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Acting on your best behaviour

Turn your back on Mother Nature

(Tears for Fears)

---

I awoke groggily in the lap of luxury. Startled into a fuller state of awareness by the unfamiliar surroundings, I looked around, wide-eyed.

White-painted walls accented with dark grey trim lent an air of sleek modernity to the room. A pair of tall silver and black metal floor lamps set on either side of the spacious bed illuminated the area. Small soapstone sculptures of various feral animals were arrayed on glass shelves that lined the far wall. The dark oak paneled floor was strewn with a selection of small black and white circular area rugs.

Craning my neck above me, I saw that the wall over the bed was dominated by an immense abstract painting of... something. I really didn't understand contemporary art. It probably depicted the artist's existential fear of death or something like that, but it really just looked like a bunch of squiggly greyscale lines and dots to my untrained eye.

And the bed. Holy shit, the bed. Fucking king-sized paradise. Double king, if that was a such a thing. I lay sprawled on silken sheets with thread counts so high I couldn't even fathom. My head rested against pillows made from some sort of incredibly soft and supportive material as of yet unknown to science. That was the only feasible explanation for this ungodsly level of comfort. Well, that or I had died and was now in the afterlife or something. Assuming that was a hospitable sort of place

The general feeling of calm and bliss that had settled in my breast quickly dissipated as I heard a soft sound somewhere to my right. Whipping around, I saw a dark shape through the frosted glass partition that stood between the bed and what I presumed to be the open doorway.

Andy strode around the partition into the main space of the room carrying a silver tray table laden with a variety of breakfast fare. The only thing adorning his body was a pendant hanging from a thin gold chain around his neck, bouncing between his fairly generous pectorals.

Then again, 'fairly generous' could probably be used to describe his entire body: he was a godsdamned work of art. Washboard stomach, toned calves, an ass that could crack godsdamn walnuts... Coupled with the sharp, severe features of his face, and his tall, pointed ears, it almost seemed as if his slim, powerful frame had been hewn from stone. Not that I was staring.

"Morning, handsome," Andy said, setting the tray down on the bedside table. "I made some breakfast if you'd like any. Most important meal of the day, you know. Gotta replenish your energy. Well, or we could just get down to other activities,"

I flushed, for the first time becoming acutely aware of my own state of undress. Unbidden, vague fragments of memories of the previous night began to flood my mind--intertwining limbs, murmured phrases, and warm darkness. At the same moment, the headache that had been faintly banging at the back of my skull decided to burst out in full strength.

Andy, seeming to notice my discomfort, tossed me a few aspirin pills from a small paper cup on the tray. Damn, he really had all of the bases covered. Had to at least give him that much. Catching the pills deftly, I swallowed them.

Thanks,_I wanted to say, _but everything would improve massively if you just turned that cute ass of yours around and marched right out of the room. I was feeling just fine before you came in here.

But I didn't say a word.

"So, what's up, champ?" Andy sat down on the edge of the bed. His hand reached under the covers, fondling me.

"I'd appreciate it if you--stop that. Please," I resisted weakly, trying to push away from him as my eyes fluttered involuntarily shut for a moment. He was too insistent, too strong. Fuck, that felt good. But all the same...

"Aw, come on. Don't be such a spoil-sport," Andy grinned, massaging more insistently. "We had a lot of fun last night. Why stop there?"

The jackal slid sensuously across the bed, pressing my hips between his thighs. Leaning in, he planted a kiss on my lips, fingertips tracing their way down my chest. I let out a strangled cry, jerking back and nearly bashing the back of my head against the wooden headboard and trying to throw him off me.

Reacting instinctively, I smacked Andy across the face. He recoiled, springing off the bed and backing towards the frosted-glass partition.

"You hit me!" Andy stated the obvious, touching his fingers to his split lip.

He stared at the red on his fingertips, tasting it. I glowered back at the ebony-skinned jackal, who eyed me reproachfully.

"Give me my clothes back," I snapped. "I want to go home. This was a mistake. I shouldn't have gone home with you last night, I'm sorry,"

"That's an awfully nice way to thank me," Andy replied coolly, folding his arms across his chest.

"Thank you for what?" I snarled, bristling at Andy's indifference. "For getting me drunk for the express purpose of taking me to your fucking room? For taking advantage of me?"

"That's not how I saw it," Andy replied shortly.

"And how did you see it, then? I'm fucking married! I was happy,"

Andy snorted. "No, you fucking weren't. You were a miserable, self-loathing wreck last night. Have been for the past weeks, for that matter. I felt sorry for you, so I comforted you and made you feel good. Or, at least that's how it seemed last night. Looked like you were having quite a blast last night, at least,"

"Go fuck yourself," I blustered.

"People have flings, Roger. It happens,"

"I wouldn't call it a fling if one basically... basically raped the other," I spat.

"Oh, really?" Andy's eyes flashed and the pendant around his neck glinted menacingly. "Is that what you're calling it?"

"Yes. Yes I am. You knew_about Reynard. You _knew I didn't want to fuck anyone. And you certainly_knew I didn't want to fuck _you!"

"That's not what you were saying last night," the jackal scoffed. He picked up the tray, starting to make his way back towards the doorway.

"Fuck you," I snarled. "Give me my clothes and let me leave. I'm not going to ask you again,"

Coming to a halt next to the frosted-glass partition, Andy hesitated as if he were trying to make up his mind about something. His frame shook visibly, eyes ablaze with anger. The jackal set down the breakfast tray on the floor next to himself. Then he snapped his fingers.

The world exploded around me. I curled into a ball, crying out in pain as a thousand red-hot needles stabbed into my flesh. It was as if someone were trying to dig out my innards with an ice cream scoop and replace them with molten lead. But moments later, the sensation passed just as suddenly as it had begun.

