FSE

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And I know when you're in too deep

You still think of me sometimes

Stockholm Syndrome and misery

There's a penalty for love crimes

(Robyn)

---

Even though the soup had long since gotten cold, I stirred the pot sitting on the trivet in the middle of the kitchen table once more. Checking my watch and then phone for probably the tenth time that minute, I pushed back from the table and marked the time by pacing back and forth between dining area and kitchen.

Roger pulled long hours on a semi-regular basis, but he always called or texted me beforehand so I knew when to expect him. I glanced at my phone again. Nothing.

Grumbling softly, I dialed the number for MACRO headquarters. Hopefully, Roger would be the one who answered. Despite the fact that they were a fairly large organization, they had never gotten around to establishing an individual extension number for any of their employees. Rather, you would call a central number and then hope for the best while you were bounced around from person to person like you were the ball in some sort of bizarre eight-plus-person game of table tennis. Truly, efficiency at its finest.

"MACRO," came the voice on the other end of the line after several rings.

"Morgan?" I asked, hedging my bets. I'd only ever met the pine marten once, and it had been a brief encounter at that.

"Speaking. How can I help you?"

"It's Reynard,"

"Oh, hi!" Morgan perked up noticeably. "Congratulations on the wedding yesterday evening, by the way. Roger wouldn't shut up about it all day long,"

"Thanks. I owe you one for providing us the hook-up with the officiant and all that," I replied. "Hey, speaking of Roger, is he still there? Can I speak with him?"

The line fell silent as Morgan hesitated. "Is Roger not home?"

I frowned slightly. "Well, no. I wouldn't be asking if he were,"

"Right. Of course,"

"Do you mean he isn't in the office, either?"

"Well, no," Morgan's words came slowly and hesitantly. "He... he left work a couple of _hours_ago,"

"What?"

"Yeah. It was a pretty slow workday, so he just packed it in around four or so, a little early," Morgan said. "Well, slow aside from Becca getting fired, I suppose," she added, almost as if it were an afterthought. "Maybe he's grocery shopping?"

"He never shops for groceries. And if he were, it wouldn't take it him this long," I replied. Roger was very much a run-in-and-grab-the-cheapest-and-first-of-anything-you-need-in-the-grocery-store kind of fox. Not one for pondering the finer points of pasta varieties and whatnot. "You said Becca lost her job?"

"Yeah. It took everyone here by surprise, really," Morgan said. Her tone became more conspiratorial.

"Remember when Tab went all, you know, er, 'fee fi fo fum' bit a while back? Well, apparently Becca slipped some sort of crazy juice or something into her coffee that morning. Knocked her off her rocker. When Karl found out, he was furious. Hauled her into his office and just let her have it. Fired her on the spot.

"I'm just surprised she isn't facing anything more serious. You know, legal actions or whatever. Suppose Karl doesn't want to deal with any of that sort of thing--dragging everything out forever. Can't say as I blame him, really. Wouldn't be good to drag even more of MACRO's shit into the public eye. Best to keep it on the down-low,"

"Do you know where she is now? Becca, I mean," I asked.

"Well, no. She left in a huff. Understandable, for sure. I can't help but feel a little bad for her, but you shouldn't be able to get away with that sort of thing; she got what she deserved. If anything, she got off too easy--"

"--Do you know if Roger had anything to do with the whole thing? Becca getting fired and all?" I interrupted breathlessly.

The puzzle pieces were starting to fall into place, and I really didn't like the way the end picture was turning out. I had to hope that I was overreacting.

Morgan hesitated, racking her brain. "Hmm. Well, I _did_see Roger going into Karl's office with some papers a little before the fallout with Becca. Then again, that isn't necessarily all that unusual. He usually has to get approval from Karl for stuff, so that could have been some other project or something,"

"But it could have had something to do with Becca,"

"I guess, maybe," Morgan said. "Why?"

"Well, you know Becca. She can be pretty, well, unstable. And you know what happens as a result of that instability,"

"Shit," Morgan whispered. "You don't think she's done something with Roger?"

"That's what I'm afraid of," I said, hurrying towards the front door of the apartment and pulling on a coat. "Do you mind staying there at MACRO for a little longer? I'm on my way over,"

"All right," Morgan replied grimly. "I really hope this isn't the case,"

"But we have to be safe," I replied, hanging up.

I hustled down to the ground level of my apartment building, taking the stairs two at a time. If Becca had done anything to my Roger, I was going to fuck her up. Somehow.

