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Ships are launching from my chest

Some have names but most do not

If you find one, please, let me know what piece I've lost

(Radical Face)

---

"What in the flying fuck is going on here?" I asked for at least the umpteenth time that hour.

It wasn't even that I expected an answer anymore, more that the phrase was quickly becoming something of a motto of mine.

Frustrated, I slammed my fist down on the tabletop, looking around the large canvas tent that comprised MACRO's temporary office space. People hurried this way and that, carrying files and dropping off memos. Internet had evidently cut out some point before I arrived, and the loss of email and other electronic transmissions severely cut down on our already suffering productivity.

"Can I get a status update?" I asked, crossing over to a table where Morgan, Cameron, and a few others stood. "Or even maybe just a plain old status. I haven't gotten a straight answer from anyone yet since I got back from Londinium,"

"Maybe if you hadn't been out of fucking town, you'd have an idea," Cameron snapped back, tossing a stack of papers at Karl.

"I didn't exactly think the middle of Saaduuts would turn into a smoldering fucking hole, did I?" I growled, shooting the raccoon a dirty look. "Silly me, trusting that I could leave town for a while without the place turning into a damn ruin,"

"If we had a clue what was going on, we would fill you in," Morgan interjected, placing a warning hand on Cameron's shoulder. "But it's anyone's guess at this point. There are just too many unknowns right now,"

"Can we get some of these unknowns known, then?" I asked, throwing my arms in the air.

A commotion by the entrance to the temporary headquarters directed my attention away from my colleagues. Several individuals in dark suits trooped through the tent flap, spreading throughout the space. One or two of them began gathering up loose sheets of paper, sifting through them, while others started to escort some of the MACRO personnel out of the tent.

"Hey hey whoa whoa whoa!" Karl bellowed, finally deciding to start acting the part as section chief, striding towards the group of newcomers. "What in the hell do you all think you're doing here? I need to see some credentials right now,"

"MX4," a burly badger with greying fur replied shortly, producing a badge from the inner pocket of his suit jacket. "I need this space cleared. Now,"

Karl chuckled again. I can tell you, from past experience, you should_not_ fuck with that muskrat when he started to laugh if you wanted to remain alive and more or less intact.

"I don't think you understand the situation," he said. "This... occurrence falls under MACRO jurisdiction. And we've got this thing as handled as best it could be given the... extremity. Now, if you don't mind getting the fuck out of here, we have a pressing emergency situation to handle, and we don't have time to deal with extra people getting underfoot,"

"I think it's you who isn't understanding the situation," the badger snapped, signaling for a few of his agents to continue escorting out our personnel. "The situation has been declared a potential terrorist threat. Active terrorist threat as far as we are concerned. That makes it an MX4 matter. We are going to need all of your files and memoranda on these matters as quickly as possible before your personnel vacate the premises,"

"This is the first I've heard of any of this," Karl snapped, squaring off against the imposing MX4 representative. "Now, unless you get me a letter from the godsdamned Chancellor, I'm not going to be budging an inch, nor are any of my agents,"

"Escort him out," the badger ordered, folding his arms across his chest.

Before Karl could get a word in edgewise, a pair of MX4 agents grasped him by the shoulders, wheeling him around and marching him roughly towards the door. Moments later, I felt a hand on my own shoulder. Wheeling around, I smacked the hand away none too gently.

"I'm capable of leaving on my own," I spat, glaring at the MX4 agent who had materialized behind me.

"I'm going to need those files you have there, too, fox," the agent said as I stalked away towards the tent flap, pointing to the manila folders in my hand.

"Almost forgot about those," I muttered, dropping the files onto the ground, scattering papers everywhere.

"Who do those assholes think they are, barging in here and hijacking the whole operation?" Morgan grumbled in my ear as we stalked away from the commandeered headquarters tent. "Fuck MX4,"

"Mm, yeah. Guess that's what happens when you have a bunch of pricks with superiority complexes--what are you doing here?" my head practically spun around 180 degrees as I spotted my brother shuffling towards the tent with his partner Guillam following closely at his tail.

