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… Week Thirty-One…

...Monday: Elan...

"Mister Ardor, are you still with us?"

Elan startled, mortified. That was supposed to be a blink. The lecture hall echoed as stragglers shuffled out the back doors. For all intents and purposes, he and his professor were the only people in a room meant for two hundred. He busied himself with his backpack, afraid of the shiny Luxray's golden visage. "I, uh, shi— shoot, I'm really sorry, Professor de Rosa."

"I teach statistics, do you think you're the first student to conk out in my class?" the Luxray's smile was kindly, but it left Elan feeling stung.

"Oh, yeah," Elan said awkwardly, tying to not look at his professor's sharp, red suit without looking like he wasn't looking at her. She even dresses like Mom.

"I didn't tell you that to make you feel bad," said Professor de Rosa. "I should be giving you a medal for showing up at all."

"Yeah," Elan fumbled for what else to say. "I'm, uh, impressed you remember my name, even. Y'know, with all the students you teach."

"Some students stand out more than others," shrugged the Luxray. "Especially the ones who always sit in the front row."

"Yeah," repeated Elan. He glanced nervously at his belly. He'd been in need of the extra leg room for over a month now, but now he was so big the armrests pressed uncomfortably against his thighs.

Professor de Rosa made a show of gathering the last of her class materials into her satchel. "Do you have another class to get to, Elan?"

"Not now. Just, uh, gonna meet my girlfriend for lunch," said Elan.

"Good. Get some rest after that. You slept for an hour and you still look exhausted," said Professor de Rosa.

Elan almost said "yes ma'am" or, even worse, "yes mom," but caught himself at the last second. He fidgeted, trying to find some reason to not look back at his teacher. "You're not mad, then? That I slept through class?"

"Try not to make a habit of it, okay?" smiled Professor de Rosa. She glanced around the lecture hall to ensure the stragglers had finally left before remarking, "you, uh, haven't told which weeks you'll need make-up material. You know, for your medical leave?"

"Oh, I do— That won't be a problem," flushed Elan. "My due date is after finals."

"You sure?" Professor de Rosa eyed him skeptically. Elan half-expected her to hold a protractor up to his belly.

"Triplets," said Elan. He braced himself, anticipating the invasive social ritual that strangers constantly subjected him to the moment his bump started to show. But the dread didn't come, just another wave of exhaustion.

"I see," said Professor de Rosa sympathetically. "I don't mean to pry, but are you keeping up with your exercises? Vulpix kits can be difficult."

Elan gaped, then struggled to compose himself when he remembered who he was staring at. "Why do you know that, professor?"

"My husband is a Ninetales," said Professor de Rosa by way of apology. "They make you do a little dance hooked up to an ultrasound. They have to make sure their tails don't get tangled, you know. I had to practice a lot before I had my twins."

"Yeah, uh, my Mo—" Elan choked on the word. He buried himself in his book but but his shoulders shook treacherously. "She told m- SNIFF - I'm sorry, I just—"

"What are you sorry for? Everyone's allowed a rough day now and again," shrugged Professor de Rosa. She looked pointedly away, but put a kindly hand on Elan's shoulder when she passed him on the way out the lecture hall. "I'll send you the day's PowerPoint on Blackboard. Don't hesitate to visit me during office hours if you have any questions."

"Th-thank you, Professor," sniffed Elan. The clack of heels faded and he fought to pull himself together enough to pick up lunch. By the time he had huffed and puffed his way up the lecture hall stairs, other people were already filing in. He made his way towards The Brick, tugging the hood of his sweatshirt over his ears. As if that would grant him any sort of anonymity with the womb weighing on his hips. He ordered a lunch special at random and made his way outside. It was damp and chilly. But the cold kept prying eyes at bay, and it wouldn't bother him or Calill.

"You're late, hon. Are you feeling okay?" said Calill by way of greeting.

"Of course I'm not," said Elan, staring at his greyish chicken salad. He thought wistfully of the microwave in the arts studio, and of Owyn's boxed lunches.

"Sorry, Babygirl. Bad question," sighed Calill. She kissed him on the cheek and Elan curled a tail gratefully around her wrist. "Quiz me instead? I have a test tomorrow."

Elan gratefully accepted the stack of neatly organized flashcards with diagrams of molecule structures on one side. He'd never liked chemistry, but anything was better than letting his mind wander now. He flipped through the cards one by one, stealing bites when he could, but stopped a quarter of the way through the stack. "Five wrong in a row? Cal, are you okay?"

Calill feigned sheepishness. "I must be rusty."

"Calill..."

The 'Doom sighed, defeated. "Don't worry about me, okay? You're going through a lot."