*****

As I drifted into a groggy semi-consciousness, the first thing I became aware of was the hard, cold floor. I blinked and tried to reach up to rub my eyes, but my arms couldn't move. Moaning softly, I craned my neck down, trying to look at myself.

My body had been wrapped shoulders to ankles in a length of thick cable that was knotted several times close to my feet. I struggled in my bonds, but couldn't manage to do much more than wiggle like some sort of demented caterpillar. The free end of the cable extended a distance from between my feet.

"Becca," I mumbled to myself.

Looking around as much as the restrictive bonds would allow, I tried to get my bearings. As my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, I saw that I was in a stark, barren space. It had the look of one of the large warehouses that lined the waterfront of the industrial dockyards just south of downtown.

Everything had a sharp, severe appearance--concrete floors, corrugated aluminum and steel walls, and a roof made of similar materials, supported by thick wooden beams placed at regular intervals. Large wooden crates stood stacked floor to ceiling on shelves that lined one wall, but the space was otherwise open. All the same, the grey light, Spartan aesthetic, and my own burgeoning fear pressed in on me.

"Becca," I said, louder this time, my voice bouncing off the metal walls. I cursed myself softly as I noted a hint of desperation in my tone, hoping that Becca hadn't noticed the same.

A dark, resounding chuckle responded to my call. Wriggling furiously, I managed to rotate myself so I could better see what was behind me, previously out of my field of vision.

My blood ran cold as I saw the ferretess. Crouching low on all fours, Becca's massive bulk filled probably half of the space in the warehouse. Her shoulder blades scraped against the roof and her elbows pressed outward, denting the walls slightly. If she stood up, she would compromise the structural integrity of the whole building and send it crashing down on me. But perhaps that would be the better outcome for me in the end: Becca was regarding me with the cold, calculating gaze of a predator.

"Becca," I repeated, an undertone of pleading creeping into my voice.

"Is that the only word you know anymore?" Becca scoffed, leaning in towards me.

"I don't know why you're doing this," I replied. "Please. Just let me go home. We can walk away like none of this happened. Turn over a new leaf,"

"Oh, that's what you would want," the ferretess snarled, eyes flashing.

Her piercing gaze still fixed on me, Becca reached out. For a moment, I thought she was going to snatch me up, but she instead reached out over me. With a casual twist of the wrist, she brought an entire shelf of heavy wooden boxes crashing to the ground only a few feet away from where I lay. Several boxes split open, spilling their contents and sending splintered fragments of wood in every direction. I inhaled sharply as a jagged piece gashed me across the cheek, not allowing the reflexive pained gasp I wanted to utter to pass my lips. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction. Becca giggled nevertheless, her tone musical and yet harsh.

"See, I've noticed something about you. You just want to be able to go through life, doing whatever you want, and never having to answer for it," she pressed onward. "You think you should be able to get away with whatever you please. Who cares about the collateral damage if Roger gets what he wants?"

I was tempted to tell Becca that her accusations sounded an awful lot like the pot calling the kettle black, but knew that wouldn't go over all that well. Instead, I tried a more diplomatic approach.

"Why would I want you to get sacked, Becca?" I asked, struggling into a seated position so that I was propped up against an unbroken box that had landed next to me. "Think about it. What could I possibly stand to gain from that?"

"That doesn't change the fact that you threw me under the bus," Becca's lip curled.

"Yes, I did tell Karl about your role in Tabitha's... outburst. But I did that because I wanted justice for Tabitha, not because I had some sort of vindictive desire to put you out of work. I didn't think you would lose your job,"

Becca's sarcasm was palpable. "What a fucking martyr you are. Poor, sweet Roger. Always looking out for his coworkers, always pursuing 'justice'.

"Oh, wait. I got fucking humiliated by that sniveling little muskrat and then fired without so much as a second chance. I'm having a hard time seeing the justice in that,"

"Becca, what you did was wrong. I'm sorry that you feel this isn't fair, but you have to at least recognize that you were in the wrong. Nothing you do to me will change that. Untie me, Becca. Please, let's just walk away from this," I pleaded.

"Not a chance," the ferretess laughed.

"Don't do anything you're going to regret. Please. Let me help you. We can find you a new job. Just don't hurt me. I haven't done anything to you,"

"The_last_ thing I need is your help," Becca scoffed. "And here's the thing. Far as I can see, you've done everything to me. Who blocked me from getting Tabitha's position--the one I've wanted for so long? Who got me fired?"