I blinked my eyes open and then gasped aloud, sitting bolt upright in shock.

"The fuck?" I whispered.

I was still in bed, all right. But the bed was fucking enormous. It sprawled out like a godsdamned landscape on all sides. My back rested against a massive pillow that stretched out like a wall above and behind me. The rest of the room was proportioned similarly, for someone much, much larger than myself.

And that 'someone' happened to be Andy. He stared intently at me, a smirk on his lips. The enormous jackal started to stride slowly towards the bed, his every step vibrating the expansive surface of the bed.

"Oh my gods--did you--what--how--" I spluttered wide-eyed.

"Oops," Andy rumbled.

*****

Gods damn, Guillam made excellent cannelloni. If I was locked in a room with nothing but a ceiling-high stack of the things, well... I wouldn't have a problem with that in the slightest. The cross fox shook his head mirthfully as he passed me yet another one of the stuffed pasta tubes sent directly from the heavens by way of his kitchen.

"You know, Peter, I really need to get your recipe for these things," I said, wolfing it down.

"Never gonna get it out of me," Guillam chuckled.

"So, why did you drag me out to your, ah, bachelor pad on this fine drizzly evening?" I asked, wiping the corner of my mouth with a napkin.

Guillam shrugged. "I just figured it's been awhile since we had a chance to talk about things that didn't involve, you know, shop-talk or what have you,"

"Oh, that reminds me. I think our next step needs to be interviews. Anyone who could have any connection to Tab, who might even have an _inkling_of where she went--"

"--Let's give that a rest," Guillam sighed. "You've had all day to think about that. Now is time for cannelloni and conversation. Non-work varieties of conversation. Sound good?"

I grumbled softly but nodded.

"Here. Ease your pain with another cannellone,"

"Is that what you call a single one of those things?"

"I guess,"

"Well, I never had any usage for the singular. Not when you can eat multiple,"

Guillam laughed, his eyes screwing up. "So, how have things been with you? Are you still seeing whatshername? Ali or whatever?"

"Nah," I shook my head. "She turned out to be a psycho high-maintenance bitch. But what about you? How're things with the boyfriend?"

Guillam expelled air through his lips as he got up to clear away the dishes. "I ended that. Fucking one-way trip to Crazyville, that one, if you ask me,"

"That's too bad," I said, stacking our plates and grabbing the wine glasses. "He seemed pretty nice,"

"Seemed being the key term. Though I kinda miss him sometimes, I guess. But it's for the best in the long run," Guillam shrugged. He produced a steaming carafe from the island. "Coffee?"

"Always,"

"Besides. It's nice to be out fishing again," Guillam grinned, passing me a mug. "Casual dating is nice. Didn't know how much I'd missed that. I met this one guy last weekend. Really funny. Plus, he's a surgeon so he's fucking loaded. Oh, and he can do this thing where he--"

"--This coffee is fucking amazing!" I gushed enthusiastically (perhaps a bit too enthusiastically), really not wanting to hear whatever kinky shit probably constituted the conclusion to my partner's sentence. Sometimes he needed to filter himself a little better. I fell silent, staring at the weird painting of tropical flowers hanging over Guillam's dining table. "Hey, I have a... question about something,"

I waited for Guillam's response, but he was staring into the middle distance with a blissful expression on his face. No doubt he was busy fantasizing about his new doctor boy-toy.

"Guillam?" I prompted gently.

"Huh? Oh. Yeah. Sorry," Guillam shook his head as if he were coming out of a deep sleep. "What's up?"

"Oh, never mind. It's nothing," I replied quickly, rethinking my decision.

"C'mon! Throw me a bone,"

I drummed my fingers on the island. "It's just, I'm really worried about Roger. He's been in a downward spiral ever since Reynard's accident, and I feel like it's, I dunno, my brotherly duty or something to help him out. But I have no fucking clue what to do to for him,"

Taking a sip from his mug, Guillam crossed over into the living area of his condo. I followed after him. We sat down on the sofa, a well-loved old thing that smelled vaguely of eggnog, for some reason. Must have been one hell of a holiday party. I waited for an answer as Guillam stared pensively into the dark liquid in his mug as if it would provide him with some sort of brilliant answer to the question I'd asked.

"I dunno, Warren," the cross fox sighed. "I wish I had something to tell you, but I've got nothing. I'm no Dear Abby. I'm just a guy who sucks at relationships. I'm sorry, man,"

"It's fine. Shouldn't have sprung it on you like that," I took another gulp of that dark, bitter ichor of life. Suddenly, a deep red anger welled up. "Why does our job take everything? Why does it get to claim all of us? Why don't we get to go home in the evening and have lives like everyone else?"

"I--I don't know," Guillam heaved a sigh. "I'm just the fount of godsdamn answers today, aren't I?"

"Hey, I shouldn't have just blathered on like that. Preaching to the fucking choir," I set my mug down on the coffee table. "It just isn't fair. We don't have a chance. The job takes everything. Or is it just us? Are we both that fucked up?"

"You? Maybe," Guillam laughed. "But me, not a chance. Straight as a godsdamn arrow,"

"Metaphorically speaking, of course,"

"Oh, fuck you,"

"You'd love that, wouldn't you,"

"No comment,"

We sat in silence for a while, contemplating the vast unsympathetic universe, or the nature of love, or those amazing cannelloni. Mostly that lattermost item. At least on my end of things. Can't account for the inner machinations of Peter's mind. Mmm... Maybe I could take home leftovers.

"Look, for what it's worth, I think you're a good brother. At least whenever I've seen you two together,"

"Guess that means you missed all the times I beat the living snot out of that idiot fox growing up," I snorted.

Guillam rolled his eyes. "Please. Knowing Rodge, I've got a feeling it was more the other way around. He's a tough one. Scrappy," his expression softened. "But really. There aren't any magic bullets or top-secret sure-fire method on the brother front. He likes you. He respects you. Just... be you. Fuck, that sounds cheesy.