"Oh, hey Roger," Warren said somewhat sheepishly. "Er... I'm sorry about this whole... misunderstanding,"

"Misunderstanding?" I shouted in consternation, barely acknowledging Morgan as she took her leave. "That's a hell of a way to put it,"

Warren threw up his hands. "What can I say? The folks up at the Nuxálk District Branch are... special. Real head-cases. Total nutters. Zealots,"

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, we are MX4, after all," Guillam said softly. "We tried to get them to cool their jets. This is your gig far as Warren and I are concerned. But these higher-ups have never been much with listening,"

"Well, whatever," I snapped, turning tail. "Good luck with... whatever the fuck is going on. Hopefully you can make some actual headway on this shitshow,"

All of a sudden, the mere two hours of sleep I'd managed in the past two and a half days started to catch up with me. I needed some rest.

"Hey bro," Warren said softly, putting a hand on my arm. "You look like you've been through hell. Go get some shut-eye. Take care of yourself,"

"Mm," I nodded.

Tipping his head, Warren spun on his heels and strode off towards the tent. Guillam followed close after him, shooting me a sympathetic look.

I sighed heavily, stuffing my hands into the pockets of my polar fleece. I could use a good, soft bed. I just didn't know whether my door was open for me. All I could do was hope that Reynard hadn't decided to change the locks during my absence.

A cold wind whipped around me as I trudged down the street. The sound of sirens wafted thinly through the smoky air. This wasn't Saaduuts. This was hell.

***********

***********

"So, how has it been going for you in the time following the episode?" I asked, scratching my chin with the end of my pen as I stared down at the sheet of paper on the desk in front of me. "Have you been experiencing any negative physical side-effects? Nausea, light-headedness, cardiac arrhythmia?"

"Er, no? Nothing I can think of," Cliff MacKay's brow furrowed as he thought. "Cardiac arrhythmia?"

"You know, irregular heartbeat or whatever," I shrugged, fluttering my hand over my chest for illustration.

"No, not really," the handsome raccoon shook his head. "Is it something that should be happening?"

"Nah," I chuckled softly. "That would be pretty shitty, wouldn't it? Oh, it's just--we're making sure we cover all the bases,"

If I was totally honest, I hadn't a fucking clue what I was doing, nor did I know what any of the questions on the sheet had to do with much of anything. The question sheet was part of Karl's latest round of procedural changes. He claimed all of the retrofits were made to appease constantly changing policy handed down from on high, but I was fairly certain the old coot just did it to torture us. Some kind of social experiment.

MACRO's latest policy change involved something called the 'Post Episode Debrief', or PED as Karl called it. He loved him some acronyms, and loved quizzing us on the acronyms he'd devised even more. He even had an acronym to help us remember the other acronyms. Enough is enough. How deep does it go?

These PED interviews were intended to assess the physical and mental state of a person following a growth episode and provide assistance when necessary. In actuality, they accomplished little more than waste the person's time and give me a headache. But did Karl listen to my requests to hand the PEDs off to a psychiatrist or someone else more qualified to make such assessments? Of course not! Because that would make sense, and we can't have any of that. Probably cost too much. Gotta keep an eye on that bottom line.

"Oh, fuck it. Tell ya what," I groaned, pushing away from my desk and leaning back in my chair. "Let's wrap this party up. I don't want to waste any more of your time than need be. Anything come up since your episode that's freaking you out or whatever?"

Cliff swiveled back and forth in his chair. "Nothing I can think of," he said. "I feel all fine,"

"Cool," I scribbled a few notes on the sheet and signing before passing it across to the film star. "If you could just sign in the places where it indicates, we'll be all good. I can send this off to my boss and we'll be out of your fur,"

Cliff nodded, taking the pen and starting to scan the document.

"I saw Day of Danger the other day," I murmured sheepishly. "Pretty thrilling. Lot of fun,"

"Oh, really?"

"That Ferris wheel scene... pretty intense,"

"Heh. Yeah," Cliff grinned ruefully as he signed off the document. "I'd sprained my ankle pretty good the day before, but managed to pull through,"

"Well, it looked good in the end," I nodded, my ears tingeing pink as I accepted back the signed document. "Alright. This is all in order, so you're good to go! Have a good afternoon,"

Cliff pushed back from the desk, getting to his feet.

"Thanks," he said. A grin flashed across his face. "Say, I've got a premiere coming up in a few weeks here, and it just so happens to be in Saaduuts. I'll have my agent get in touch and send you a couple tickets,"

I couldn't help but gawk a little. "Really? Wow. Thanks! My husband would love that,"

"Oh, no problem. We always have so many of those tickets. Besides, I figure I owe ya one after all I sorta helped to put you through,"

"Oh, just doing my job," I shrugged nonchalantly.

"Well, who says the job can never have perks," Cliff chuckled.

"What film is it?"