"Then don't make me worry about you, too," said Elan, lip trembling and hating himself for crying again.

Calill wiped a tear from Elan's cheek, then surged forward to embrace him. "This is all my fault, Elan! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Calill," soothed Elan, clinging desperately to her. "Calill, in what universe is this ever your fault?"

"The pictures! You never would've been caught if I hadn't wanted to make the TailTipz," sobbed Calill, muffled in a den of tails.

"We'd have been found out some other way," sighed Elan. "We were lucky we lasted this long."

"What have I done, Elan?" Calill wailed. "What have we done to her?! To your Mom?!"

"Mom..." Elan murmured knowingly.

"How could I have let myself do this to her?! She gave me so much! She gave me a home! She gave me you!" Cal's sobs clawed in her throat, so that her grief left her raspy and wretched.

"Maybe she won't blame you. You know, if Dad's plan works," Elan said feebly. The thought of Tyson taking the fall nearly brought his sandwich back up.

"It was MY pictures! It was MY camera! She's not stupid," Calill said through gritted teeth.

"And this whole thing was my idea," sniffed Elan. "She's going to hate me when this is all over."

"Why did we let it get this far? What were we thinking?" sobbed Calill. "I should've stopped you!"

"I didn't want to stop, Cal." Elan, alarmed, clung even tighter to her. She'd never broken down like this. At least, never in front of him.

"We didn't want to stop," said Calill, riddled with aftershocks of sorrow.

"Dad was married... we both knew that. But when I was with him..." Elan trailed off.

"It didn't feel real," said Calill.

"No... it felt more than real," said Elan, groping blindly for the right words. "It felt like we were real."

"You loved him. I loved him," sniffled Calill.

"Yeah. I do love him," murmured Elan. He put took Calill's hand and placed it on his womb, heavy with the kits they both yearned to be hers. "I wouldn't trade the time we had for the world. I just wish I could still have my family after."

"I wish I could take it back," Calill said bitterly. "Your Mom showed me what a family was supposed to be. I thanked her by being a homewrecker."

"Only because I egged you on," said Elan.

"I still chose to do it," Cal said obstinately. "And now I've thrown it all away."

"You still have me, Cal," Elan said with a strength only she could draw from him. "You'll always have me. And you have Owyn too."

"Babygirl..."

"Dad loves you too. Maybe... maybe you'll still get to see him when this is... when it's over." A fresh wave of despair washed over Elan, leaving him sobbing in Calill's arms again. An alarm buzzed in the Houndoom's pocket. "Shit, your class."

"Fuck it," Cal said sullenly. "Let's get you home. You look like you barely slept."

"Cal."

"Don't argue. You and the kits need rest," said Calill, a steel returning to her waterlogged voice.

"I— sure thing, Calill. Just promise me you'll rest, too."

"Anything for you, Babygirl."

...Tuesday: Tyson...

Tyson trudged his way down the road that cut through campus, fidgeting with his threadbare sweatshirt. it was speckled blue from when he'd helped Aideen re-paint Elan's room and still vaguely smelled of the stuff, but it was the only thing in his duffel bag that had a hood. He didn't want to be recognized on the walk from the motel to campus, or worse, recognized repeatedly. He broke into a hustle for the last half mile, barely out of breath by the time he reached Elan's door.

"Welco— oh it's you?" Owyn's barks greeted Tyson as he let himself in. "What's the point of paying for a motel if you're always here?"

"Aideen can see my credit card," Tyson said simply. The weight of last few days hung about his shoulders as he collapsed into Owyn's favorite chair. He couldn't remember the last time he was this miserable. The universe seemed to have decided that he hadn't felt bad enough about going behind his wife's back, and was determined to inflict two years of guilt in as many days. It's not like I don't deserve it.

"_Riiiiight. Don't want her to think you're crashing here," said Owyn. He had crammed himself into the kitchenette, a stack of tupperware on the counter. "So, why _are you here? What if she shows up?"

"I thought of that," frowned Tyson. "She never lets Elan see her angry. She won't want to talk to him until she has proof this is all my fault. Till this is... over."

"And if she shows up anyway? You got a copy of your will on hand?" Owyn asked gravely.

"I'll try to aim the blood splatters so that they don't stain the furniture," Tyson responded. "It's not like I can get in much deeper shit than I already am."

"Man, don't say shit like that," Owyn said from over his shoulder. "It can always get worse."

"Do you want help over there?" sighed Tyson, desperate for a change of topic.

"Look at me, Old Timer. Do you think we'd both fit in here?" chuckled Owyn. "I'm nearly done. I wanted to make sure Kitsy'd have something easy to heat up when they got home. Have you eaten already?"

