Love is More Than a Word

Story by Jonathon Ford on SoFurry

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This story is a work of fiction, but was inspired by simulated actual events. It may contain various acts of yiffery between differing species of the same sex. If such a thing offends you or is against the rules in your area then please read no further. Otherwise read on and enjoy. Comments are always welcomed: [email protected]

Love is More Than a Word

©2006 Jonathon "CJ" Ford

The south east Queensland sun beat down on Maroochydore airport, much as it had done the day before, typical of an early winter's day. Chris was an otter in his late twenties, who had recently made captain with Sunstate Express airways, and today like most others he worked he was starting his day by inspecting the aircraft that he'd be operating. "How many times have I told Devon that I love him?" He thought to himself as he rounded the tail section of the little nineteen seat EMB-110. Everyone called the aircraft a bandit, simply because no-one could remember the spelling of its proper name. It was a fair enough question as well. He and Devon had been dating for the better part of a year now, and as he thought about it he'd lost count of the number of times he'd uttered that phrase. But that wasn't the thing that was bothering the otter as he checked the back edge of the wing, it was how many times had he said those words and actually truly meant them. That is, not just saying the words to say them, but to say them and have it mean something. It was a thought that was nagging at the forefront of his mind as he turned the four bladed propeller, which rested in front of a powerful Pratt & Whitney engine that would, in under an hour, be seeing him off on the first of seven runs to Coolangatta and back again today.

The reason for the mental question had come to a head the previous night when he and his lovely fox, Devon, had been at a company dinner party. At the party Chris had been busily talking with his fellow pilots and the other ground staff about flying in general or how the scheduled fleet upgrade was going. Sunstate Express had been purchasing some new SAAB 340B's to service the higher demand routes, such as the Maroochydore to Coolangatta run that Chris had been doing for the last four months. All through the evening Devon stood on Chris' arm, nodding and playing the perfect mate, and all through the evening Chris pretty well completely ignored him. In fact he probably barely said ten words to him throughout the night, and at no time had he ever acknowledged that he loved him. Even the short drive home was in utter silence. Devon stared out the window of the Mazda 6 as the drove home, looking at the field of stars that passed overhead. It wasn't until they got back to their home, a not overly lavish but comfortable three bedroom place, definately one of the smaller homes on Minyama Island, that Chris said he loved him for the first time all night.

"Thanks for coming to the party tonight sweetheart." Chris chirped as connecting door to the house from the garage closed behind his fox. "I know it wasn't all that exciting for you."

Devon smiled weakly and nodded, that was the understatement of the year if ever he had heard one. In truth he'd nearly been bored to tears. A fact made worse by his mate, the otter whom he loved more then anything, had taken no notice of his presence the whole evening. Devon looked at his watch and sighed as he read the time. "I think I'm going to go to bed hun." He gave Chris a quick hug before trotting off down the hall.

Chris decided to make himself a cup of tea and stay up for a little while longer, so he padded around to the kitchen and put the kettle on. He lent against the counter as he waited for the kettle to boil. When the water was just about ready Chris pushed himself off the counter, turning around and pulling the cozy off the teapot and opening the little ceramic jar that held their current supply of tea bags. By the time the automatic thermostat cut out and turned the now boiling water off, Chris had the strings from the tea bags trimmed and the bags themselves in the pot. Carefully he lifted the kettle from its base and poured the steaming liquid into the pot. He set the kettle back on its base before putting the lid back on the teapot. He used the few minutes while the tea was brewing to get his mug ready. He pulled the milk from the bottom tray of the fridge door, pouring a small amount into his mug before returning it to its place and closing the door with a sweep of his foot paw. He grabbed the artificial sweetener dispenser and shook a pair tablets out into his paw before dropping them into his mug as well. The couple minutes that it took him to wander around the kitchen was enough for the tea to be ready. Chris lifted the ceramic pot from its bed and poured the steaming tea into his mug.

Chris padded quietly over to the kitchen table, holding the mug with both paws and savoring its warmth on his pads. Gently he set the mug on the table a started to thumb through the day's paper, picking up where he'd left off this morning before work. After about twenty minutes he finished his tea and folded the paper. It was getting towards half past eleven and he had to start work at seven in the morning. He stretched his arms wide and yawned before getting up and pushing his chair in. He placed the empty mug in the kitchen sink and stalked off down the hall, doing his best to keep his toe claws from clicking on the tiled floor. Chris shed his shirt as he made his way down the hall to their bedroom, his soft chocolate brown fur seemed to catch and hold the dim light of the moon that filtered in through the windows. He folded his shirt over his arm as he slowly eased the door open.