Becca reached down, plucking up the free end of the cable between thumb and forefinger. I found myself jerked off the ground by my feet and swung high into the air. The giantess looped the length of cable over a crossbeam of the roof and tied it securely, leaving me dangling upside-down in space. She smirked at her handiwork as I struggled furiously.

"Don't try to work yourself free," she warned softly. "I'd hate for you to land on your pretty little head. Not from such a height. For a shrimp like you, at least,"

"Let's talk about this," I gasped, still struggling fruitlessly. "Untie me and let's talk about this like two adults,"

Becca smirked again before tapping my side with a finger, sending me swinging back and forth like a pendulum. A wave of nausea washed over me.

"Here's how it's going to go. I will let you think about the mistakes you've made. I'm going to explain exactly why you're a terrible person. And then I'm going to eat you," Becca finished simply.

My heart stopped.

"Listen to yourself, Becca," I breathed. "This isn't you. You're angry. I understand that. But if you do that... you're not going to do that. I know you. You aren't like that,"

Becca wasn't paying attention to me any longer.

"You probably won't be all that filling," she mused to herself, stroking her chin. "But no matter. You'll be more of an appetizer. Edmond is taking me out on a late-night dinner date later on, so it'll all turn out fine for me,"

"Think about him," I latched onto that thought, grasping for some sane aspect of her. "Edmond wouldn't want this. Edmond wouldn't want you to kill me, or anyone else. He would want you to be gentle,"

Becca's laughter buffeted me back and forth. "Edmond wouldn't know a thing. Besides, he wouldn't say anything. He's cute and loyal, like a puppy. He knows better than to question me,"

"Please," I squeaked.

The blood was pounding in my ears and the edges of my vision were starting to fade to black.

Becca gripped the beam from which I was dangling angrily. I could hear the wood starting to crack and splinter under her hand. Good. Maybe I could enrage her enough to just bring the building down on top of me. That had to be a better end.

"Now. Where do we begin?" Becca cackled, glowering at me.

*****

"Let's start at the very beginning," I said. "Seems like a very good place to start,"

A general grumble rose from the handful (in every sense of the term) of construction workers assembled before me. Lunch hour was later than usual that day, which irritated them to no end, a sentiment that didn't seem to improve when they found me sitting in front of the break trailer. The husky looked as if he was about to say something, but Kit cleared his throat threateningly.

I nodded at the badger in thanks before continuing. "Look, I'm just as hungry as all of you are. And the last thing I want is to have some sort of mushy heart-to-heart thing. But I gotta say, the other last thing I want is to continue putting up with all of your shit all the time.

"I get that I'm the new gal on the block and all that shit. But you guys really need to tone it the fuck down. It's not something anyone wants to deal with. I wasn't about to be some sort of tattletale and get the foreman in on this whole, ah, intervention. We can handle this on our own, right guys?

"So, I'll offer you a deal. You all pipe it down with the catcalls and I'll keep out of your fur. Sound good? We don't all need to be best friends for life and braid each other's hair or any of that shit. But we can at least tolerate each other's presence for eight hours a day, right? Not too much to ask? Okay? Okay,"

Another general grumble from the audience. I sighed. Perhaps that was the best I could hope for. Getting to my feet, I dusted off my jeans and picked my way over to my usual lunch spot, a vacant corner of the lot. One of the few advantages of my gigantic size, I supposed, was that it saved me from the daily awkwardness of having to eat lunch in the same room as a bunch of random guys I barely knew.

As I pulled out my lunch pail, I noticed that Kit had followed after me.

"It's alright. Go eat lunch with your friends," I said, folding up the canvas sheet I used as a cover for my pail and, when need be, a napkin.

"I just wanted to apologize on behalf of the guys," the badger offered. "I know you're frustrated by how they've been acting, and I think you addressing it directly was a step in the right--"

"I don't need your apology. I need theirs," I replied simply. "You aren't the problem. In fact, you've been the only person around here who hasn't acted like a total tool towards me. I don't know if it's me, or what,"

"It's them. Trust me. This is how those guys always act around new hires. That's how they were around me for a while. Well, maybe not the catcalls, so much. But you know..."

"Doesn't make it right," I sniffed disdainfully.

Kit nodded and looked for a moment as if he were fixing on saying something, but shook his head and started to make his way back towards the break trailer. The rest of my lunch passed in a bitter silence.

