on over the past several months. The one thought he had other than the coffee was the fact that he hadn't had a better night's sleep in ages.

He was in his bedroom, the master suite in the townhouse they had been renting out in Billings. The sun did its best to penetrate the thin layer of burgundy curtains hanging over the window, bathing the room in a diffuse glow despite its own efforts to keep the morning light out. Had everything just been a dream? Was he at home, safe in bed rather than fighting in Iraq? Had the struggle to survive on an alien planet just been some sort of nightmare fueled by everything he had witnessed? He didn't have an answer to that. There was only the simple joy of being back home, in his bed. Added to that was the relief that for the moment there were no more wars to fight. Until his leave was over he could get back to a generally normal life.

He reached out towards the nearby window, pushing the curtain out of the way enough to get a peek at a scene he had been greeted by for years: portions of his front yard, the driveway with his uncle's old car perched upon the concrete, and the landscape blotted out by a large dusting of snow the night before. The implications of that were clear. He was on Christmas leave, and everything was right with the world. Perhaps after his contract was over he wouldn't re-up. Dreams had a way of putting everything into perspective. He had served his country and maybe it was time to move on and let someone else take the torch.

He was so relaxed he hadn't startled when the door opened, revealing his wife standing there with a steaming mug in her hands. Another typical lazy morning routine, which meant she had time off from work. The thin tank top and sweatpants didn't do all that much to hide her lithe frame, hard-earned from the time she was a cheerleader at their old high school. The passage of six years hadn't done too much damage to either of them, and the few years of being in the Marines had put Brian into the best shape of his life.

"I'd figured you'd still be passed out." Erica's voice carried softly yet clearly through the atmosphere. She sauntered over to the bed, setting the mug on the oak nightstand next to him. "It's, what, an eighteen hour drive from San Diego?" Her copper hair hung in his line of sight as she bent down and gave him a quizzical glance.

"Twenty-one." He responded, his voice giving out the fuzzy quality of recently waking up. "Spent the night near Salt Lake before making the second leg." In response to that Erica sat down on the bed, the small of her back pressed up against his stomach. "How's school been working out?"

"Oh, you know. Rehashing stuff I already know, glossing over the stuff I don't. I have no idea how you did so well in Hartmann's class. Either that or you got by unscathed so he wants to give your wife a doubly hard time." Erica giggled; a light, airy sound. It was that sense of humor that attracted him to her in the first place. They had their moments, but she could talk him through of some of the worst things he had experienced. That was her strength. Missing her was probably the reason why he had dreamed up that blue fox-girl, though her therapy-fu wasn't as strong as his wife's. Not by a long shot.

"You do realize I still have my notes and finished assignments in the filing cabinet next to the computer, right?" He cast a lazy finger toward the desk in the corner of the room. Unlike the relatively new oak furnishings that comprised most of the house that particular piece was an antique, dating to around the 1930s. The story went that his grandfather had purchased it for his grandmother, and it had been passed down ever since. The desk was one of only two things he had from his grandfather, the other being the old Colt .45 he carried as a sidearm.

"So, you want me to plagiarize your work from his class three years ago so I don't have to worry about bombing. How sweet." Erica's smile turned a sarcastic remark into a humorous one as she tucked in next to him. The sensation of arms wrapping around his back felt a little strange, as if nothing else but that was actually real. Her whisper carried to his ear as she nuzzled against his neck, the soft scent of cinnamon carried through the air. It was somewhat different from Erica's normal Victoria's Secret perfume, but he was too glad to really care about minor details.

"Hey, you deserve to have a leg up. Get your degree, and once I get out of the service we can go wherever the wind takes us. Florida, maybe?" Brian grinned at her as he ran a hand through her hair. Strange. It was softer and significantly thicker than he had remembered it. Either way, he wasn't going to complain. Not after a combat tour and some seriously messed up lucid dreams. The thought of going to their corpsman once he got back came to mind, but he really didn't want to be drummed out on a Section 8.

"I think I'd get tired of the beaches and party life pretty quickly." His wife gave him a kiss along the nape of his neck, a strangely funny tickling sensation accompanying it. "How about Maine? Find a hospital in one of those small towns; get a small repair business going on your end, a nice little house with some land. Peace and quiet without the picket fences. A couple of dogs and a few cats and let's call it good."

With the combat hazard pay he had accumulated over the years instead of blowing it like most of his comrades, it was doable. That was in all honesty why Erica stayed behind in Billings instead of moving with him to San Diego. Her parents owned several townhomes and the rent was pretty cheap. The part-time job at the local doctor's office as a receptionist kept them running well in the black. His combat pay and never spending frivolously added to their savings. Frankly, after his contract was up they would have enough money to start fresh and begin a new life. It was what he promised to her.