Devon was lying in bed on his left side. Chris placed the folded shirt on the dresser before taking a moment just to admire his mate. He always seemed to sleep on his left side Chris thought to himself as he started removing his long pants. Soon they joined his shirt atop the dresser. Left only with his silk boxer shorts Chris made his way over to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth quickly and shuffled out of his boxers, tossing them into the hamper. He ran his paws through his soft fur and looked at himself in the mirror for a moment before flipping out the light and padding softly back towards the bed. Since it had been warm the last few nights Devon had only left the bottom sheet on the bed and its soft fabric brought out ever curve and shape of Devon's body for Chris to see in the moonlight. Chris let his eyes wander over his lover's sleeping form, and it didn't take him long to realize that he wasn't wearing any boxers either. That was all it took to get Chris the beginnings of a hard-on. Quietly he shuffled under the sheets next to his love. Devon felt the bed move slightly and turned over, flopping an arm lazily over Chris' waist.

Chris took the opportunity to snuggle in nice and close to Devon. As he wiggled his way right up beside his mate their two bodies pressed together under the sheet. Chris was almost instantly warmed by the thick soft fur of Devon's chest as he nuzzled his short otter muzzle against his lover's shoulder. He could hear Devon murring softly as he dozed and they jostled to find a comfortable position to snuggle into and sleep.

As they snuggled Devon became acutely aware of Chris' arousal as his otter cock pressed firmly against his inner thigh. For a moment he just lay there letting the organ press into his soft fur and tuned muscle, but after a minute of just lying there, without opening his eyes he gently kissed Chris on the nose and turned over to face away from him. Chris was almost wondering what was going on as he felt his already hard shaft being dragged through the soft, subtle fur of Devon's thigh, until it again rested against his inner thigh. Devon swished his tail out of the way, exposing his pink tailhole to his mate's maleness. Chris shifted his position and balance slightly, brining the tip of his otterhood to rest right against his mates pucker. Chris wrapped a paw around Devon's chest and pulled his upper body tightly behind his love's. Chris gave Devon a soft lick on the cheek as he steadily pressed the head of his cock against the obstruction before it. As the pressure on his tailhole mounted Devon relaxed slightly, letting the head of Chris' prick slip inside, he gasped at the sudden entry but just as quickly relaxed again as his mate began to slowly feed inch after inch of his nine inch meat under his fox's tail.

After nearly a minute of slow, steady pushing Chris' balls rest firmly against Devon's cheeks. Slowly he pulled all but the head of his meat out before thrusting it back in. He settled into a good rhythm thrusting his heart out, and climbing steadily towards his climax. About halfway there he noticed that Devon, who was normal the more vocal of the two during their love making was oddly quiet, almost seeming totally disinterested in the whole affair like he was just going through the motions. Chris tried to ignore it, putting it down to the fact that it had been a long day and he was probably just too tired to be as vocal as normal. But as he continued thrust away he found it terribly off putting. It got to the point where it was all he could think about and so he stopped mid thrust and pulled his wet and still needy cock from its tight confines before leaning over almost half on top of Devon. After a moment of just lying there in utter silence, save for some heavier then normal breathing, Chris rested his chin on Devon's shoulder. "What's the matter hun?" he asked quietly, "You not your usual self this evening."

Devon snuffled slightly before sitting up and leaning against the headboard. "The problem is I stood there beside you all through that party this evening while you talked with your work friends and other people that you hardly know, and all that time you never once acknowledged that I was there or introduced me to anyone." He said as tears began to well in his deep blue eyes. "When we go out it's almost as if I'm not there." Devon added as the first of the tears rolled down his muzzle.

"Hey come on now." Chris cooed softly as he shuffled his way up to sit next to him. "You know I love you." He said wiping a tear from the side of Devon's muzzle.

"How many times have you said you love me Chris? And how many of those did you truly mean what you said?" Devon said, before sinking back down into the bed with his back to Chris and snuffled himself to sleep.