Bitter silence appeared to be the theme of the day, as nobody would deign to speak with me as work resumed that afternoon. It was as if I didn't even exist. And when I did need to exist, I was referred to as 'that bitch' or 'Giganta'. Not exactly much of an improvement.

We were completing the frame of the uppermost floor of the apartment building, which now reached to just about the level of my chest. It was certainly nice not to have to constantly stoop low to work. While I helped get large beams in place, others nailed things together and got the frame ready for roofing and siding.

Shane, a lanky cheetah, was operating the crane that day. He wasn't the best at it (Kit told me he'd completed training just a day or so before I joined the project), taking a lot of time to get the large wood and metal beams where they needed to go, and on several occasions nearly damaged other beams and parts of the infrastructure with the beam he was moving. I would have offered to help, but it wasn't my problem, and I really didn't feel like speaking with him.

In retrospect, maybe I should have offered. As I got a roof beam into place to be secured, I heard a loud shout from the other corner of the building. Rounding the corner, I saw Shane was struggling to control a particularly large I-beam. It was swinging erratically from the crane, dangerously close to the husky, who had his back to the beam as he finished screwing a board into place.

"Look out, Dalton!" I cried out to the husky.

He started to turn to see what it was I was yelling about, but was too late. The I-beam caught him square in the gut, launching him into the air off the edge of the building.

Instinct and reflex took over. I lunged forward, stretching out my arm. Dalton landed on his back squarely in the center of my palm with a soft gasp. Cupping my hand around him, I set him gently on the ground.

"Sorry about that," I said stupidly, remembering most people didn't like to be touched without consent.

Dalton stared glassy-eyed at nothing in particular, clutching a hand to his chest. "D-don't worry about it," he mumbled. "Thank you,"

Kit came rushing from somewhere else on the site, tossing aside his hard-hat as he kneeled beside Dalton.

"We need to get him to a hospital," Kit urged, looking around. "He might have broken something when he got hit by that I-beam,"

As Kit stepped away to call for an ambulance, Shane ran up to Dalton.

"I'm so sorry," he panted. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do that. I really didn't. Shit. I'm so sorry,"

"Hey, I'm alright. It'll be fine. At least Tabitha was there--quick thinking and all that," the husky grunted in reply.

"Yeah," Shane said pensively. Our eyes met briefly and he nodded. "Good thing she was there,"

I nodded once. That was probably about as close to a compliment as I'd get from Shane.

*****

It took just about all of Morgan's strength to keep me from beating down Edmond's door.

"I know you're in there!" I spat. "Come out, now!"

The lock clicked and the red panda's confused, worried face peered around the edge of the door. "What's going on?"

Morgan held up a hand to silence me. "Hi, Ed. Sorry to bother you at this hour, but do you know where Becca is?"

Edmond opened the door fully, allowing us entry. His living area was small and cramped, dominated by a couple of overstuffed armchairs and a somewhat flimsy-looking coffee table.

"I assume she's at her place," Edmond shrugged.

"Well, she isn't there," I insisted, lip curling. "We've already checked there. Along with every conceivable place she could be,"

Morgan looked back and forth between Edmond and I, nodding slowly.

"Becca is missing, along with Roger. We just want to make sure everyone is okay," she said.

"Well, I wish I could help you, but I haven't seen her in a couple of days now," Edmond replied.

"Have you had any contact with her today?" Morgan pressed gently.

Edmond's face fell. "She called me a couple of hours ago. Said she had been let go from her position MACRO. We were going to go out tonight. A special late-night dinner. She likes that sort of thing. I wanted to cheer her up, help take her mind off all of that. I mean, you know what happens when she gets emotional about stuff..." he trailed off.

"That's exactly what we think happened," I growled, ignoring the warning look Morgan shot me. "What exactly has your gigantic bitch of a girlfriend done with my husband?"

"I--I don't know! I swear!" Edmond quailed pathetically, practically cowering in the corner.

"Do you know where Becca might have taken Roger, if she's taken him?" Morgan asked softly, shooting me another dirty look. "Is there somewhere she goes when she's, you know, like that?"

Edmond slumped into a chair. "There's a warehouse down by the docks that we like to go when we want to... you know, be together. It's big enough for her even when she's, you know... it's big enough for her all of the time, I'll put it that way,"

"We need to go there," Morgan asserted, becoming more businesslike. "And I need for you to come with us. You might be able to help with the situation,"

"What do you think she's done?" Edmond's eyes were wide with panic. "It isn't like her to do violent things or anything like that, if that's what you're talking about,"

Oh, yes it is, I wanted to snap, but remained quiet. I didn't need to risk incurring any more of Morgan's ire that evening.