"I think we can do that." In response he lifted his head just a little bit, tilting it to the side just enough to allow his lips to land on hers. After several months of being away they both needed some time to be together. Away from the stress and the fighting, a respite from the loneliness and heartache. The strange tickling sensation continued and Erica's hesitant response gave the slightest of hints something was wrong. Brian ignored it anyway, diving into the kiss with fervor.

Erica responded with a soft moan, her hesitation disappearing after a moment. Their arms wound around each other, their surroundings fading away into a soft blur. Their lips parted against each other, tongues hesitantly exploring one another as if it was their first kiss; one shared in the halls of their high school so long ago. Her hands stroked at his sides, unwilling to go any further than the waistband of his boxers. That was another oddity, after several months she was the one who jumped his bones at the first available opportunity. The little things would be subsequently ignored as he decided to take the initiative.

His hand slid down the small of her back, causing her to arch into him as their kiss intensified. It was the perfect moment to wrap his leg around hers, his hand reaching its resting place atop her bottom. That caused her to pause a moment, her actions seeming surprised at something he had always done to her. He gave an experimental squeeze as he felt around. Was that her tailbone? It felt much larger than he remembered.

Another moan came to his ears as her lips pulled away from his, her arms almost crushing him against her body. His brain started to reboot through it all, a few neurons started firing and conscious thoughts started filtering into his mind through the fog. The painfully obvious facts started to become clear. That wasn't Erica's voice. That wasn't Erica's body. That wasn't Erica's tail... oh, shit.

His eyes snapped open, revealing the sight of Krystal's emerald eyes mere centimeters from his own. Their lips were almost brushing together, and it was quite obvious her arms were wrapped around him and his hands were in places they really shouldn't be. He had been making out with her, something he had said not ten hours ago wouldn't be happening. Not only was it happening, they had come into very dangerous territory if they didn't back out right there and then.

Krystal realized what was going on as well at the last possible moment. She gave a sharp gasp of surprise, looking at her human friend with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. The vixen was quite speechless. What had started with her coming into his room after a nightmare and seeking some company had turned into this. Part of her mind told her to let go and relish it, to take advantage of the only island of comfort and security she felt she had. Another part admonished her actions. This was no way for a prospective Council member to be acting. Even thinking about an outsider in this way ran anathema to everything she had been taught. The only thing her confused mind had decided on was that they both needed space while they both figured this out.

The unlikely couple pulled apart, the intense memories of their encounter very fresh on their minds. For Brian, the residual excitement and passion his dream had built up to was shattered. What felt like a very real reunion with his ex-wife was simply a dream nearly made reality, only to be shattered upon the cold, uncaring face of reality. What followed was a very difficult predicament. How else could he explain why he was locking lips with her, rather enthusiastically at that? He had even groped her. She wasn't even human, for Christ's sake. There had to be some other way to explain this other than 'I was dreaming and it felt so real, sorry about the having my way with you bit'.

Once there was a comfortable distance between them, their eyes resumed contact. They were both afraid to speak and a couple of uncomfortable minutes passed in silence. Brian fought the urge to grab her hand and hold onto the moment. He wasn't even sure where the hell that thought came from. In his mind it was his fault and he should be the one to break the awkward silence.

"I don't know how to explain myself, but I'm sorry. This wasn't supposed to happen." That sounded like a good middle road. Asking her what she was doing in his room would border on the accusatory, and he didn't want to risk alienating her again. He also used this time to calm down; it was hard to think with his thoughts centered on taking Erica to bed.

"I... I think this is my mistake too." Krystal stammered, trying to calm her own thoughts as well. The insides of her ears were flaring up in a blush bright enough to melt lead and the tip of her tail was twitching erratically. This was a fight-or-flight response pretty much any Cerinian or Lylatian could have seen a kilometer away. "This looks pretty bad, doesn't it?"

Brian, however, was pretty much clueless as to what she was feeling. He was human, not Lylatian. Subtle movements of her ears and tail which otherwise would be telegraphing her embarrassment and hesitant interest were lost on him. The scent cues most other canids, vulpines, and felids would be noticing were also lost on him. From his standpoint all he had was intuition and a general idea that both of them were rushing right along into unfamiliar territory. Ignoring her question, he took a deep breath and gave as calm an explanation as he could. "Alright. What happened here was the fact I was having a dream about my ex-wife. I guess you snuck into my bed for some reason, and things progressed from there. I was very much hoping to put this conversation off for a little while, but I guess that particular plan is FUBAR."

Krystal allowed herself to nod, noting a change in his scent as well as the raw, unabashed honesty emanating from his heart. The confusion about what had gone on between them was the cornerstone of the conflicting emotions both of them were experiencing. She wouldn't delve any farther than his surface thoughts, yet despite what he had told her before his mind was fighting the same battle which was raging inside hers.