"But it isn't about you doing something, I think. If he wants something from you, then he'll ask. Or you can figure it out with, I dunno, your creepy twin sixth sense or whatever. That's a thing, right?"

I shot Guillam a dirty look.

"Okay, maybe not. But he'll work through it. He has to. And he will. He. So don't burden yourself with that, okay?" Guillam punched me in the shoulder before glancing back towards the kitchen. "Alright now, big guy. We've got a gigantic ferretess to find. And I've got way too many dishes to take care of,"

"You're on your own there, bro," I teased, scoping out a kitchen towel.

*****

Everything shifted underneath me as Andy sat down on the edge of the bed. Resting elbows on knees, he regarded me predatorily out of the corner of his eye.

"You... you shrank me," I breathed, scarcely able to believe the words as they passed my lips.

"So it would seem," the jackal chuckled.

Reaching his arms overhead as if he were stretching, Andy leaned back, falling onto the bed. The force of the impact tossed me several body-lengths (or inches, all things considered, I supposed) into the air.

Andy looked over at me, smirking darkly. His arm reached out for me. I scrambled away as quickly as I could manage, but my resistance proved futile. The jackal's fingers wrapped around my torso, plucking me up and ferrying me towards his face.

"Guess I have a new toy to play with," Andy commented idly, his breath buffeting my chest and face.

I tried to muster a response, but couldn't manage any more than a whimper.

"Why did you do this to me?" I breathed.

"Because you irritated me. A lot. I don't take too kindly to that sort of... insolence," the jackal's enormous face adopted an expression of bored contempt. "Here I go buying you drinks, showing you a good time... And how do you thank me? You accuse me of rape. How fucking preposterous is that?"

Andy dangled me over his mouth, teeth flashing. His tongue darted out, its tip caressing my stomach and thighs.

"Mm, you taste really good," Andy said.

My body quaked in fear and disgust.

"Aw, I'm just messin' with ya!" the jackal grinned mischievously as he sat up, leaning against the headboard. "I haven't actually eaten someone in... jeez, decades, probably,"

Andy flicked me up into the air with a twist of his wrist, catching me in his palm. His fingers curled up slightly as I struggled to catch my breath. I was trapped.

"But..." I didn't know where to begin. "But how did you do this to me?"

"Let's just say it's a talent of mine," the jackal replied. "You of all people shouldn't be surprised by the ability to... take liberties with one's size. You were quite impressive in San Javier a little while back, by the way. Made the national news,"

"I don't want to talk about that," I mumbled, trying to avoid his eye contact.

"Coulda done with a wardrobe similar to that other fox, though, if you ask me. Hot stuff. You're too sexy for those stupid compression shorts you wore," the jackal smirked.

"Shut up," I flushed.

"Better watch out, though. Some sick fucks on the Internet have some pretty compromising pictures of you. What people do to satisfy an itch.

"I guess in a way it's almost good Reynard's down for the count. Hate to have him hear or see what others have been saying about his ol' Hubbyzilla--"

"Shut UP!" I bellowed, struggling in his grip. "You take that back right fucking now!"

Andy regarded me impassively, rubbing his pendant between thumb and forefinger absentmindedly. I fell silent, my pitiful struggle tailing off. Now that I was at chest-level (and now that the pendant was roughly the same size as me), I had a better look. It was made of a dull, weighty gold hammered into the shape of an oval with a capital letter 'T' fused to the bottom of it. An ankh, if memory served. Growing up, I'd really wanted to be an archaeologist. Though apparently that field is sadly deficient in rolling boulders of death and golden idols. So I guess my present career choice made up for that in the thrills department. In retrospect, what I wouldn't give for a good potsherd or ancient coin.

"Like it?" Andy smirked, noticing my gaze. "Something of a family heirloom. Only thing I ever got from the folks. Well, besides the family jewels, of course,"

"A 'talent' of yours?" I asked, refocusing on the issue at hand. "Andy, what kind of bullshit nonsense is that? Actually, tell you what. Cut the crap and just fucking un-shrink me,"

Andy smirked down at me, shaking his head slightly.

"You really want to know my, ah, secret? Jeez, you're a nosy little fellow. Think you can just insult a guy and then expect him to open up?" he asked. "Well, fortunately for you, I'm feeling a little talky this morning,"

Suddenly, Andy's hand lifted upwards, depositing me roughly on his broad shoulder. I grabbed onto the base of the jackal's neck to steady myself as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, getting to his feet.

My stomach plummeted as the jackal stood. Risking the glance, I leaned over to look at the floor. Damn, it was a long way down. Andy's shoulder shifted back and forth as he walked out of the bedroom, a jarring shock accompanying every footfall.

The rest of the jackal's apartment was every bit as luxurious as the bedroom indicated it might be. Seriously, how many rooms did he have? It boggled the mind. And with the sheer number of luxurious furniture items and top-of-the-line gadgets arrayed about the space, it had to have cost him a fortune to put everything together. How on earth did the guy afford all of this shit on a fucking tailor's salary, much less one with my husband's shop? I mean, Rey ran a good shop and all, but we weren't exactly rolling in dough.

"Do you, like sell meth on the side or something?" I asked as Andy passed by a flat screen television that would have been colossal even at my normal size.

The jackal's chuckle resonated through my body. "Can't say as I do,"

The jackal pulled open a glass door leading onto a balcony bedecked in various houseplants that looked like they'd seen better days. It was clear out (for probably the first time that month, after an extended period of rain showers), the pallid early morning Sun casting its pale light across the city.