The pine marten shook her head. "We don't know. We hope nothing. But we need to be safe. Just in case. Everyone can get out of this situation. We just need to be careful,"

Edmond looked aghast but nodded his understanding. Morgan breezed out the doorway hurriedly, Edmond and I following close behind.

*****

"That's the one," Edmond pointed, opening the car door and stepping out onto the pavement.

Morgan switched the car off and we got out. I looked around the deserted dockyards, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jacket in an effort to ward off the chill marine air. The area was dark, save for the meager illumination offered by a few lamps bolted to the walls of the warehouses, which were arrayed in long rows facing the docks. It was starting to rain; just a light sprinkle at the time, but heavier showers were bound to follow sooner or later that evening.

Edmond looked as if he were about to dash through the large sliding door of the warehouse he had indicated, but Morgan held up a hand for him to remain still. She motioned for us to come closer.

"We need to put together a plan and stick with it," the pine marten said in a hushed, intense voice. "Edmond, I want you to go through that door first. She knows that you know she comes here. Your arrival won't seem suspicious,"

"What do you mean, suspicious?" Edmond asked. "You aren't going to hurt her, are you?"

Morgan shook her head. "We need to make sure she doesn't do anything she'll regret later. Just talk to her. About anything. I'll be outside listening. Once we've got a gauge of the situation, Reynard and I will nip in and help Roger,"

"If he's in there," Edmond insisted.

I sniffed angrily, scowling at the wilfully stupid red panda. He really didn't want to believe his girlfriend could do anything wrong.

"If there seems to be any danger or threat for you--if--I'll be right outside. But otherwise, just keep her talking. Keep her distracted, alright? Talk with her, let her hold you, anything. Just don't let her work herself up any more than she already is, okay? We're hoping to diffuse the situation, not exacerbate it,"

Edmond nodded fervently. "Got it,"

Morgan nodded and Edmond approached the large door at the front of the warehouse, slid it open a crack, and slipped through. The pine marten and I followed quickly after him, stopping just outside the entrance.

"We need to figure out what the situation is in there--layout, everything," Morgan said. She glanced around the structure. "It looks like there's a small window or opening of some sort up there, near the corner,"

"I'll check it out," I nodded, followed her pointing finger. "Looks like there's a ladder or something going up to it. Should be a piece of cake,"

"Just take a look and come right back. That's it, nothing more, all right?"

I nodded.

"Good. I'll stay here and see what I can pick up through the door. Hopefully, I can glean something about our ferretess friend's state of mind,"

Friend, I snorted contemptuously to myself as I hurried over towards the side of the warehouse. Wedge-shaped metal spikes had been hammered into the wall to function as a primitive ladder up to the window, which must have had some sort of loading purpose. I took the rungs two at a time until I was peering through the square window at the top.

Becca's crouching form filled much of the space. Her back was turned to the window and she appeared to be deep in conversation with Edmond.

I scanned the rest of the space, trying to take in every detail. Most of the warehouse was vacant, save for a few shelves with various boxes and other storage containers lined up along one wall. One of the shelves had been knocked onto its side, most likely by Becca. Aside from the boxes, several large burlap sacks containing what appeared to be flour or some sort of grain were shoved into one corner.

I inhaled sharply as I saw Roger, bound by a length of some sort of thick cable and suspended upside-down from a crossbeam supporting the roof. He wasn't moving. He couldn't be dead, could he? No.

"What did you see?" Morgan asked as I returned.

I quickly described everything I had seen.

"Alright. Well, by the sound of it, I think Becca's calmed down a little. We're going in there. Stay close to the wall, and keep absolutely silent,"

Sliding the door open enough to squeeze through, Morgan and I slipped into the warehouse. She pulled me by the collar of my shirt a short distance to my left, leaving us pressed up against the wall.

"I'm going to climb up and cut Roger free. I need you to go around and drag those burlap sacks into position underneath him. Stay close to the wall and do not get noticed," Morgan whispered in my ear.

"Be careful," I hissed in reply, though I doubted she needed to be reminded.

Morgan practically melted into the darkness. Roger wouldn't shut up about her credentials when she'd been hired, but after that, I wouldn't have been surprised if they included ninja training or something like that.

Snapping out of my reverie, I began to make my own way along the wall, trying to remain as quiet as possible. Things were smooth sailing until I rounded the corner made my way about halfway down the length of the wall.