"I'm not hungry," shrugged Tyson. "Is Elan gonna be home soon?"

"Studio day," said Owyn, his head buried in the fridge.

"Right," acknowledged Tyson. "I was just hoping they'd be home soon. Hey, you got a proper beer in there or did you run out of that stout you like?"

"None in the house," said Owyn. He fished a coke out of the fridge instead and tossed it to Tyson. "Elan doesn't do well with the smell of beer right now."

"Nice of you," said Tyson. He cracked the can and swigged moodily.

"You look like shit, old man," said Owyn. He flopped onto the couch and put his paws brazenly on the coffee table.

"I feel like shit," Tyson grumbled.

"So... if you think showing up might cause trouble, what are you actually doing here?" Owyn asked, eyes narrowed.

Tyson started to raise his hackles, but found he couldn't even manage that. "I made an excuse, took off work. I just... I want to see him, Owyn, while I still can."

"Elan's an adult, it's not like you'd be fighting for custody," Owyn said.

"Yeah, but Aideen's a lawyer," Tyson said bitterly.

"Ahhhhhh, there's the other shoe," Owyn said sympathetically. "You know what'll happen to you when she throws the book at you?"

"I don't think Elan and I broke any laws, not since he was eighteen when things first started. But that would mean he'd have to testify and— fuck, I don't want to think about that," groaned Tyson. "It's my fault for dragging him into this mess in the first place."

"What, did you expect never to get caught?" Owyn shot back.

"I mean... I never really planned for any of this. That first time I thought it was gonna be a one-off thing, our little secret. But then it did happen again, and I kept allowing it. Soon Elan started making plans and I just... I never stopped him," said Tyson. He expected a wave of self-disgust to rise, but it didn't. That just made him hate himself more. "When did you realize you liked men, Owyn?"

"Now that's a bit of a left turn. What's it to you?" asked Owyn, head cocked to the side.

"Just answer the question," grumbled Tyson.

"I popped a fuckin' boner in middle school P.E. Coach Rausch decided to put wrestling on the curriculum," said Owyn nostalgically.

"In front of everyone? That's rough, buddy," Tyson said, gently. Owyn shrugged, motioning for the older 'Arc to go on. "I got put on the varsity team as a freshman. I evolved early and I was pretty big. But there was this scrimmage, and I tackled one of our running backs, a Lycanroc."

"He wasn't a Midday 'Roc, was he?" Owyn winced. "Lucky you're not wearin' an eye patch."

"It wasn't the spikes that stuck in me. He was older than me but he was leaner, y'know? And I just sorta noticed how he... fit, right in my arms. And I liked the thought of that."

"Normal, heterosexual thoughts," Owyn chuckled.

"C'mon, Big Guy, it was the fuckin' 90s. I had no one I could tell. I was scared shitless I'd get hard every time we'd hit the locker room," said Tyson. "I was just glad that I also liked girls. That I could, y'know, just pretend that was all I liked. I'd never have survived the Navy, otherwise."

"You never told your wife?" Owyn asked sympathetically.

Tyson shook his head wearily. "No. Both of us barely knew what 'bisexual' meant when we got married. And part of me was... I didn't know how to explain to her I liked men without implying that I didn't still love her. And it's not like it mattered. If I married her then it wouldn't matter who else I liked. At least until Elan."

"So Kitsy was the first person who knew?"

"Yeah," sighed Tyson. "That... that more than anything is why I kept coming back."

"I get it. Really, I do," said Owyn, surprisingly warm.

"You have experience fucking your son?" Tyson retorted moodily.

"No, but I see how Elan looks at you. He gets this shine to his eyes, y'know?" Owyn said gently.

"He's the same with you, too," murmured Tyson.

"Yeah... yeah he is," sighed Owyn. "He's got a way of tangling you up in his little webs, doesn't he? But I'm glad he did."

A feeble chuckle escaped Tyson. "You sound surprised."

"I mean, this shindig wasn't exactly my plan A," shrugged Owyn. "When I agreed to Elan's plan I expected to be clear of the blast zone long before anything like this happened."

"But Elan changed your mind?" nodded Tyson.

"In a way," Owyn said vaguely.

"Don't be a tease, Big Guy, spit it out," grumbled Tyson, but the corners of his muzzle twitched.

"I'm gonna be real with you, Old Timer," said Owyn, gesturing with his half-empty soda can. "I was not in the best place when you first met me. But Kitsy and Bones fucked good and I had nothing better goin' on, so I agreed to it, even if it did involve being an accomplice to you fucking your son."

"An accomplice?" retorted Tyson.