Glancing across the skyline, I realized that Andy's not-so-humble abode was a motherfucking penthouse. And the penthouse of the top-of-the-line (and top-dollar) Linacre Apartment Homes, to boot. Real estate in Saaduuts was no laughing matter thanks to the hefty load of corrupt landlords. I mean, Rey and I could barely afford our shoebox in Fitzrovia with both of us working our tails off. With the Linacre Apartment Homes, we're talking some seriously upscale fucking shit here. Drug dealing of some sort had to figure into the matter somewhere; there was no doubt about it.

"Ooh, a bit nippy out," Andy commented, leaning against the wrought-iron bannister (and prompting me to cling desperately onto his neck--a fall from the top of a skyscraper would kill me even at five-eleven, to say nothing of my present diminutive stature).

"Maybe that's because it's the middle of winter," I conjectured wildly. "Or because you should probably put some godsdamned clothes on,"

Andy's shrug prompted a minor heart attack in me. I really didn't fancy getting tossed off the top of a skyscraper. The jackal turned around, returning through the door into the kitchen (marble countertops, wine cooler under the island, hands-free faucet, state-of-the-art convection oven... the works).

Andy deposited me on the dark marble of the island, crossing over to the cabinets to pull out a bowl.

"I hope you don't mind if I have a bite to eat," the jackal said, pouring a cascade of HunnyNut-Os into the bowl. "Gotta keep myself nourished, you know. And a morsel such as yourself starts to look pretty scrumptious after awhile,"

Pouring milk into the bowl, Andy plunged a spoon into the scrumptious morsels he would be consuming rather than myself. The jackal sat down on a barstool, setting his breakfast next to me on the island.

"Oh, how inconsiderate of me!" Andy exclaimed. "I forgot all about feeding you. What a terrible host I am,"

With the tip of his spoon, Andy fished a single HunnyNut-O out of his bowl, depositing it on the island in front of me.

"Chow down, tiny,"

"I dunno, I'd say you've already blown it," I grumbled sourly, folding my arms across my chest. "Only a pretty shitty host would shrink his guest,"

All the same, I was pretty hungry. It felt as if it had been ages since I'd last eaten. Fuck it. Sitting down cross-legged on the countertop, I dragged the piece of cereal closer. It was the size of an extra-large pizza to me.

"This doesn't get you off the hook, you know," I persisted through a mouthful of HunnyNut-O. "Spill the beans,"

"You're a persistent one, aren't you?" Andy chewed thoughtfully. "Alright, look. I'll spill. But on one condition. You need to fucking zip it while I put it all out. It's pretty crazy stuff. Really crazy stuff. All right? Do we have a deal?"

"I knew you were a meth dealer," I scoffed triumphantly.

Andy's fingers drummed on the table.

"Nope," the jackal shook his head. He fidgeted with the pendant again. "See... well... I won't mince words. No point in that. The thing is, I'm kinda a god,"

*****

"Gods damn it!" Morgan spluttered, slamming her fist into the keyboard. "Why can't this motherfucking report write itself?"

"Well, I can guarantee you that jumble of letters probably won't help out the report all that much," I commented, gesturing at her fist's handiwork on the computer screen.

"Do you have that screen report for me or not?" the pine marten prompted pointedly.

"Of course. Would I let you down? Never," I tossed a manila folder on top of the stack of other folders on her desk. If I didn't know better, I would have thought they were breeding. "Not that it says anything,"

In the months following what MACRO blandly called the 'San Javier Showdown', Becca had taken things up several notches in the research department. All of a sudden, she was so sure we could crack this gigantism thing. It had to be something we could detect.

She implemented full studies of every person who suffered a growth episode. That meant lots of blood draws and even more hours putting samples through various screens and panels of assays. Yippee.

But guess what? We got jack shit. Absolutely nothing noteworthy could be found. Yet it still continued. Endless cases, endless manila folders filled with oh so much nothing.

"And guess what? This bitch is actually trying to sue us," Morgan snapped, jabbing her finger into the folder. "Apparently when you try to use a streetlamp as a toothpick and hurt your teeth, it's our fucking fault. It isn't on you for being a dumb-ass or anything like that,"

"Pity. She had a nice ass," I sighed, leaning against Morgan's cluttered desk.

"You men are such swine," Morgan rolled her eyes. "All vixens are dumb bimbos in my book,"

"I was kidding. Jeez," I snorted. "Besides. It's against my policy to date people who are a few dozen feet taller than me,"

"Guess Tabitha's safe from your conquests then," Morgan chuckled. "How's it going on the dating front, by the way? I bet you're getting tons of tail,"

I pursed my lips, heaving a sigh. "Well, let's just say this dragon hasn't exactly kidnapped any princesses of late,"

"Please tell me you didn't use that clunker on anyone. I expressly forbade that, if you recall," Morgan shook her head.

"Hey, I kinda liked it. But I'll learn to never trust my judgment, I guess,"

"Hey. I never said that," Morgan's eyebrows raised as she adopted a gently concerned expression. "You'll find your match,"

"I'm not so sure about that. Turns out girls don't like guys who come from... not here,"

"Hey. People can be close-minded assholes. This one time, I met this really cute guy. Except once he had me in his bed, he suddenly remembered that he 'just didn't like mustelids'. Fucking bastard,"

"That stinks. I'm sorry," I said.

"Eh, it's no big deal. He was a dick anyway," Morgan shrugged. She glanced over at me. "Say. Want to get something to eat? Say tomorrow night or something?"

I smiled a little. "Yeah. I'd like that,"

*****

I blinked at the jackal towering over me at the table. Then I laughed.

"You know, good one. A god. Heh. Great one. You're hilarious," I stammered, not really processing the words that had come out of Andy's mouth.

Andy stared down at me impassively, lips pursed. "What did I tell you about shutting the fuck up? I'm not bullshitting you," he sighed heavily, drumming his fingers on the table once more. "Look, tiny. I'm laying it all out for you. Lemme just figure out how to, ah, proceed with this,"

"I'm all ears," I muttered, leaning up against the base of Andy's cereal bowl.