Becca's thick, snakelike tail blocked my path, draped across the floor with the tip resting against the wall. I cursed softly to myself. Either I had to make it over that tail or I had to go the long way around and risk attracting the attention of the giantess attached to said tail.

I glanced nervously over at Becca. Edmond seemed to be doing a good job of keeping her occupied. She was speaking quietly with him, clutching him in the palm of her hand.

Well, shit, I groaned inwardly. I just hope my long-jump skills aren't too rusty.

Walking a few paces backward, I took a running leap, clearing the furry appendage by a hair (See what I did there? I can make with the puns.). I hit the ground in a roll, springing back to my feet. Looking around, I checked to see if Morgan had by any chance seen my athletic feat.

Unfortunately, she was too busy scaling a beam supporting the rafters to notice. I shook my head in disbelief. Look at me, I'm Morgan and I'm a godsdamned Olympic gymnast or something.

The burlap sacks were heavier than they looked, and I had to be incredibly careful not to alert Becca to my presence, but after a few tense moments, I had everything in place.

I glanced up at the support beam Roger was suspended from. Morgan had shimmied into position, clenching a pocketknife in her teeth like a pirate. Waving up at her to let her know everything was ready, I backed away.

As Morgan began to work at the cable with her knife, I heard a ragged sob from the other side of the room. Whipping around, I saw Becca clutching her knees to her chest, eyes red with tears. Edmond was sitting on her kneecap, stroking her brow.

"It's going to be okay," the red panda cooed. "It's all going to be all right,"

"Incoming!" Morgan hissed for my attention.

The pine marten finished sawing through Roger's cable, sending him plummeting towards the earth. He landed in the pile of flour with a muffled grunt. I hurried over to him, working to free him from the coils of cable binding his body. Morgan dropped onto the stack next to us and finished the job with a few matter-of-fact slashes of the knife.

I helped Roger stagger to his feet, massaging the blood back into his stiff arms and legs as he regained his bearings.

Morgan disappeared and returned several moments with a thick woolen blanket from the back of my car. I draped it over his shoulders because that seemed like the thing you do with people after they've lived through some sort of traumatic event--hurricane, flood, tsunami, hostage situation, whatever.

Massaging his temples dully, Roger slumped into a seated position amongst the flour sacks. I sat beside him, holding him close.

"It's all over," I murmured in his ear. "You're safe now. I'm glad you're all right,"

I looked up to see Becca, normal-sized again and sobbing hysterically, standing a few feet away. She rushed towards Roger and practically fell on top of him. I went to push her away, but the ferretess wrapped her arms around my groggy and disoriented husband.

"I'm so sorry. Gods, I'm so sorry," Becca gasped. "I don't know what I was thinking. I wasn't thinking. But if I'd done anything that I thought I wanted to..."

The rest of the sentence was lost in an unintelligible mish-mash of crying and blubbering. Morgan gently extricated Roger from Becca's embrace and ushered her away as Edmond draped a blanket over her shoulders. Blankets all around. The red panda sat his girlfriend on a wooden crate before hurrying back over to Roger and I.

"Are you okay, Rodge?" he asked, placing a hand on the fox's knee.

"It's okay," Roger replied somewhat blearily. "I'm fine,"

"No, it isn't okay," I hissed in Roger's ear. "She wanted to kill you. And she might have, if Ed hadn't stopped her," I looked up at the red panda. "You did really well today. Really calmed her down. You should be a therapist or something, I dunno,"

A small smile flickered across Edmond's face and he ran a hand through his hair bashfully.

"I'm going to go talk with Becca, if that's alright," he said. "But I'm really glad you're okay, Roger. Becca really is sorry for what happened. I don't know what got into her, but she's sorry. For what that's worth,"

Nothing, I retorted spitefully in my head as Edmond turned to leave. _It's worth nothing. _

I draped an arm over Roger's shoulder. "Let's get going, Rodge. Let's get you out of here,"

*****

"Yeah, things are pretty good now," Tabitha nodded, smiling a little. "I mean, I don't think they'll ever acknowledge they were total assholes for those first few weeks, but things are definitely better. We get along manageably. I even got Dalton to laugh at one of my stupid jokes,"

I snorted, twirling spaghetti around my fork. "They must really like you if they're laughing at any of your dumb jokes,"

The ferretess smiled, giggling softly as she dug into her own (much more massive) bowl of pasta.

"I guess it just took a life-and-death situation to smooth things out a little," she mused.