"The bad part is that we don't have much time to hash this out. It's obvious you feel something for me, but I don't see how something like this could work out." Brian suppressed a sigh as he glanced toward the vixen's slightly crestfallen expression, trying his best to use the diplomatic tone he generally reserved for resolving disputes within his squad. "There are simply too many differences between you and I. We're from different worlds, different cultures, and while we have to rely on each other to survive that doesn't mean I'm somehow the guy that you're meant to be with."

Krystal gave him a nod, a strange sinking feeling growing in the pit of her stomach. There was some truth in his words, granted. However, they were also two lost souls who had lost everyone and everything that mattered to them. Regardless if it was her homeworld's destruction or some experimental device that sent him here, there was no use denying a deep bond because of what they had been through. She did her best to run through a calming technique before responding, but her voice was still cracking and almost hesitant as she spoke. "You might be right about my feelings, and they're causing me confusion. But please, see both sides of the picture before we stop talking. We both have lost everything. Just like you don't know if you can go home again, I don't know if any of my people are still alive. I..." She hitched for a moment as the realization set in. Her entire family. Her friends. Everyone she had talked to, even in passing. They were likely all dead. Even if they managed to save Sauria, what would happen afterwards? There was no home to return to. Not for her.

She remained silent for a few moments as tears flowed down her cheeks. Brian was familiar with grief, walking hand in hand with danger and death every day. How many memorial services had he been through? How many letters had he sent to the families of friends he lost while he was in combat? Telling someone's wife or mother about being there when their loved one took a bullet or was blown apart by an IED was among the hardest, most draining tasks he had ever done. It didn't take a psychologist to tell him that her emotional state was more fragile than she let on. In a way, they were alike in that regard. You either let a tragedy break you or you let it harden you. Perhaps the chief difference was the fact he had been through much more of it.

He wasn't sure why he did it, but he leaned over and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into a hug. There wasn't much resistance as she buried her muzzle into the collar of his shirt, the olive drab fabric greedily soaking up the tears that freely flowed down her cerulean features.

All he could think about was home. Earth. Home of the United States, baseball, fast cars, big guns, and good times. The entire human race. He was the only person who had firsthand, irrefutable evidence of intelligent life out there, for all the good it would do him. The only consolation was that he knew that all his loved ones were alive. To them, he was the only one who was dead. His heart sank when the thought of his parents planning his memorial service came to mind. The money didn't matter anymore, not an impossible distance from home. Erica could have all of it, for all he cared. It didn't stop him from wishing he was back home. Even if he was penniless and had to assume some crazy identity living as a bum in Miami or somewhere, it would at least be home.

Neither of them knew how much time had passed with them curled up in his borrowed bed, Krystal's tears slowly subsiding as all the thoughts of Cerinia swam through her mind. All of it was most likely gone. Everyone she knew or even talked to was most likely a victim of Venomian aggression. And there was nothing she could have done about it. She barely survived her escape. All for what? Some minor, rare ability she had that they somehow needed? She was in grave danger. That much was completely obvious. Yet, for the moment she felt safe. The steady rhythm of Brian's heartbeat was somehow soothing, and she found herself unwilling to let go. What was his role in her life? Friend? Comrade? Something deeper? What she was doing broke several moral codes in her society, the least of which was someone of her station cavorting with an outsider. Her emotions fought with her upbringing, the iron will of what she was brought up to be starting to crumble against one simple overwhelming truth: Everything is gone. I am the only one left. A lifetime of living to serve others at the cost of sacrificing everything she wanted to be was over, for better or for worse.

With a deep breath she pulled away from him, giving a shake of her head as she did so. There was no forcing him to like her, but there was no denying the conflicting feelings boiling in her heart either. The thought that consumed her mind was that she needed time. Time to think. Without a word she slid off the bed, her expression betraying the mix of confusion, hurt, and frustration at the situation they had gotten themselves in. Without even offering an explanation she stepped out of the bedroom, not even a thought given that she was only wearing the Cerinian equivalent of a nightgown.

Once again left alone in the room, Brian's jaw gaped open a little bit. Whatever he just did probably hadn't been the right course of action. Hell, it was like first dating Erica all over again. That uncertain first few months where she was simply a friend of a friend he had spent more and more time around, skirting around the real issue of feelings and feeling like a complete idiot whenever he made a mistake and drew her ire.

Either way he couldn't dwell on it too much. That was Marine practicality setting in. They had a mission. Regardless of her confused feelings or even his own, they had to complete it. He hoped to God that all of this wouldn't distract them at a critical moment, but now it was time to force all of it from his mind.

He slid out of the bed as Krystal did, without a single word uttered to the silent surroundings. Hastily donning his fatigues, he strode out the door with the sole point of distracting himself from all the white noise going on in his head. Cleaning guns, doing a mechanical check on the Humvee and selecting a proper loadout would drown out all the thoughts of home. Of Erica. Of Krystal.

They had a planet to save. The rest would sort itself out later.

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