"Okay, so I guess I'm not really a 'god', strictly speaking," Andy started.

"Knew it," I snorted. "So you can pack up this stupid party trick and let me go,"

Andy held up a finger for silence and I reluctantly complied.

"I mean, I don't know if I'd really consider myself a god, really. That's just a bunch of lightning bolts and smoke and mirrors if you ask me. Nonsense.

"But apparently the inhabitants of your little world seem to think that, ah, _individuals_of my variety checked all the boxes, so those guys just went on and signed us up for the job or whatever.

"Hey, not that I'm complaining at all. Being worshipped by the masses? Having my every want and need attended to? Don't mind if I do. Sure beats the bullshit I had to put up with back home," Andy smirked.

"Er, last I checked, there wasn't exactly a Church of Andy on every street corner," I snorted.

"Oh, yeah, this was all back, I dunno, 2000 BCE or something like that. Things have fallen by the wayside a little since then," Andy sighed theatrically, resting his cheek on his palm and looking down at me.

I blinked. "Wait. Did you say 2000--"

"--You heard me right," Andy grinned. "I'm pushing, jeez, 6000 years now. But I can't say it doesn't come without its detractors. Thousands of years old and I still get carded at all the bars,"

"Why don't you just shrink the bartender if it bothers you so much?" I suggested sourly.

"Then he wouldn't be able to make me the drinks I wanted as easily!" Andy pointed out.

Touché.

"What do you mean 'individuals of your variety', anyway?" I pressed.

"I was getting there, if you'd just keep your trap shut for a few minutes," Andy sighed. "I'm not exactly from... these parts. Way back then, a few of my companions and I crashed here while on a little jaunt between planes of reality. I blame Ralph. Fucking prick. He'd been drinking, I just know it. Not that he'll ever take responsibility for the whole catastrophe.

"At first, it turned out to be a total loss. Stuck in the middle of some baking, sandy desert with no way to return home. But I suppose as it all turned out, we ought to thank that falcon-y son of a bitch, because when we wandered out of the desert, we ran into a town full of folks just throwing themselves at us.

"And, dude. This was seriously the best. I got a sweet-ass temple to crash at, some seriously blinged-out headdresses, collars, and armbands, the fucking works.

"Only downside was those weird little man-skirts the yokels wore. Attire has definitely improved since, in my humble opinion. Well, I guess that and the fact that they were fucking hopeless at pronouncing my name. I mean, how the fuck do you hear 'Andy' and get 'Anpu'? Or fucking 'Anubis'? Seriously. It boggles the mind. Just had to put up with that, I suppose. How I sacrificed in the name of assimilation. Not that I was really aiming at _assimilation,_really. I just wanted to have fun," Andy grinned. "Simple needs,"

"So there are more of you?"

"Well, there were when we all showed up. To be honest, I've lost track of most of 'em. Couple of 'em bit it right around the Event. But I still see Izzy around some--"

"--Wait, you remember the Event?" I asked, wide-eyed. There were historians who would kill for half an hour of chat with this guy.

"Oh, that old thing? Yeah, I guess so. A bit. I remember you guys before you got all... fuzzy and furry and stuff," he gestured at my vulpine form. "Really a crazy time, to put it lightly. Chaos everywhere. But I suppose that's what happens when the world's population suddenly finds itself transformed out of the blue into anthropomorphic animals under the most mysterious of circumstances,"

"But... how did it happen?" I breathed, shocked and interested enough to distract myself from my present situation.

Andy merely shrugged, the hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

"But yeah, there were a handful of us folks," he pressed on, ignoring my continued efforts to focus on the Event. "We all had our... talents. Powers, if you will. Suppose that might have been what made everyone view us as gods in the first place, I reckon. Izzy could make whatever she wanted just appear out of thin air. Hank could fucking teleport wherever he wanted to go...

"...and you can render your houseguests bite-sized," I grumbled sullenly.

Andy smirked, reaching down with his spoon. He scooped me up in it, conveying me up to his face. I could feel the cool metal surface underneath myself, still damp with residual milk and saliva.

"Oh, I can make folks really big, too," Andy grinned mischievously, teeth flashing. "It's much more fun to play the wrathful god when even the tallest of buildings barely scrape your knees,"

"I still think teleportation is cooler," I shrugged.

Of course I had to go and get mixed up with the guy who could pretty much create giants on a whim. Just another glorious godsdamned day in the life of me.

"You know, how about you prove it. Why don't you show me some of that biggifying power? Say on me? I'm five-eleven, in case you'd forgotten. Not an inch shorter, not an inch taller,"

"Well, you seem like you're a few inches shorter at the moment," Andy commented, setting the spoon down on the countertop.

All of a sudden, the jackal (jackal-god?) seemed to be very preoccupied with something else. He disappeared down the hall and returned several minutes later, actually wearing something. I had to admit, I was perhaps a little disappointed that he'd covered up that gorgeous body of his. But he looked just as good in that slim-cut suit. Hot damn.

"Much as I love chatting, I gotta get to work. Catch ya later, big guy," Andy said over his shoulder, pulling on his coat as he headed out the door.

"Hey, WAIT!" I bellowed after him. My voice echoed thinly around the cavernous kitchen.

I slumped down sullenly on the vast expanse of the marble countertop. Well, shit. There went my day.

*****

"All right, so what can you tell me about that day? The 28th of September," I prompted again.

"Last day before Tab disappeared?" the beaver grunted.

"Yeah," I nodded.

"Whaddaya want to know about it?"

"Anything you can recall,"

"I told you before. I've all ready told everything I know to the cops. Not sure what else I can do for you,"

I tried to suppress the heavy sigh of frustration, leaning back in my chair as I looked around the small office. Temporary file boxes were stacked against one wall while a houseplant that appeared to be on its last legs made a sad attempt at rendering the space homier.