"It's called Landing the Big One. An handsome, strong, and silent fisherman grows to enormous size after an industrial fishing accident. Mayhem and hijinks ensue. Romantic subplot, too. I'm the 'big one' that the person's trying to land,"

Whoa, spoiler alert! Damn.

"An industrial fishing accident, eh?" I said, a sardonic grin starting to creep across my lips. "Take any sort of inspiration from real life or something?"

"A bit of a creative jolt to some writers, I suppose," the raccoon shrugged.

"I'm sure Gabe's, er, 'production company' would be happy to donate some footage to you for some B-roll or whatever if you asked," I laughed.

"I really don't_need anything _those folks might have caught on camera to see the light of day," Glenn rolled his eyes. "Did you have to do one of these things with him?"

"Yep. Got some swag from him, too, now that I think about it," I said, choosing not to mention the whole don't-give-public-employees-gifts-over-$10 thing. The DVD probably wasn't worth that much, anyway.

Glenn arched his brow as I pulled out a DVD case. On the cover was an enormous naked Gabe, striking a rather preposterous pose, the Saaduuts Needle clenched between his teeth. The title Attack of the 5000000-Foot Stallion in bright yellow letters was splashed across the top of the cover image.

"Seems like a bit of an exaggeration if you ask me," Glenn laughed.

"Tell me about it," I shook my head, tossing the disc back onto one of the stacks of paper on my desk. "Needless to say, it will probably go unwatched,"

"Well, here's hoping my film's at least a little better," the raccoon chuckled.

"I'll be the judge of that," I teased. "Let's get you out of here so you can enjoy your weekend,"

Grinning ear to ear, I escorted Cliff all the way to the front door of the offices. Damn. Free film premiere tickets. Wish I got awesome free swag from all the other ex-giants I handled.

Back in my office, I flopped down in my chair and checked my schedule. All warm fuzzies vanished instantly: seven more PED appointments stood between me and sweet, sweet freedom for the weekend. I slammed my head onto the table. Time to pop an aspirin or seventy.

A knock at the door. Not moving, I mumbled something noncommittal and it swung open. Morgan poked her head around the corner of the door.

"Sup?" I grunted, barely moving my head.

"There's a situation in Fitzrovia, up near the locks," Cameron said. "Rather large hawkess. Dispatching is out for the weekend, so I thought I'd pass the news along myself,"

"Is she... being a fucking bitch about it?" I groaned, slowly sitting back up.

Just fucking peachy. Now my commute was going to be a pain in the tail, too. Cherry on the fucking Fuck-You-Roger cake, that was.

"I don't think so," Morgan replied, arching her brow at my rather colorful choice in descriptors. "Reports I'm getting say she's mostly just embarrassed about the whole situation. Outgrew a board meeting or something like that, I'm told,"

"Well, go get one of the greenhorns to take care of it. Brookings or someone. Shit knows they need the practice. Now's their time to shine. Or whatever," I declared, slamming my head back onto the surface of the table with an air of finality. "Give 'em a pep talk, smack 'em on the ass, and send 'em on their way. Okay, maybe not the ass-smacking bit; we don't need any sexual harassment suits or whatnot,"

"Sure thing,"

"Great. Oh, and if my next PED is waiting out in the hall, tell her to wait five and then show herself in, please. Thanks a million,"

The door clicked shut and I heaved a sigh. Maybe I'd need at least seventy-two Aspirin now. Yeah, sounded about right.

*****

Morgan looked quite pretty in the soft glow of the candle sitting in the neck of a green glass wine bottle on the small table. Beautiful, even. The light leant a warm glow to her fur and glinted off the small clear stones set in her bracelet.

"This is a really nice place," I said through a forkful of pasta.

"Well, I figured I might as well do something with the salary that comes with my new position. Gotta celebrate somehow, I suppose," Morgan shrugged.

"I'm so happy you got that, by the way," I said, congratulating her for probably the hundredth time that day alone.

Morgan had recently taken a position at the head of the Research and Development section of MACRO. Though she hadn't been there long, by all accounts she was something of a rising star.

"Besides. Seeing as you're still pretty much the new dragon in town, Tal, I figured it was my duty to show you the places worth going," the marten smiled, sipping her wine.

"So far, so good. Then again, I'm not exactly the most discerning of folks, I suppose. Not that much to compare it with, I guess, given my experience. Under my, ah, 'host's' bed wasn't exactly a happening place,"

The candle guttered and winked out as Morgan laughed softly.