It had caught Chris totally of center. He shuffled back down into bed as he considered the question. Chris almost felt like giggling at his mate's feelings, but he knew that that would only make matters worse so he kept that impulse buried. Devon snuffled and sniffled in his sleep next to him as he lay there, looking at the ceiling trying to contemplate exactly what he should or even could say to Devon in the morning. Mentally he started going over the times when he'd uttered that phrase in their relationship. He lost count of the number as his mind grew more and more tired, he didn't know when he fell asleep, just that his mind was a jumble when he did.

It seemed like only a second had passed as his wristwatch beeped softly in his ear that it was time to get up. Chris shuffled around his side of the bed for a moment before looking over to where Devon was still sound asleep. Silently he slipped out of bed and to the second bathroom down the hall, not wanting to wake Devon. His mind still played over what he'd been told last night as he brushed his teeth and ate his breakfast. He finished quickly and sat at the kitchen table with pen in paw and a notepad open on the table. Time and time again Chris would lower his pen to the page and then jerk it back as he tried to think of the right words to express how he felt. A tear welled in the corner of one big brown eye as he lent on the table staring down at the blank page that seemed to mock him with its sheer emptiness. But the tear refused to leave his eye until he brushed it away with the back of his paw. Finally something that at least made some sort of coherent sense came to mind and he scribbled it down on the pad before he hurried out the door in order to avoid being late for work.

On the drive to the airport Chris thought about what he'd written on the pad and about the question still burning a hole in his mind. He'd never been much good at expressing his feelings and the seemingly poor excuse for an apology that he'd left for Devon to find when he woke up was testament to that fact. He had just pulled into the carpark for Sunstate Express staff when the idea hit him. Devon's favorite flower was a special Australian rose. They were deep crimson and smelled heavenly, but only a few florists in the local area actually stocked them. Chris was sure that he could manage to sneak a few minutes during flight planning this morning to call around and get a bunch sent to the house.

Switching off the engine of his car Chris stared out the windshield and past the boundary fence to the three aircraft parked at their gates. He sighed as he slid out of the driver's seat and placed his captain's hat on. He trailed his paw across the hood of Mazda as he walked around to the passenger side and hefted his flight bag from the seat. He pushed the door shut firmly and pressed the button on his keys to arm the alarm system.

Chris swiped his ASIC pass through the reader beside the staff entrance door and pushed the frosted tempered glass door open. He let the door swing shut behind him, waiting until it had clicked closed again before heading to the flight crew locker room to put what he wouldn't be needing out of his flight bag away. He poured himself a cup of coffee and lifted a phonebook from behind the small reception desk. With coffee in one paw and directory in the other he pushed the door into the flight planning room open with his hip, swiveling gracefully to let the door close behind his tail again. He flipped through the pages of the book until he found the section that had all the florists listed. Pulling his cellular from his pants pocket he searched the page for the number of the florist the he always used. It took a minute, but he finally located the number. He dialed and waited for someone on the other end to pick up. When they finally did answer Chris asked if they had any of the roses in stock. The attendant on the other end of the line apologized saying that they had sold out just the other day and wouldn't be getting anymore in until later in the week. But he did suggest another store to try, since they normally had them. Chris thanked the person for their help and pressed the button to finish the call before dialing the new number.

"Hello, Sunshine Flowers this is Jenny." A feminine voice said.

"Hi Jenny, it's Chris Gram, I was hoping that you might have some Australian Blood Roses."

"I think we do Chris, but just hang on one second and I'll check to be sure." Jenny said before pressing the button to put the otter on hold. About fifteen seconds later Jenny's voice reappeared, "You there Chris?" she said.

"Yep, I'm still here."

"Good, I just looked and we do have some in at the moment."

Chris breathed a sigh of relief, "That's great Jenny, umm, do you guys deliver?"

"Yes we do, right across the coast."

"Perfect. Can I get a half dozen and I'll give you the address." Chris said, before giving her his address and his credit card details to pay for the purchase.

"Now would you like a card to go with these Chris?" Jenny asked.

"Yes I would," Chris replied, "Just put on it "Please forgive me."

"Well that's all done then. Those should be delivered before lunch today."

"Thank you very much Jenny, you've been a great help." Chris said before hanging up the phone.