"This is a lot of fun, by the way," I smiled, gesturing with my fork. "You went through a lot of trouble,"

Tabitha blushed, looping a lock of hair behind her red-tinged ear. "It's no problem, really," she said softly. "You know, I've been thinking a lot, and I want things to be like they were before,"

I crossed the rooftop of the restaurant at which Tabitha had landed us reservations and touched her knuckle. "I think I want that too," I murmured. "I think we have a lot to talk about,"

"Could we go somewhere a little more private?" the ferretess asked. "I don't want every passing schmo to listen,"

As if on cue, it began to rain.

"I guess that settles that," I laughed.

"Mind if we stop by my place?" Tabitha suggested.

"Only if you give me a ride,"

Tabitha offered me a tissue with which to dry off as she arrived home. Grabbing a towel of her own, she worked the worst of the moisture from her hair.

"Well, we gave it a shot," she laughed, sitting on her bed and shrugging off her sweater. "We can always go to the drive-in movie theatre sometime later,"

I shifted from foot to foot on the bedside table. "Tab? There's something I've been meaning to talk with you about. Something I think you should know,"

Tabitha's smile fell slightly. "What is that?"

I sat down on the edge of the nightstand, kicking my legs against the side.

"See, it's about the... incident," I started. I expected Tabitha to cut me off, but she remained silent, ears drooping. "It... it wasn't all your fault. Not really,"

"Don't be silly," Tabitha's eyes were fixed firmly on the floor, her voice despondent. "It was my fault. What I did was--was monstruous. I still have nightmares sometimes, about what I did to her, to you," she sniffled, on the edge of tears. "I really hate myself for that,"

"Becca drugged you," I blurted.

Tabitha fell silent.

"She did. Remember that coffee she gave you? The 'Stevia' she put in it? That was no sweetener--it was a drug. It made you more... volatile, more violent,"

The ferretess remained quiet, staring intently at the floor. "That can't be true,"

"But it is. Warren and I found receipts and emails and stuff--indisputable evidence. She got kicked out of MACRO, I hear,"

"It still doesn't excuse what I did," she whispered.

"Please, don't torture yourself. You've put yourself through enough," I pleaded, filled with anguish and compassion for Tabitha. "You've paid your dues. I know you won't do something like that again. I hope you understand the same. I just wanted you to know the whole truth,"

I squeaked softly as I found myself being scooped up in Tabitha's hand, her soft lips caressing my body.

"Oh, I've missed you, Ciaran," she whispered softly. "I've missed you so much,"

Make-up sex was one of the best things I'd ever experienced. It wasn't until I was with her, touching her, feeling her body, that I realized just how much I had missed her.

"We should break up more often, just so we can have that afterwards," Tabitha giggled, stroking me with her fingertips as we lay together on the bed.

"Or we could just do that all the time, with no breakups or any other red tape," I replied, rubbing myself through her fur.

"Deal," the giantess laughed.

I walked up the length of her body, relishing the sensation of her soft warmth under my feet.

"I'd forgotten how much I like your breasts," I laughed, leaning up against one of them.

"Not exactly the stuff of legend, if my coworkers are to be believed," Tabitha's laughter jostled me. "I distinctly remember the term 'flat as a board' being tossed about the other day,"

"They're just jealous you've got bigger ones than any of their girlfriends or wives or whatever,"

More jostling laughter. "Are we talking gross boobage or per capita?"

I tumbled toward Tabitha's face, propping myself against her lower lip, unable to hold back my smile. Maybe things stood a chance of resuming some semblance of normalcy. Whatever 'normal' meant for us.

*****

If I drove past one more godsdamn pasture, I was going to fucking end someone. I had driven mile after mile past farm after farm, and it was starting to get dark. The car whizzed past a signpost. 30 miles to go yet. Damn it.

The only place with any vacancy in Winthrop was a run-down little motel that looked as if it hadn't updated any of its décor or amenities for ages. I happily took the last room available, wanting nothing more than to fall into bed and maybe enjoy some of the "3-D Television in Every Room" the sign over the door of reception so proudly advertised. Heh. How quaint.

While my room (B204, single queen, ice machine around the corner by vending) boasted a wonderfully hot shower, it also appeared to be intended for guests who were about a foot tall. Seriously, why would anyone install a showerhead not even halfway up the wall? The only thing I could find in the way of a towel was a single threadbare washcloth, which I had already used while showering.

Cursing softly to myself, I shook the water droplets off my body as best I could manage before checking my suitcase to see if I had anything better to work with. My mobile rang. Well, shit.