"Oh, damn," she said.

"And there goes the atmosphere," I tsked, a smile on my lips.

"I bet they have some sort of elite candle-lighting squad around here somewhere," Morgan replied, checking over her shoulder for a waiter to flag down. "Fuck knows they ought to, given the prices for the damn food,"

"No need," I grinned mischievously.

Leaning forward, I cupped my hand around the candle and inhaled deeply. I could feel my throat start to warm, emitting a subtle glow. Puckering my lips, I exhaled softly, a small gout of flame reigniting the wick.

"You can breathe fire?" Morgan blinked. "Well, I guess I shouldn't be all that surprised,"

"I'm a fire-drake," I grinned. "Not all of us can do that," I added with a hint of pride.

"Just make sure you don't kidnap any princesses or whatever, I guess," Morgan said.

"Oh, I could kidnap you if you liked," I replied, trying to make a suave expression.

"What?"

"Er, never mind that," I mumbled hastily. "Came out wrong,"

"Well, this has been a lot of fun, but it's getting a little late. Probably ought to get home eventually--work obligations tomorrow and all that," Morgan sighed, checking her watch.

"You could come over to my place if you liked," I blurted, cringing inwardly at the note of desperation in my voice. "I mean, if you're interested or whatever..."

Morgan's face flickered between a dozen or so expressions, settling finally on apologetic regret. "I'm sorry, but I don't know if that's... really a good idea," she mumbled, flagging down the waiter for the check.

"Were you not having fun?" I asked. "I'm sorry. I have been and I thought you were too. I thought--"

"--It isn't that or anything," the marten interjected hastily. "I just... I dunno, I just think it might not be a good idea to get more... involved. Because of work and all that, you know?"

"So this is just a 'friends thing'?" I asked, my throat glowing dully in embarrassment. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to be so forward,"

Well, shit. There I'd been thinking that I could hit things off with Morgan. Guess that was being beaten into the ground.

"I just want you to be able to meet more people!" Morgan gestured broadly. "You know, branch out and all that. It's not that I think you're bad or anything, not at all. I just... I'm not good with workplace relationships or whatever, I guess. Maybe you should get a gym membership or something. Meet folks that way. Lots of pretty girls there, I'm sure,"

"Gym membership?" I asked, frowning in confusion.

"Yeah, maybe that would work out!" Morgan replied haltingly, starting to push back from the table. "Look, I, er, this has been fun and all, but I need to, er, get going," she said, grabbing her purse, hanging over the back of her chair.

Figuring that it would probably be futile to ask whether she planned on staying for dessert, I nodded glumly, folding my hands over the napkin in my lap. Morgan hesitated another moment or two, shifting from one foot to another, before nodding one final time and hurrying off towards the door.

As if on cue, the waiter glided by, depositing the black check folder on the table. I heaved a sigh. Great. I even got to take care of the check. Topped the evening off just right.

Deciding not to take the bus or a taxi, I trudged up the hill from the city center to my brownstone apartment building on Pill Hill. What the neighborhood lacked in charm, it made up for in cheap rents and sheer number of hospitals. Seriously, you couldn't throw a rock without hitting a rock-injury-recovery ward. Maybe I could land a cute doctor or nurse. But after that dinner, I wasn't feeling all that optimistic about my prospects.

The key stuck in the lock again. Jiggling the knob until it finally gave, I let myself into the darkened apartment. I shivered, almost not wanting to hang up my coat. The heat was busted again. Shit. I'd talked about this with the landlord at least twice this week. If this was supposedly the coldest winter in recent memory, that fellow for one didn't seem to give a damn.

At least I didn't have to take the blame for turning Morgan into a marten-cicle by bringing her back here, I groaned inwardly as I flopped down on the edge of the bed. Silver lining right there.

Sitting there in the darkened room, I felt a wave of remorse pass over me. Suddenly, I was crying, great hot tears sizzling against the bedspread. I'd fucked up big-time. Why did I push Morgan like that? I must have, to have her react that way. The last thing I wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable, but I'd still managed to pull that off with flying colors.

Slumping back, I sprawled out on the bed as I kicked off my shoes. I wanted to fit in so badly, but it felt as if every time I tried, everything backfired. I worked so hard, but it felt like I would never fit in, no matter how I tried.

*****

As predicted, the hawkess situation in Fitzrovia meant a terrible traffic snarl as I tried to make my way to Bayview Medical Center to visit Reynard. Okay, that was definitely going on Brookings' post-op review the next day. It couldn't have been that difficult to get her oversized tailfeathers off the main grid.