Chris put the phone book away and picked up a copy of his flight plan and passenger list before heading out to the tarmac to inspect his aircraft for the day and to supervise its refueling.

Chris was just walking around the nose of the aircraft to open the main cabin door when Trevor, an older and rather lean built Badger pulled up in front of the left paw engine in the refueling truck. Chris unlocked and opened the air stair door, stepping up and putting his gear down on the floor of the aircraft before going over to say hello to Trevor. "Morning Trevor," Chris said as the badger stepped down from the cab of the fuel truck, "Looks like a nice day for it."

"Yes it does in deed." Trevor replied taking the offered paw and shaking it firmly.

Despite Trevor's rather slight build he had a very strong grip, which caught nearly everyfur by surprise, but Chris had known the old badger for a while so he knew what to expect and he suspected that most badger's where the same way. Chris pulled the load and trim sheet out of his shirt pocket and unfolded it before handing it to Trevor, who looked at the fuel that was required to be added. The badger nodded and noted the figure on his clipboard before handing the sheet back. Chris knew Trevor well enough to know that he'd get the fuel right and so set about doing his inspection of the aircraft.

Even though he'd sent the flowers and done his best to word out some semblance of an apology to Devon that damned question still lingered in his mind as he worked his way around the aircraft.

Chris had made it around the aircraft and just finished getting his gear sorted out in the left paw seat of the aircraft before Trevor finished his refueling of the little commuter. Chris hopped off the stairs and signed the fuel receipt, collecting his copy before giving the old badger's paw another shake. He slipped the fuel docket into the aircraft's folder and stowed it back behind the right paw seat.

Chris settled into the left paw seat as he watched one of the Sunstate Express ground crew, a platypus that couldn't have been any older then twenty connect the Ground Power Unit to the power point above the nose gear. After he connected the plug the platypus stepped back and turned flipped the switch on the GPU and looked up at Chris through the cockpit side window. As the platypus hit the switch all the electronics on the flight deck powered up, the gyros for the turn coordinators began to spin up, GPS/COM systems came alive, their color screens showing the various self tests being carried out. Chris shot the marsupial a thumbs up, which was returned before the platypus turned and walked off to tend to one of the other aircraft that would be going out today.

Chris' mind worked trying to find the right way to say "I love you" to Devon when he got home this afternoon. Idly he punched in the waypoints on the number one GPS flight plan page, entering point after point without really thinking about them. He was so lost in his own little world that he didn't notice his first officer for the day, a thirty something badger named Glen, as he slid into the right paw seat. Chris jumped slightly when he noticed a black striped paw reaching across his to tune a radio frequency. "Jesus Glen," He said, "How long have you been there?"

Glen grinned at the slightly smaller and slightly younger otter, "About two minutes I guess. You were so caught up in your own little world that I didn't want to disturb you."

"Thanks Glen. I guess I was a bit preoccupied there." Chris, smiling back weakly. "So who's going to be Pilot Flying for the first leg this morning?" Chris asked as he pressed one last button to cross fill the flight plan from one GPS to the other.

"I'll flip you for it." Glen said, before pulling a fifty cent coin from his shirt pocket. "Call it." he said flipping to coin so that it just barely missed touching the roof.

"Heads." Chris called as his eyes watched the coins rapid spin.

Glen caught the coin expertly in his right paw and slapped it over onto the back of his left in one fluid movement. When he moved his paw out of the way Queen Elizabeth the Second's image stared up at them.

"Well looks like it's my first leg this morning." Chris said, clipping a blank piece of paper to the flat writing space of his control column.

Chris pressed a button on the audio selector panel, sending the feed from one of the two navigation radios through to the flight deck loudspeaker. At first all that could be heard was the recurring dah dah, dah dit dah dit of the Morse code that told them what station they had tuned. Pushing another button on one of the radios, a female voice became super imposed. "Maroochydore terminal information Alpha, Runway 18, Wind Southerly at seven knots." The recording carried on for another ten seconds or so detailing the air pressure, visibility, and temperature. All of which Chris copied onto his notepad before deselecting the loudspeaker and lifting his headset from the side panel. After getting the earphones to sit over his ears properly Chris made a call to the ground controller in order to get his airways clearance to the Gold Coast. Chris wrote down all the particulars of the clearance before reading them back to the controller and getting them crosschecked by Glen.