"Yes, I understand that. But we're opening up a new investigation," I explained ever so patiently for perhaps the billionth time that afternoon. "Separate from the one conducted by Saaduuts PD. So we have to do our own inquiries,"

"The cop who asked me all the questions last time took a lot of notes. I bet if you asked nicely, he'd give them to you,"

"I understand that, sir. But I'd rather just talk with you in person. Maybe he missed something. I really just want to find Tabitha. That's all any of us wants here. I'm sure that's what you want,"

"Yeah, sure. She was a good gal,"

"_Is_a good gal," I corrected, unwilling to believe anything to the contrary. "So can you answer the question?"

"Sure," the foreman shrugged.

"Excellent," I sighed, massaging my temples with one hand.

Gods, if he had just agreed the first bloody time, we wouldn't have had to waste all this time in the first place, would we?

"It was a pretty normal day, all things considered," the foreman started. "We were doing a demolition project. That old secondary school near the monument park. We were building a shopping mall.

"Gods, that contract was a bitch and a half to win. Fucking fools at Shelton & Shelton think they can win every bidding auction. But those fuckers had it coming. We came out on top that time around.

"Anyway, we managed to cut down significantly on tear-down times thanks to that little walking, talking wrecking ball. Tab gets a little bit too into that stuff. Guess it's a nice chance to blow off steam or whatever.

"She was busy with that for the better part of the day. Took off a little early because she had a couple of errands to run or whatever. Didn't see an issue with that, so I let her go.

"That's about it, I guess. She didn't show up the next day. Or the one after that. You get the point,"

"Do you remember anything unusual in the area? Anything at all?" I asked.

"It was a long time ago,"

"Of course. I understand. But take some time. Do you remember anything weird at all? Anything at all could really help us," I pressed gently.

"I dunno. Cutteslowe's a pretty weird neighborhood, if you ask me,"

"Definitely not going to disagree with you there," I snorted.

I took a swig of the coffee the foreman had offered me earlier and regretted it almost instantly. Lukewarm black sludge. Yum. I would be willing to bet that gasoline would taste better. In a town known for and addicted to a nice cup of Joe, why did so many seem incapable of making a good brew?

"Now that I think about it, there was a car. It kept hovering around the area. Driving around the block like nobody would notice it. Fucking idiot,"

My ears perked up and I sat forward in the chair a little. "A car, eh?"

"Yeah. Black sedan," the beaver nodded, his face screwed up in thought. "I think it had a hood ornament of some sort. Little silver thing. Maybe a pair of wings or something? It's been a long time,"

I could have kissed that chunky old beaver. A car, or better yet one with an identifying mark, now that was something we could track.

"Guillam!" I enthused over the phone as I stepped out of the office after the interview concluded. "I think we've got something,"

It wasn't much, but it was a lead nonetheless.

*****

The click of the lock in the front door announced Andy's return. The jackal had a sour expression on his face as he stalked into the kitchen. Tossing his mail onto the surface of the counter, Andy plucked me up without so much as a second glance.

"What the fuck, Andy!?" I bellowed as the great ebony-skinned fist encircled me.

When Andy's hand opened again, we were in the bedroom again. Andy slumped onto the bed, dropping me onto the pillow. The surface was soft and cushy, but the fall from that height still jarred me.

"What the fuck, Andy?" I repeated myself. "Seriously, what the fucking fuck? You left me here. All day. I missed work. I could hear my mobile going off all day. You can't just fucking abandon me like that," I snarled.

Andy glanced at me sidelong. "I can do whatever I want with mortals,"

"I'm not your property," I replied.

Andy's hand swept me up. He stared at me impassively, as if he were calculating what to do next.

"It would appear you are at the moment," he commented.

Leaning his back against the headboard, Andy began to flip me from finger to finger like I was some kind of coin. Not the most comfortable thing ever.

"Shit day at work," Andy confessed at length.

Flipping me into his palm, the jackal kicked his shoes off. He leaned down, pulling off his socks with his free hand and flinging them across the room.

"I couldn't tell," I grumbled. "Why don't you blow off steam like a normal person? Grab a pint at the local dive pub or something,"

"In case you didn't listen to a single word I said this morning, I'm not normal," Andy spat contemptfully. "I'm better than normal. I could blow off steam by reducing that motherfucking tailor shop to _toejam_if I really wanted,"

"But you didn't. Did you?"

"No. I must be getting soft,"

"Well, if you're so soft, why don't you make me normal-sized again,"

Andy expelled his breath forcibly through his lips, rolling his eyes. He snapped his fingers and in a flurry of movement, I was normal-sized again, straddling the jackal-god's chest in bewilderment.

"There we go," Andy grinned, rolling over on top of me. "Say, seeing as you're all pre-naked, why don't you help me get over my shitty workday?"

I managed to shove him off from on top of me. Rounding the bed, I found the pile of my clothes. Andy wolf-whistled as I leaned over to grab up the pile.

"Aw, c'mon. I'm sure tons of people would kill for a round in the sack with a fucking god," Andy gestured grandiosely at himself. "And you've already had a taste of the goods. Why not come back? I value repeat customers"

"Well, I... I can't... Rey..." I stammered. The clothes slipped through my fingertips, landing in a haphazard pile on the floor once again.

Andy stared at me for a moment, a bemused expression on his face. Heaving a sigh, he slid off the desk, gliding towards me. He dropped to one knee, gathering up my garments.

"Go see him," he said, pressing the clothes to my chest as he got to his feet. "Visit Reynard. You clearly want to do that,"

I blinked. "I really don't understand you,"

"I try to cultivate the whole 'tall, dark, and mysterious' vibe," Andy grinned, helping me to button up my shirt (really can do that on my own, thanks). "Sometimes 'really tall, dark, and mysterious',"

"Mmm," I murmured noncommittally.