Pulling a wrinkled shirt from the bottom of my suitcase, I picked up the phone.

"Smith," I said, vigorously toweling off my head with the shirt.

"Hey, Warren," came Guillam's voice.

"Any progress in your search?" I asked as I pulled on a pair of sweats.

"Nada," I could hear the frustration in my partner's voice. "I thought we were onto something. But I haven't managed to find squat shit,"

"I'm going to look at the Winthrop site tomorrow," I replied. "I'll find something,. Well. Hopefully,"

"And if you don't?"

"Well, we'll have to figure out a Plan B, then, won't we?"

"And what is that going to be, exactly? That was our only lead. We have _nothing_after this,"

"Well, then I'll just have to find something here. I've got to get some rest, Peter. I'll call you as soon as I find something,"

"All right,"

Ringing off, I flopped still damp into bed. The ancient magic fingers massaging mattress sprang unbidden to life, vibrating violently. Just fucking great. It was going to be a long night.

*****

Contrary to the address, 4352 28th Avenue NE, Winthrop, Pacifica was not, in fact, within the Winthrop city limits. No, I had to drive a good 15 miles along rutted gravel backcountry roads to find the place. Brilliant.

Double-checking the scrap of paper once again, I studied the house that seemed my final hope of finding Todd's whereabouts. It was a nondescript ranch, probably 60 or so years old, painted pale yellow with cream trim. It looked as if it could do with a bit of TLC: new shutters here, a dab or two of fresh paint there. The lawn was unkempt, overgrown, and brown from a lack of water.

As I approached the entryway, I noticed that the door hung ajar, the screen propped open. Pulling my gun from the holster at my hip, I stepped into the darkened house.

The shades were drawn, the living room in disarray. Stacks of newspapers were scattered about the cluttered space, along with pages and legers of notes all scrawled in the same messy hand. I noted with disgust several pizza boxes strewn across the coffee table, topped by an ashtray.

A rustling coming from down the hallway put me on full alert. Cocking my firearm, I turned towards the source of the sound and began to make my slow, careful way down the hall.

As it turned out, I didn't need to worry too much about stealth. The idiot was tapping away on his computer, music blasting, completely unaware of my presence. I walked up behind him, tapped him on the shoulder, and had him in cuffs before he knew what had hit him.

"What the fuck is going on?" the meerkat bellowed as I pushed him into the "living" room and hurled him onto the couch, sending papers and wrappers every which way. "Take these cuffs off me!"

"You tell me where Todd is and we can talk about getting those cuffs off," I snarled, brandishing the key in the meerkat's greasy face.

He kicked out at me, but I easily dodged the attack, decking him across the face. I heard a crunch as my fist made contact. Excellent. I'd broken something.

"Todd? Who the fuck are you talking about?" the meerkat protested thickly, spitting blood.

"You damned well know who Todd is, you son of a bitch," I hissed.

Placing my knee on the meerkat's chest, I waved a page of notes I'd grabbed off the coffee table in his face. "Don't even try to deny it,"

I got no response, so I moved the pressure from his chest to his throat. The meerkat gurgled, clutching at my knee. Smirking, I relieved the pressure just a little bit.

"Ready to chat?" I asked sweetly.

"Stop it! Stop torturing me like that!" he spluttered.

I guffawed. "Oh, you think this is torture? If you want some of that, we'll have to go somewhere else first. I don't have any of my... supplies here with me, unfortunately. But it'll be fun. I haven't tortured anyone in months. A bit rusty, but you know... It's a talent of mine. Tell you what, I'll let you pick what I do to you first: claw extractions, waterboarding, sleep deprivation..."

"Stop! Stop! I'll tell you anything you want! Just don't hurt me anymore!" the meerkat rasped wretchedly.

I smirked, lifting my knee off his windpipe. Probably for the best. The crazy interrogation tactics were always more Guillam's forte.

"Alright," I grunted. "You're going to start at the very beginning, and you're going to tell me everything,"

I wasn't smirking as much as I left the house for my car an hour or so later. Pulling out my mobile, I dialed Guillam.

"Peter?" I asked breathlessly. "I--I don't believe this, but I think Todd's beyond our reach,"

"What do you mean?" the cross fox replied, unwilling to believe me.

I shook my head numbly and ran my fingers through my tousled hair, my brain working furiously, still trying to process what I'd been told.

"I... I don't think Todd is on this planet anymore,"