Owyn shot Tyson a look. "C'mon, you're not dumb. Go kiss Elan on the quad if you think what you're doing isn't a little sheisty."

"So why did you go along with it if you didn't think I was on the level?" Tyson countered.

"I didn't say you weren't on the level, but we wouldn't be having this talk if your situation was in the same time zone as normal. It was clear as day Kitsy was in the drivers seat when it came to you two and as far as I was concerned that made it his business," said Owyn. "But, and don't take this the wrong way, I had a much more, uh, mercenary outlook at the beginning. The way I saw it, the path you and Elan were on would lead to the way of all things."

"And the fuck is the way of all things, Aristotle?" asked Tyson, his eyebrows disappearing into his mane.

"You wound me, Old Timer," said Owyn, clutching his chest. "If you're gonna name me after a dead guy, at least call me Diogenes."

"Don't dodge the question unless you wanna be plucked like a Torchic," bantered Tyson.

"The way of all things is simple," shrugged Owyn. "All roads lead to two places: something bad or something funny. I thought what you and Elan had goin' on was pretty funny, and I trusted to get myself out if I scented something bad on the wind."

Tyson scrutinized his soda can, as if its expiration date set years into the future would explain why the last swig lingered sour on his tongue. "That's pretty damn dark for someone who can't go two minutes without cracking a joke."

"Like I said, it's how I felt at the time," said Owyn, looking appropriately abashed. "A lot has changed in the last six months."

Tyson shot Owyn a look. "What made you change your mind?"

"Kitsy showed me the secret third thing," smiled Owyn.

"That being?"

"Good things do happen sometimes. Like Elan. And Bones, too," sighed Owyn.

"That makes two of us. Elan was the best thing to ever happen to me," said Tyson, a little choked. They sat, the silence between them untwisting until it resembled something comforting.

"I dunno if this means much, especially because I don't have a lot of experience with the topic, but... I love Elan, and I think you've been a good Dad to him," Owyn said gently. "And you've been a good Dad to me, too. Even when I've been a dick."

Tyson struggled not to gape at Owyn. Tentatively, he laid a hand on the larger firedog's elbow."I, uh, thank you, Owyn, really."

"Don't get the wrong idea," Owyn smirked and hefted his gut. "Bones made it clear she has first dibs on putting pups in me."

"Love you too, jackass," guffawed Tyson. His ears swiveled forward at the sound of key scraping a lock. He glanced back at Owyn, who gave him a nod and a wink.

Elan, haggard, weary, and burdened with his sewing kit, was barely through the door before his father's arms enveloped him. They melted into each other, swaying side to side as tails wrapped around Tyson's legs to support the weight of his womb. The Ninetales' murmur drifted muffled and silky-soft between their entwined bodies. "Missed you too, Daddy."

...Thursday: Aideen...

Aideen took the week off. That alone was cause for alarm in her firm. She was craving a snarky email from one of her paralegals, or a whiny Slack message about how shifting the schedule around was going to cause them all sorts of problems. Then maybe things would have felt... normal. Instead, texts flooded in asking her if she was alright, whether they could do anything to help. It made everything worse. Every message felt like seeing that notification on Tyson's phone all over again. You don't take a sick day for a decade and everyone just shrugs. Then you need a break and suddenly everyone loses their damn mind.

Aideen was a good enough lawyer to know where her expertise laid: Corporate law and divorce law were two very different animals. But she was also good enough to do the groundwork to make her a good divorce lawyer. She'd consulted an expert when drafting the contract, of course, but she couldn't bring herself to actually have Marcia take her case. That would mean explaining the specifics and... the thought of what he did getting out was just too mortifying. There was some gossip too juicy even for attorney-client privilege and... well, Aideen knew her work friends well enough.

Maybe I'll go out of town for consultation. Then some bumfucks from nowhere can gossip about me all they want and no one who matters will know... hell, maybe they'll appreciate the kind of mess _ he's _ put me in. Ice clinked against her teeth when she raised her wine glass. She had proper bottles down stairs, but those vintages were for special occasions. She settled for a bottle of Butter chard from the drug store, not quite cold enough despite the ice. She poured herself another, trying to ignore the stench of defeat that mingled with too-sweet grapes. Her phone buzzed, rumbling atop the hard wood table where she'd left it.

User-EileenCasey:

We doing the Walnut again or have you discovered this town has more than one restaurant?

Aideen's sour mood curdled deep in her stomach. She'd forgotten all about their plans. Her first instinct was to act normal, but she discarded the idea immediately. There'd be no explaining Tyson's absence to her sister and brother-in-law. She fumbled with the touch screen keyboard, only to meticulously correct all of her typos.