As the first of the passengers started to file out of the terminal building Glen slipped out of his seat, "I'll get the passengers seated and get the safety brief out of the way before we start engines." He said before slipping out the cockpit door.

Chris nodded as he started to set up the various switches for starting the engines with the external power. He could hear Glen on the other side of the door giving the passengers directions to their seats. Once the last passenger was onboard and seated Glen started with the safety briefing, running through all the normal bits and pieces about emergency exits and use of seatbelts. As Glen was running through the briefing in the cabin Chris watched the baggage cart drive back to the terminal parking area, a quick glance at the annunciator panel confirmed that the baggage door was properly closed and locked. Glen made his way down the aisle checking that each of the passengers had their seatbelts done up properly. After he got back to the front of the cabin he grabbed the handrail of the stairs and pulled the door up, pulling it closed and rotating the handle to the locked position. In the cockpit Chris kept his eye on the amber cabin door light. As Glen moved the latch over to the locked position the light extinguished and Chris reached up to the overhead panel and flipped on the aircraft's two rotating beacons, to advise anyone on the ground that they were about to start.

Glen pulled his two shoulder harness straps down and clipped them into his lap belt. Out in front of the aircraft the platypus ground technician held up his left paw showing the number two then held up his right paw and drew a clockwise circle in the air. Chris flipped the starter and a low hum filled the air as the right engine started turning. Once the engine rpm passed 14% Glen pushed the fuel lever forward, the engine instruments began to so increases in temperature and fuel flow before peaking just below the maximum and dropping back to normal. Once the noise from the right engine stabilized the marsupial out the front dropped one finger on his left paw, giving the signal to start the left engine.

Within a minute both engines were running normally and Chris pushed the prop levers up into the take-off range. The aircraft shuddered briefly as the two four bladed propellers moved into the forward thrust range, the prop rpm gauges in front of Chris and Glen showed the props had stabilized. Glen brought the aircraft's engine generators online before giving the ground staff the thumbs up to disconnect the GPU. The young platypus trotted up to the nose of the aircraft and unplugged the heavy power cable, securing the cover plate before hoisting the cable over his shoulder and trudging his way back to the power cart. Glen tuned the radio frequencies for the departure, since they never changed from on day to the next. Chris checked the correct one was set at the moment before making his next radio call. "Maroochydore Ground SE 1980 request taxi and we have information Alpha."

"SE 1980 good morning Chris. Taxi holding point Bravo 1 for runway 18 contact tower entering the runway."

"Holding point Bravo 1 contact tower entering, SE 1980."

Chris edged the throttles forward in order to get the loaded bandit off the flat spots that sitting overnight had created in the tires. With a gentle bump the aircraft began to move forward. Chris had his left paw resting on the steering tiller, as the aircraft lumbered away from its parking position he pulled the swing arm to the right and got the plane to start turning. AS he passed about the halfway point of the turn Chris pulled the throttles back to idle to prevent blowing an inordinate amount of dust into the faces of the ground techs and the front of the terminal. As they approached the holding point at Bravo 1 Glen pressed the button to switch from ground to tower. "Maroochydore Tower SE 1980, ready, request backtrack."

"SE 1980, Maroochydore Tower, cleared to backtrack and line up runway 18 cross runway 12."

"Backtrack and line up runway 18, Cross runway 12. SE 1980"

As they slowly made their way down the kilometer of runway to the threshold Glen read out the various pre take-off checklist items. By the time that they reached the end of the runway all but the last three items were completed and the final ones had to wait until they turned around anyway. Chris pulled the steering arm to the right briefly, letting the aircraft swing off the centerline, before throwing the tiller hard to the left and giving the left brake a gentle squeeze with his footpaw. With the combined effect the little airliner just about pivoted on its left main tire as it swung around to face south. Chris took his time getting the aircraft lined up properly and the nose wheel nice and straight. Now that they were pointing the correct way Glen called out the last three items of the checklist and waited for Chris to reply to each before finally saying the checklist was completed.

"SE 1980 cleared for take-off. Turn left to set course." Said the tower controller.

"Cleared for take-off with a left turn to set course, SE 1980." Chris replied, before laying his paw on the throttles.