"Hey, look, if you ever want to have some fun, my door's always open," Andy called after me. "I certainly don't mind letting you show me a good time,"

"That's what your hand is for, asshat," I retorted.

I shut the front door before the jackal-god had a chance to shrink me to the size of a domino again. I would never again allow that to happen.

*****

I needed to sleep. I needed to sleep so badly. It was all I wanted. But they wouldn't let me. They'd kept noise blasting over the speakers around the clock for more hours than I could count.

My vision exploded in a field of white as the floodlights suddenly came on. The speakers shut off just as suddenly. I could hear my ragged breathing over the ringing of my ears. My heart began beating rapidly. Oh no, oh no, oh no...

A door somewhere in the vicinity of my hip swung open. I craned my neck, trying to get a look at the person who had entered, but all I managed to do was make my sore muscles ache even more.

"What is your name?" demanded the voice of the unseen person.

I opened my mouth to respond, but all that came out was a whimper.

"What are you?" the voice pushed.

"I just want to go home," I managed to stammer, my voice cracking.

"That's it. Hit her with the water again," the voice snapped.

The door slammed shut and I let out a loud whimper. I knew what was coming next. Sure enough, several moments later, a number of water faucets in the low ceiling of the room turned on, blasting me with jets of frigid water. Crying out in pain and fear, I tried to make myself as small as possible. The water bit and tore at my fur and flesh as I tried to curl myself into a ball. I was too exhausted to beg for mercy or leniency. I just wanted it to end.

When the water jets shut off, I shifted laboriously back into a seated position. Every muscle, bone, and joint in my body cried out in pain as I moved. I was left sitting in several feet of standing water as it drained slowly through a couple of grates in the corners of the room. The thin cotton shift they had given me to wear after taking my clothes was sodden and I was soaked to the bone. I brushed a wet lock of hair out of my eyes as a sob escaped my lips.

The light went off again, plunging me into cave-like darkness.

They were going to take the shift next, I just knew it. Then I would have nothing. I would _be_nothing, a nameless, wretched thing locked away in some cell located fuck knows where. A feral.

The cell was much too small for me. I had to sit with my back pressed against the wall and my neck bowed, back of my head scraping against the low ceiling. It was impossible for me to stretch out my legs. I had to keep them folded, pressed against my chest with the soles of my feet resting against the opposite wall. I'd been stuck like that so long, I'd almost forgotten what it was like to be able to stretch out. A certain steady level of persistent, aching discomfort had become the norm.

I drew in a startled gasp as I heard the door swing open once again. Someone--I didn't know if whether was my interrogator or not--entered softly, the door clicking shut. Soft footsteps sloshed through the water toward me. I tried to shrink away from the advancing aggressor, but I didn't exactly have much space to work with.

There was a pressure on my hip and I stiffened. No. Not that again. Please.

On a few prior occasions, my mysterious captors had decided to take advantage of the helpless ferretess at their disposal. That was worse than anything else they'd done to me. They'd come in pairs, small groups, crawling across my body like insects, going whatever they wanted, doing whatever they pleased. I'd managed to crush one of them inside myself, but all that accomplished was earning me a week in the sweat room.

But the pressure traveled up the length of my torso and across my chest, grappling along the damp cotton material. It came to a rest on top of my collarbone.

"Tabitha," hissed a voice. "Tabitha. Don't forget that's your name,"

I recognized the voice. From the one time it had been light enough in the room for me to see much of anything, I knew that it belonged to a lynx who (far as I could tell) worked in this strange, terrifying hellhole where I was trapped. He seemed younger than many of his... coworkers, though I couldn't be sure about that, as most of them obscured their faces when they were in the same room as me. I didn't know his name or anything about him besides the fact that he was the only one around who treated me like a person.

"I'm so hungry," I whispered.

I had barely eaten anything real in the time since I'd been knocked out cold and woken up here (weeks? months? years?), but they must have been providing me with some variety of nourishment, as I hadn't bit it yet. My guess? Probably something in those giant motherfucking needles they loved jabbing into my side every once in a while. Certainly made me feel like shit, but apparently it kept me clinging to some semblance of life. If you could call it that.

"I'm really sorry," the lynx replied softly. "I couldn't smuggle anything in today. They're getting really antsy with security,"

"You're food," I commented softly, almost as an aside.

I could feel the lynx freeze.

"I... I suppose that's true," he said after a lengthy pause. "But you wouldn't do that. You couldn't. That's not what you would do. You're too good for that," he added, a desperate hitch in his voice.

It would be so easy. He was right there. I could muster up enough strength to reach up, pluck that morsel off my collarbone, and stuff him into my mouth. It wouldn't be much, but it would be something.

"Everyone needs to eat. Good or bad," I choked. "But you're right. Go away before you tempt me more,"

"Don't let them break you, Tabitha," the lynx insisted again, sliding down toward the ground. "You're doing so well right now. Please. Don't let them break you. Don't give them that,"

"What are they even trying to accomplish?" I asked desperately. "Why are they doing this to me?"

"I don't know what I've gotten myself into here," was all the lynx managed as the door slid open.

The door shut as my only real connection to anything that made me feel remotely like a person disappeared. I was alone again in the dark and damp and cold.

*****

The penne pasta tasted terrible. It always did when I made it. Reynard knew how to make the alfredo sauce just perfect, creamy and rich with just a hint of garlic and spicy red pepper. But I wasn't Reynard, and Reynard wasn't exactly in a position to cook much of anything at the moment.

I'd thought the visit to my husband's bedside at hospital would make me feel better. But really all it did was widen the void in my heart a little more.

On the way home, I'd stopped by the corner store, looking for something with which to fill that emptiness. But try as I might, I couldn't quite shake Morgan's nagging voice from the back of my mind.