User-AideenArdor:

Can't make it. Sorry for forgetting to tell you.

User-EileenCasey:

Who died?

Aideen swore at the near-immediate reply. She did not want to do this right now.

User-AideenArdor:

Everything's fine. Something just came up at Tyson's work.

She hated herself for bringing _ him _ up, but it was the only plausible excuse she could think of when they were supposed to be meeting in an hour.

User-EileenCasey:

Bullshit.

User-AideenArdor:

Not nwo, sis. I'll fill yuo in later, k?

Aideen trembling fingers barely managed to hit reply. She pushed the phone away from her, sending it skittering over the table and onto the floor. It buzzed, but she didn't get up to see what Eileen had said. Her insides curdled, twisting into something black and pungent and trembling with a rage that burned more like shame. She fruitlessly blinked tears from her eyes and forced herself to stand. Aideen diligently toured the whole house, ensuring the lights were off and curtains closed. If she must be weak, she would at least not let herself be seen. She stood in the gloom of the late-evening, the house silent save for the clink of ice against shaking glass.

"TYSON, YOU ASS!"

Aideen flung the wine glass blindly. The shatter was unnaturally quiet, as if the house had cast a soporific spell over its empty rooms. Her fingers twisted into blazing claws, golden flame refracted in the shards on the floor. She hyperventilated as she stalked the halls, whirling about the moment she entered a new room. She stood blazing at the threshold to her bedroom anticipating the scream that was clawing its way past her clenched teeth. She screwed her face up to hide the tears from no one and let the thing loose till her throat ached.

_ Thud _. Aideen's fist collided with the door frame. Her knuckles stung, a single bead of blood pooled beneath her knuckle. She panted, too consumed by her everything to bother wiping it away. The drop swelled, then trickled downward, gathering against metal that glowed warm from the heat of her body. Her ring... She'd forced herself to forget about it these past days. If she took it off everyone would know, but she could no longer ignore it with the blood pooling between the woven bands of rose gold and her cream-colored fur. She plucked the once-precious thing from her finger, drawn to the glint of the fire opal despite herself. She tried to remember the last time she'd actually taken it off. She failed.

A flash of gold, an incoherent bellow. Aideen's shoulder wrenched as she flung her ring blindly into her bedroom. Something shattered, infinitely louder than the wine glass downstairs. She blinked tears from her eyes and focused her fire into her raised palm, forgetting the light switch in arms reach. She shuffled bare paws tentatively over the carpet for fear of stepping on a stray shard. She found the picture frame on the floor, near Tyson's side of the bed. Her tail snatched it up, another sweeping the glass fragments against the wall.

Aideen fumbled with the knobs on the back of the frame. The print was immaculate, not even a wrinkled corner. She knew which picture she'd hit but that made her dread looking at it all the more. She turned it over to see her, Tyson, Elan, and Calill all beaming back at her. Elan and Cal were in their cap and gown. Elan was utterly radiant, Cal basked in her boyfriend's joy, and Tyson... he had one arm around her waist, the other on Elan's shoulder. Aideen retched.

Elan. Oh Elan, what did he do to you? How many times had he fucked him between then and this picture? How many more since then and now? What had he said to her little boy to convince him that... that would be okay? What if he wanted it... what if it was h— Aideen squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to even entertain that thought. Not her Elan. Not him. Not her Elan. Not him.

"TYSON, YOU A-A-ASS," Aideen croaked again, collapsing onto the bed. The picture crumpled as she snatched up fistfuls of blanket. The bed still smelled of _ him _ after washing the sheets twice. The slight musk of grass and sulfur comforted the wounded animal curled deep inside her. She inhaled between tremulous sobs, hating herself for every breath, hating herself for missing the real thing. If he was here, then that meant this past week never happened, that it was never real. Pathetic. "YOU S-STUPID MUTT! WHY DID YOU TAKE MY FAMILY FROM ME?!"

She lay crumpled on the bed, overcome by exhaustion so elemental that she couldn't muster the strength to sob. The darkness was the only witness to her freely flowing tears. Aideen permitted herself the chance to yearn for it, to be consumed by the nothingness until she, too, was only a void. Even emptiness was better than this.

Downstairs, the doorbell rang.

Aideen bolted upright, tails bristled. She counted to ten, praying it was just the delivery man. It's too late for that and there's no truck. The doorbell rang, then rang again. Someone was wearing out their thumb on the damn thing. Aideen sighed and picked herself up off the bad. She trudged down the stairs, not even bothering with tidying herself. It wouldn't make a difference, given who was at her door.