Chris edged the throttles forward slowly. He paused briefly at 50% to allow the two engines to get synchronized, before pushing them all the way up to full power. As the needles passed through 75% Chris let his footpaws off the brakes. The little bandit leapt forward off of its mark like a sprinter off the blocks at a starter's pistol. After the initial jump in acceleration, the aircraft steadily gained momentum as meter after meter of runway rolled past. "80 knots." Glen called out, looking at his airspeed indicator.

Chris glanced down at his when he heard Glen say eight and watched as the pointer passed smoothly through the 80 knot hash mark.

There was a brief pause as the aircraft continued to increase in speed. Then Glen called out "Rotate." At the command Chris smoothly pulled back on the control column, after a few inches of travel the nose of the aircraft lifted, parting the nose wheel from the grooved bitumen of the runway. The main gear followed suit a second or so later with a gentle thumping sound as the weight of the aircraft became solely supported by her wings. The instruments confirmed that the aircraft was starting to climb normally as the vertical speed indicator showed 700 feet per minute positive and the altimeter showed them passing fifty feet. Chris kept his gaze fixed on the instruments, "Gear up." He commanded as the big hand on the altimeter passed 80 feet without pause.

Glen reached for the handle, pulling it out before moving it to the "UP" position. The three little green lights that showed the gear was locked down extinguished and the red "Transit" light illuminated.

Glen hadn't even moved his paw off the handle when a god almighty BANG erupted through the cabin. The aircraft yawed violently to the left and the annuciator panel lit up like the proverbial Christmas tree. Chris pushed hard on the right rudder to try and compensate for the massive yaw to the left. Glen started to work through the engine failure checklist as Chris struggled to remain in control of the damaged plane. With alarm after alarm ringing in the cockpit Chris noticed that the aircraft wasn't climbing anymore, in fact the altimeter was slowly winding back down through 100 feet. The ground was getting larger and larger in the windscreen and one of Chris' main problems was the ten foot tall perimeter fence that was coming up more quickly then he'd like. He continued to battle and keep the wings level, but he was running out of control travel and the remaining engine just wasn't producing enough power.

If they could have seen what the passengers were looking at on the left wing, the reason for the poor performance would have been very apparent. One of the left hand engine propeller blades and fractured and broken off. With the massive vibration caused by the missing blade the engine had nearly torn itself completely free of the wing. In fact Chris probably would have wished that it had, but with the engine and the remains of the prop sticking straight up in the airflow over the wing, the other engine just couldn't produce the power required to overcome the drag on the airframe, all this lead to the net result that the aircraft was now on a rather short one way trip to the ground.

Chris glanced over at Glen as the badger grabbed the PA mic. "Brace for impact." He shouted into the microphone. He dropped the handset between his seat and the center console as Chris kept up his losing battle for control.

Chris watched as the airport's perimeter fence slipped below the nose as the one still turning propeller missed the top strand of barbed wire by a mere inch or two. The next concern was the road that ran across the flight path of the runway just a few short meters past the fence. Chris looked to his left just in time to see the blue Holden Commodore, which had no chance of missing the falling aircraft. The car and airplane slammed together, the car impacting just behind the cockpit. The impact of the car skewed the aircraft violently to the left. The impact with the ground was just as violent. The last thing that went through Chris' mind as he felt the inertia reels on his shoulder straps lock was "I'm so sorry Devon." After that everything went black.

The aircraft and combined car slid to a halt in the open field across the road. Acrid, thick, black smoke plumed up from the wreckage. On board the aircraft passengers moaned as they began to try and move about, feeling all their various injuries.

In the control tower the controllers had seen the explosion of the engine and watched as the aircraft began to slowly fall from the sky. The ground controller had reached over slapped the crash alarm, alerting fire and ambulance crews. Two of the airport's three fire tenders were speeding down the taxiways towards the rising plume of smoke within a minute, as the ambulance and paramedic car raced down the airport's main road. The lead fire truck didn't even bother to slow down as it reached the locked perimeter bump gate. The restraining chain and lock giving way easily under the impact of the heavy vehicle. It took under two minutes for the fire tenders to arrive at the scene of the crash. The lead truck quickly started his water canon on the roof of the cabin, sending a mix of water and fire retarding foam over the smoking and smoldering left wing. Within seconds the wing was completely encased in thick foam as the paramedics from the second truck and the ambulance crew rushed to the aircraft. A large white tiger dressed in full fire gear hefted the gas powered buzz saw from the equipment compartment and began to cut an entry into the wreckage.