Alright, marten, you win this time.

So I'd gone home completely dry. I regretted that presently. Nothing would dampen the hurt like more drink. Make things seem fuzzy and distorted and remotely okay, if only for a while. Now all I had was the long, bitter hangover of existence.

All I wanted to do was sleep. That was one of my key motivators anymore. I woke up wishing I could get just a few more minutes--or hours, let's be honest--of shut-eye, and I anticipated each approaching night's sleep with something akin to rapture.

So I left the dirty dishes in the sink with all the other ones and headed into the bedroom. Leaving my clothes in a pile next to the door, I wandered over to the bed, falling onto it. I lay there on my stomach for a while, drinking in the softness and warmth of the down comforter.

"Don't know if I've mentioned it before, but you really do have a cute ass. Don't know if I'd count it as 'nice', but 'cute' for sure,"

My heart racing at least a kazillion miles an hour, I sat bolt upright in bed, staring around my room for the source of the voice.

"Who's there?" I called.

I let out a small cry as I spotted my intruder. Standing on the bedside table was a minuscule Andy, no more than three inches tall. He leaned against the tabletop lamp, arms folded across his chest and that stupid shit-eating grin on his face.

Andy opened his mouth. "I thought I'd--"

My balled-up fist ensured that the tiny jackal never got to finish his sentence. I brought it slamming down onto the surface of the nightstand, intending to flatten him. Andy was too quick, dodging just in time.

"Hey, that's no way to treat houseguests!" Andy spat indignantly.

"Oh, that's fucking rich coming from you," I laughed. "Besides. I don't think you can count folks as 'guests' when they decide break in without permission,"

"Okay,okay," Andy said, holding up a hand in surrender. "Just don't go trying to smash me flat or whatever. Really not cool,"

I pursed my lips but sat with my back against the headboard. Andy, taking that as an affirmation of my understanding, sat down on the edge of the bedside table, his legs swinging over the edge.

"So, this morning," the jackal said after a pause.

"This morning," I restated flatly.

"I just wanted to say that I... I kinda botched things a little this morning and all,"

"Kinda botched things?" I arched my brow.

"Yeah, that's what I just said," Andy replied, his tone becoming a little irritated. "Are you just going to go and repeat everything I say?"

"Well, all's I'm saying is, if you're trying to apologize to me here, you're doing a hell of a job,"

"I'm a god," Andy exclaimed dramatically. "I'm not exactly in the practice of apologizing. I'm not beholden to mortals,"

"And you're such a cute little god, aren't you?" I smirked, holding my forefinger and thumb a few inches apart.

Reaching over, I encircled my hand around Andy's body and lifted him off the table and towards my face.

"My, how the tables have turned," I snorted, squeezing the jackal gently.

"I dunno, I figured I'd make it up to you," Andy winced a little in my grip. "Let you have your way with me instead,"

"Oh, really?" I asked, resting my thumbnail just under the jackal's chin, pressing perhaps not so gently against his throat. "Anything I want?"

"Wow,someone's dark," Andy gulped, his tone nervous. "I was just thinking more along the lines of you dropping me on your stomach and letting me play with your dick or something like that,"

I grimaced as Andy bit his lip.

"Nah. Not really my style," I said, dropping the jackal back onto the bedside table. "Just wanted to see if I could make you nervous,"

"Well, you didn't," Andy insisted vehemently.

"Whatever, big guy," I winked. My face grew serious. "Now, why are you really here? If you think you're here for another one-night stand, you've got another thing coming,"

"Well, wouldn't that be a two-night stand?" Andy asked facetiously. "But really. If you're lonely, you don't need to be,"

"I have Reynard," I pointed out hollowly.

"You have a vegetable lying in a bed,"

My fist missed again.

"Do_not_ say that about Rey," I fumed.

But I knew it was true, in a sense.

Andy hopped off the bedside table and onto the surface of the bed, wading across the comforter to pat the knuckle of my right index finger.

"Look, I know we got off on a bad foot. Maybe a really bad one. But I wanted to put all of that behind us. I'm not Reynard, but maybe I can keep you company wh--"

"--Get out of my apartment," I growled, my voice low and threatening. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but whatever it is, it isn't working. You can't do that. Why the fuck do you suddenly care about me? It's out of the fucking blue.

"I really don't get any of this. You pull this whole hot-shot god thing and then you try to get all sensitive and touchy-feely. As if any of that means jack shit. Get fucked,"

All of a sudden, Andy's body filled the majority of the room. Crouching on all fours with his shoulder blades brushing against the ceiling and one hand digging into the carpet on either side of the bed, the oversized jackal glowered down at me coolly. The pendant dangled heavily a few inches from my face. I wanted to grab it and try to strangle him with the godsdamned thing.

"Oh, and the hot-shot god is back," I laughed derisively. "Get fucked. Again. But if you damage a thing in this apartment, I will fuck you. Metaphorically. But there _will_be a reckoning,"

Andy's nostrils flared, but with a snap of the fingers he stood between the doorway and the foot of the bed, normal-sized once again.

"This isn't over," he snapped, ever the drama king. "Not in the slightest,"

And with that, he turned around and stalked out of my apartment. I sat there on the bed, staring at the now-empty doorway. For a moment, I pondered calling down to the apartment building's concierge desk and telling them to let security deal with the naked jackal that was about to walk out of the elevator, but ultimately decided against that. Entertaining as it would be to watch a god get accosted by our chunky security guy, I didn't want to deal with any blowback that might result.

Suddenly feeling cold, I slipped under the covers. Why didn't I turn up the thermostat? I should be used to it by now, not having my arctic fox's soft, rich fur to nuzzle and press up against. Maybe I should have let Andy stay. At least his body would have been warm lying next to me.