"You look like shit," said Eileen matter-of-factly. The elder Ninetales was shorter and squatter than Aideen, but their family resemblance was unmistakable.

"I feel like shit," admitted Aideen. She accepted the hug without protest, grateful for the first loving touch in nearly a week. "Keep your shoes on. I broke a glass."

That disruption in etiquette shocked Eileen more than anything. "Ada, what in the hell happened?!"

"Inside," said Aideen, shutting the door furtively behind them before anyone else could see her sorry state.

Eileen strode to the kitchen and began futzing around for something. "Not to kick you while you're down, Sis, but Butter?! It's not even cold."

"What are you looking for in there?" deflected Aideen.

"You need an upper, not a downer. You still take your coff—"

"—No!" exclaimed Aideen. She couldn't bear it. Yet another daily ritual tainted by _ him _, by his crimes, by his absence. "I mean, uh, there's teabags by the coffee maker. Just make me an earl grey."

"Will you crucify me for microwaving the water?" Eileen called from the kitchen even as she punched the "+30 seconds" button several times.

"I don't think I have the energy," sighed Aideen, corner of her muzzle twitching despite herself. She accepted the steaming mug with mumbled thanks and sipped the scalding brew. It hadn't steeped properly but she didn't care.

"So are you gonna cut to the chase or do I gotta ask what the hell is going on?" said Eileen, frank but no less sympathetic for it.

"Before I do, not a word to Coleen," said Aideen. She was afraid of letting even one of her sisters know anything. The thought of both mortified her.

"That bad?"

"Yes," sighed Aideen, unable to muster the energy to banter.

"Well, don't drag it out. Lay it on your big sis and we'll see what the damage is," said Eileen.

"Tyson cheated on me," blurted Aideen before she could stop herself. "With... with a younger man."

"Tyson? Gay?!" said Eileen, incredulous. "And just how much younger?"

"I don— young. He looks half my age," faltered Aideen, scrabbling to find a half-truth that wouldn't make things obvious.

"Arceus, Ada, I'm so sorry. How did you find out?" Eileen put a hand on Aideen's shoulder.

"His secret boyfriend sexted him. And I saw it," said Aideen. She couldn't bring herself to admit it happened on her anniversary.

"This news feels, uh, fresh," Eileen said, inadvertently cutting Aideen to the bone.

"Very," said Aideen.

"And that's why his truck isn't in the driveway?" asked Eileen. Aideen nodded. "Good riddance. Now, what can I do for you? And don't you dare say 'nothing.'"

"I— what can anyone do?" sighed Aideen.

"I can have your back," said Eileen firmly.

"You always have my back, Sis," Aideen smiled weakly.

"How's Elan taking this?" asked Eileen nervously. "Does he know you kicked his dad out?"

"I'm sure he knows," Aideen fought to keep the bitterness from creeping into her voice. "He and Tyson, they... they share everything."

Eileen squeezed Aideen gently but pressed bravely on. "Do you think he knew about the affair?"

"He— I think Tyson asked him for pointers on gay things," said Aideen.

"Why's he need to ask his son for pointers? Why not ask his secret boyfriend?" asked Eileen.

"I don't know!" snarled Aideen. "I didn't even know he liked men till last week! He never told me!"

"Would that have made him cheating better?" asked Eileen.

"I don't know," growled Aideen again. "I still have no idea how this ever happened. He's such a bad liar, Eileen, you have no idea."

"Evidently not, given he kept all this from you," countered Eileen.

"I just... why didn't he tell me?" Aideen said, growing more despondent.

"Maybe he was ashamed?" Eileen said with an air of grasping at straws. "People do a lot of stupid shit over shame."

"Did he think I'd be ashamed of him?" Despite all her grief, all her fury, the thought of being ashamed of Tyson felt... it felt wrong. "I mean... what's even the big deal? If he told me he liked men... doesn't everyone have those types of fantasies? At least a little?"

"Uh, is there something you wanna tell me, Sis?" Eileen's eyebrows disappeared beneath her bangs.

Aideen flushed scarlet and shook her head, grateful that Eileen had the grace to suppress her laugh. "I just, erhm, I don't understand why he did it. He never acted unsatisfied with me. And after Elan went off to school he was like a whole new man. It was like he was trying to sweep me off my feet all over again."

"Guilty conscience?" proffered Eileen.

"No, you can read him like a book when he's done something wrong," Aideen shook her head. "It's his tail, you know?"

"And plowing a guy young enough to be his son behind your back isn't 'wrong?'" retorted Eileen.

"I— I just don't know anymore. I thought I knew him. All our lives he told me he could never lie to me. And yet..." Aideen choked back tears. "I thought I knew him. I thought I knew him."