A few of the passengers who had managed to escape serious injury pushed out the right over wing exit and began to clamber out of the aircraft, each was met by a paramedic and escorted around to the back of the one waiting ambulance. The sound of approaching sirens could be heard over the shrieking of the saw as it cut and tore its way through the aluminum fuselage. Soon two, then three, and finally four additional ambulances pulled to a halt in the open field. Police cars followed shortly after and officers kept the growing crowd of bystanders back to a safe distance as others quickly blocked off traffic in both directions.

Once the tiger finally got the hole cut in the fuselage of the aircraft he stepped aside as his partners rushed into the aircraft to free the remaining trapped passengers. Firemen walked a few of the less severely injured passengers out of the new door that they'd created, handing them off to other paramedics. The paramedics treated the minor cuts and other injuries quickly before shipping the passengers off to nearby Nambour General Hospital for further treatment. By now as one ambulance left another from one of the other stations pulled in.

One paramedic tried the cockpit door, but found that it was jammed shut by the twisted bulkhead that it was hinged to. He motioned to one of the nearby firemen who quickly retrieved the buzz saw and cut away the two hinges. With the hinges no longer holding the door the paramedic dragged it open and stepped inside. Glen was leaning back in his seat with his left paw pressed tightly over a deep cut on his forehead that had been caused be a flying piece of glass from a side window that had shattered in the impact. The paramedic reached over Glen's shoulder and unclipped his seatbelt before half lifting, half dragging him from his seat. A second paramedic waited beside the cockpit door and helped pack Glen off to a waiting ambulance.

The first paramedic quickly returned to the cockpit and looked Chris over. Chris was slumped forward over the control column. His once clean white shirt was soaked red with blood from a gash on the back of his head. His right footpaw stuck out from behind the center console at a very odd angle and the paramedic couldn't tell whether or not he was breathing. Placing his latex gloved paw against Chris' neck he could feel a weak pulse. The paramedic stuck his head out of the cockpit door and told his partner to get a stretcher and to radio the rescue helicopter to be ready to take-off immediately.

The paramedic pulled Chris' limp body from the left paw seat and laid him on the stretcher that had been brought from a waiting ambulance. It was a quick forty second dash from the crash site to the rescue helicopter base. As the ambulance pulled in the flight medic and crew chief rushed from the building. They had their helmets on and were ready to fly. The ambulance had barely managed to stop before they were throwing open the back doors and pulling the stretcher, complete with patient from the back. They pushed the stretcher quickly through the building and around the back of the helicopter as it sat on the pad. The two pilots at the controls had the engines running and the blades turning as their crewmates loaded their precious cargo in through the big clamshell doors at the back.

Once Chris was loaded and secured both medics hopped aboard. The crew chief gave the pilot in the right paw seat a quick tap on the shoulder, signaling that they were ready to go. "Maroochydore Tower, Rescue 511, request taxi and airways clearance for the Royal Brisbane Hospital, Med 1."

"Rescue 511, Maroochydore Tower, cleared immediate departure, track direct to the RBH."

"Direct to the RBH, Rescue 511." The pilot in the left paw seat said as the pilot in the right paw seat smoothly lifted the big helicopter from its pad.

Soon the helicopter was speeding over the ground on its way to the hospital, the two paramedics in the back kept a close watch on all of Chris' vital signs as the two pilots steered the craft. The rhythmic humming beat of the chopper's four main rotor blades managed to pull Chris back into conciseness. He tried to open his eyes but found that the small amount of sunlight that they let in and the strobe effect of the spinning blades made his head pound worse then it already was. He tried to move slightly but found that he was strapped down securely. One of the paramedics laid a gloved paw over his. Chris tried to say something but all that came out of his muzzle was incoherent babble. Then everything faded to darkness again.

Twenty-five minutes after rescue 511 departed Maroochydore it was setting down on the rooftop helipad of Royal Brisbane Hospital, a team of doctors and nurses waited by the elevator to receive their patient. The two paramedics quickly hopped out of the side door and pulled Chris from the back of the helicopter. As they began to wheel him over to the waiting doctors the medical team came forward meeting the medics about halfway the crew chief gave the doctors a brief rundown on their newest patient, before returning to the helicopter and getting back into the air for their next run.

Back on the coast Devon sat at home looking at the half dozen roses that Chris had sent him. Chris' attempted apology rested on the kitchen table under Devon's folded paws, the ink was runny in a few places where Devon's tears had landed on the paper. He knew it was always a struggle for Chris to try and put his feelings into words and the note from the flowers along with his letter from the morning showed that he'd done his best to express the way he really felt. Devon was just staring into the roses, nursing a coffee when the doorbell rang. He wiped the last bit of moisture from the sides of his muzzle before he got up to answer the door.

"Yes." He said as he opened the door slowly. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the two uniformed police officers standing on his front step.

"Mr. Devon Bradmen?" the first officer, a large lion, asked as he removed his cap.

"Yes." Devon managed to squeak out.

"I'm Inspector Reed and this is Sergeant Fieldmen, we're with the Queensland police service. Are you Chris Gram's significant other?"

"Yes." Devon was just about to start sobbing.

"There's been an accident involving Mr. Gram and he's been taken to the Royal Brisbane Hospital for treatment. He is expected to recover, but he's in a serious condition." Inspector Reed said.

"I don't have any way to get down there." Devon managed between sniffles. At least it wasn't as bad as he'd first feared.

"Sergeant Fieldmen and I can take you down." Replied Inspector Reed without missing a beat.

"Oh. Ok, just give me a minute to lock up." Devon said still trying not to break down totally.

A few minutes later Devon and the two officers sped off down the Bruce highway towards Brisbane. The drive was made a bit shorter by the fact that Inspector Reed left his lights and siren on the whole time and only rarely dropped his speed below 130 kph down the highway. But for the hour and a quarter that passed as they drove into the heart of the city Devon never said a word and just sniffled as a few tears that he couldn't hold back rolled down the fur at the sides of his muzzle.

At the hospital the two officers escorted Devon to the waiting room and helped him through the red tape and mound of forms that needed filling out as he waited for news about Chris. About ten minutes after starting to fill out the paperwork the two officers departed. Devon thanked them for getting him down here. They both simply nodded before heading back up to the coast and their own mountain of paperwork.

Devon waited in the lobby for what seemed to be an eternity until a nurse came over and told him that Chris was out of surgery and that he could go and see him now. Devon wasted no time getting up to Chris' room. He stood by his lover's bed and looked at the slick, glossy brown fur. A few places still showed hints of crimson. His right leg was set in plaster and a tube run over one ear, under his nose where a pair of small outlets pushed oxygen into his system, then over the other ear and back behind his head. Devon gently stroked Chris' left paw as the last of his mental strength gave out and he began to sob uncontrollably. His whole body shook with each breath he took as tears streamed from his eyes and down the sides of his muzzle. He planted his head on the sheets, his forehead resting on Chris' paw as he cried. Soon the sheet beneath his face was soaked and he twisted, flopping heavily into a chair beside the bed. Devon didn't know how long he continued to cry or even when he passed out from lack of energy.

Two days passed much the same way as Devon slept beside Chris' bed, refusing the nurse's repeated requests that he get a proper nights rest. On the third morning Chris groaned softly and slowly opened his eyes. Only to screw them shut again as the bright artificial light caused a splitting headache to envelope him. He moved his paw slightly until it brushed against something. The something was soft, warm, and fur covered. The brushing of Chris' paw against his stirred Devon from his sleep and he stood up quickly to look down at his mate. Chris could hear the shuffling of footpaws beside him as Devon stood up. Slowly and carefully he opened his eyes again, ignoring the returning headache until his vision cleared enough for him to see Devon's face looking down at him.

Devon smiled softly and gently rubbed his mate's paw as he looked down at him. Chris managed to smile back weakly. He worked his muzzle a few times as he gazed back into Devon's eyes. He took in the dark tracks that had been worn into his fur beside his muzzle from what must have been a massive amount of crying. "I'm so very sorry Devon." Chris managed to say softly. "I've been a complete fool and neglected you. I love you more then anything else in this world and from now on I intend to prove it."

Devon smiled back and wiped a few tear from his eye, "I love you more then anything as well Chris."

The End...

20-04-06

Note: This story has an alternate ending as well which I will post if you wish me to do so.