"...So what now?" Eileen asked gently.

"I— It's over," sighed Aideen. "It has to be. I guess all that's left is to serve him the papers."

"That's... a hard thing to do after twenty years," murmured Eileen. She hugged Aideen, and the younger vixen permitted herself a single sob. "But if that's what you want, me and Vinny'll be behind you the whole time."

"It's not what I want! I want—" Aideen stopped herself. She'd almost said "I want my family back," but that was too desperate. Too weak... "I want answers, damn it. I want the damn truth!"

...Friday: Tyson...

Tyson lay side-by-side with Elan on his under-stuffed mattress, fingers entwined, unclothed save for their underwear. The conversation had lapsed into the silence of the damned, pressing against their mouths like black mold. Tyson hated it, then hated himself for hating it twice over. He couldn't help it. The thought that the last days he'd ever get to spend with Elan would be so tainted... He turned to Elan and cupped his cheek, but he looked away when he saw his own sorrow staring back in him. The same damn shade of blue.

_"_We can't keep putting this off, Elan," murmured Tyson.

"I hate this," said Elan, crossing his arms over his chest.

Tyson gritted his teeth but pressed forward. "You may need to alter your surrogacy contract. I know you were thinking of an open adoption, but if you seal the records, Aideen can't force Felicity to submit them for DNA testing."

"I don't want to lie about loving you. I don't want to lie to Mom," Elan pouted petulantly.

"We've already lied to her," Tyson said, his heart plummeting in his chest. "The best thing we can do now is make sure she'll talk to you when this is all over."

"By lying even more? By saying you forced me to have sex with you! That's assault, Dad! You want me to say you raped me?!" Elan choked on the word. "Mom's a lawyer. You could lose your job! You could go to jail!"

"I deserve it," Tyson said bitterly.

"No you don't!" sobbed Elan. He turned his back to Tyson on the bed, but he couldn't hide his shaking shoulders. "You've made me happy! I won't pretend that's wrong!"

"That's not how anyone else will see it," Tyson said, warm and gentle. He wrapped his arms around his son and became his big spoon. One hand ran up and down the slope of his thigh, softened by the weight he'd gained during his pregnancy. "And we still lied to your mother. That was wrong from the very start."

"I keep going over it all in my head," Elan said weakly. "What could I say to Mom to convince her that I'm in love with you? What could I say to her to make things okay again?"

"Don't torture yourself like that," soothed Tyson.

"Don't tell me you're not thinking it, too," sniffed Elan.

Got me there, Kiddo. Tyson sighed and flopped onto his back again. There was an off-white stain on the ceiling. He wondered who was responsible. It couldn't be Owyn. It wasn't enough of a stain to be Owyn. "You know I would do anything to still be with your mother. Just like I'd do anything for you."

"I don't know how I'm supposed to keep going after this. I don't want to pretend I'm not in love with you for the rest of my life," said Elan, a dangerous quaver in his voice.

"Owyn and Calill will—"

"They aren't you, Dad," blazed Elan. He flung himself at Tyson, sinking into his mane and leaving the fur damp with tears. "You're not them! You're... y-you're my Dad. I don't fall in love with people who can be replaced!"

"We ca— We'll never replace the people we love, Elan. But sometimes we have to learn to live without them," Tyson faltered. He choked down the sob pressing hard against his Adam's apple, saved only by his resolve to stay strong for Elan.

"I'm so afraid," whispered Elan. "I keep waiting for the phone call that will take you away forever."

Tyson's words caught in his throat. He swallowed, cupped Elan's damp cheek, and brought their muzzles together. The kiss was more bitter than sweet, but neither could bear to pull away. He clung to the 'Nines as if he were a life ring, but their tightening embrace only dragged them both under the surface. He no longer had the strength to keep his eyes from watering. "I'll always love you, Elan. No matter what happens next, I will always, always love you. And I will still be in love with you, even if we can't be together."

"I love you too," sniffed Elan.

"Promise me something, Elan," said Tyson, eyes squeezed shut in a futile effort to stop the flow of silent tears.

"Anything, Dad," said Elan.

"Promise me..." Tyson hesitated. He'd been waiting all week to say this, but had been putting it off for fear of upsetting Elan. The passing moment weighed heavy on him, and for a wild moment he feared the bed would fall through the floor, crumbling into an abyss of stolen time. "Promise me you'll forgive your mother when this is all done. No matter what happens, this wasn't her fault."

"I won't choose between you two," Elan said obstinately.

"We're not in a position to make demands, Elan," growled Tyson. But his feeble "stern dad" facade crumbled immediately. "Please, Elan," he supplicated, "Please, please, don't hate her no matter what happens to me. Please. Promise me."

"I— I promise," acquiesced Elan.

"I will always, always love you," repeated Tyson, clinging tighter than ever. Elan sighed wordlessly and nuzzled deeper into the embrace. They lost themselves in the simple joy of the other's touch. Both yearned, as they had yearned countless times before while sharing a bed, for time to slow around them, to stretch these stolen moments into minutes, hours, days...

Silken fur rustled against the sheets and a weight pressed Tyson's waist into the mattress. Elan's lacy panties rubbed into the 'Arc's threadbare boxers, tickling the fur on his sheath. "Make love to me, Daddy," whispered Elan.

"Kiddo..." Tyson reached out and stroked Elan's cheek. Even tear stained and bloated from his pregnancy, the Nines was still achingly beautiful. "Your boyfriend and girlfriend are downstairs if you need that."

"No one's been in the mood all week," said Elan. "And they can't give me what I need right now."

"This isn't going to make things go away, Elan," sighed Tyson.

"I— I know it won't," faltered Elan. "But I need you tonight. I need to feel beautiful, even if it's for a few minutes."

"You're always beautiful," soothed Tyson. A tail coiled around the ruff of white fur on Tyson's wrist.

"That first night, when I wore M— when I wore that dress... I never felt more powerful in my life," Elan shifted uncomfortably when he mentioned Aideen. "You wanted me that night. I was forbidden fruit but you , but you wanted me just like I wanted you. And if I could make my own father want me, well... I felt like I had the whole world in my hands when you kissed me."

"Elan," Tyson whispered reverently. "Elan, it was me who had the world in his hands. You've been my world since the moment you were born."

Elan's womb weighed on Tyson's abs when he leaned to kiss him. "Please, Dad. Let me be your world one last time."

"Anything for you," exhaled Tyson. He pulled Elan back into another kiss, forcing himself to sink into the sweetness of his son's muzzle. Elan moaned gently, clutching at Tyson's face to prolong the kiss. He gracelessly ground his hips, knees trembling beneath the weight of his litter. A steady hand caressed Elan's hip and guided the Nines, so that they revolved around each other in the mess of unmade sheets. "Easy now, Kiddo. Let me do the hard work."

"Dad," Elan cooed tremulously, voice threatening to crack. He crossed his wrists behind Tyson's shoulders and brought his ankles to meet just above the base of Tyson's tail.

"Elan," sighed Tyson. He rolled his hips, their sheaths pressed plump between the fabric of their underwear. Memories of their first encounter washed nostalgically over Tyson. Elan, resplendent in that fateful shade of green. How beautiful he was even when his blue eyes gave the facade away. How many clandestine rendezvous had it taken for Tyson to realize he no longer needed the dress to want him? He pushed forward to kiss Elan again, pinning his wrists to his sides.

Tyson's pace was tender, almost languid; anything to prolong this final taste of each other that they would share. His tongue plunged into Elan and the Nines mewl passed between them as puff of stolen wind. Even his breath was sweet as nectar. Ginger... ginger and peaches. The thought sent a shudder down Tyson's spine. He recoiled reflexively, his heart asunder only to be torn again when he saw Elan's shocked face beneath him. Tyson wrenched his gaze away, teeth gritted till his whole skull ached and he only saw crimson stars popping beneath his eyelids.

Deep in that kiss, deep in that moment, Tyson saw his future. A lifetime of covert meetings under cover of night, secrets kept on disposable devices, and endless, endless lies. A future where he could only be with his son, not as a parent, not even as a lover, but as a surrogate for what he'd squandered. In this moment, he could not want him without wanting her. He deserves better than that. Better than me. He looked back to Elan, trying to arrange his face into some simulacra of comfort, of stoic, fatherly stability, of anything except this. But he couldn't. Not with the tears streaming silently down his face. He collapsed onto his back, side-by-side with Elan again. "I can't, Elan... I can't... I'm sorry... I can't..."

"Dad," croaked Elan. He nuzzled tentatively against Tyson, who nodded and allowed the Nines to curl up next to him. "Dad, it's okay."

"I'm sorry, Elan, I can't. Not tonight," shuddered Tyson, wishing he could say anything else.

"I understand," whispered Elan. He kissed Tyson's damp cheek, and the 'Arc responded in kind. "I love you, Dad."

"I love you, too, Elan," said Tyson. "I love you always."

"I love you forever."

They clung close together, fighting to hide their sobs from the other. Their whispers called back and forth to each other, echos over the gaping canyon that yawned between their arms.

"I love you always."

"I love you forever."

"I love you always."

"I love you forever."