Rey had been transferred from the ICU to the inpatient rehabilitative therapy ward in order to work on the physical and mental aftereffects of his coma. In a way, it was more frustrating than when he had been unconscious, barely clinging to life. I'm not certain what I should have expected, but knowing that my husband might never fully recover was torture. I could barely stand it myself; fuck only knew what he was going through.

Nevertheless, I stayed positive for him, visiting him as frequently as my hellacious work schedule and his busy therapy routine would allow. The doctors seemed optimistic about his prospects, but I wasn't sure whether or not that was just an act to keep us both appeased.

I missed Rey. I still felt terribly lonely at home, lying in bed and staring out the rain-washed window without hearing the reassuring rhythm of Reynard's breathing next to me. No matter how much strength and determination my job demanded of me, I couldn't seem to muster that same resolve once I walked through my apartment door and hung up my jacket.

The waiting area of the therapy ward was less busy than usual and Reynard's nurse came out to fetch me in a record-breaking fifteen minutes.

"Dr. Wesson would like to have a word with you first, if you don't mind," the short malamute said, holding the door open for me.

"Oh, really?" I asked. "Nothing bad, I hope?"

"He's in his office over here. Should only take a minute or so, no worries," the nurse replied. "I'll let Reynard know you're here,"

I nodded my thanks as the malamute bustled off. Pushing through the door indicated by the nurse, I entered Dr. Wesson's office. The doctor, a rather attractive horned owl in a crisp white coat, smiled and stood up to greet me as I approached the desk.

"Good to see you, Roger," she said, shaking my hand. "Get over here okay?"

"Well, if you ignore the fifty-foot hawkess backing traffic halfway to hell, it was a great trip," I snorted. "Is there something I need to know about Rey?"

Dr. Wesson's smile broadened. "You know, this is always news I love giving. Reynard has been progressing very well in his therapy. He's a real fighter, that one. Hard worker.

"I had a discussion with the rest of Rey's team regarding his progress, and we've come to an agreement that he's ready to go home. There's still a lot of work to do, of course. But I know he wants to be home and I'm sure you want him home, too.

"We've managed to get to a point where I feel comfortable reducing him to a few outpatient sessions a week. He is going to need some help from you, and a lot of support, of course. But the outlook is positive,"

I was so shocked that I had to sit down in one of Dr. Wesson's plushy armchairs. My eyes damp, I couldn't stop smiling.

"Oh, shit. Gods. Thank you so much," I breathed, scarcely able to believe the good news. "Can I see Rey?"

"Of course," Dr. Wesson smiled.

I couldn't get into Reynard's room quickly enough. My husband sat in a comfortable chair, staring out his window. He turned to look at me as I burst through the door, shouting in excitement.

"Oh, Rey!" I sobbed. "I'm so happy for you! This is... this is so good! You've been working so hard. It's so good to see things are starting to turn out. Oh, shit. Rey, I love you so much,"

"You seem almost happier than me about all this," Reynard chuckled softly.

The arctic fox stood up laboriously, leaning on his cane as he crossed towards the bed where I had sat down. I could almost cry just watching him. Well, I already was sort of crying, to be fair. But it was incredible to see Reynard, who could scarcely take a step more than a month ago, walking under his own power.

Flopping down next to me, Reynard kissed me on the cheek as he propped his cane against the headboard. His lips fumbled against my fur.

"I wouldn't have been able to do this without you," he murmured in my ear. "You're my rock. And I've missed you so much. This has all been for you,"

"I've missed you so much," I kissed Reynard back, fingers digging into his fur.

"Hopefully you haven't been having too much fun without me," Rey chuckled. "Tons of boys every night, you dirty fox,"

"Not really," I laughed nervously, a pang of guilt lancing through me.

"Want anything to drink?" Reynard asked. "The food here is... special. But at least I get a kettle,"

"A bit of tea sounds good, thanks," I smiled, relieved about change of topic.

Refusing my offer to help, Reynard put the kettle on the hot plate, pulling a pair of tea bags out of a drawer and dropping them into two stoneware mugs stamped with the Bayview Medical Center logo.

"Doc said they're planning on helping me move out next Friday," the arctic fox smiled as the water came to a boil. "Hope that gives you enough time to get everything ready for my grand return,"

"I'll have to hurry to get the locks changed, then," I laughed, accepting the warm mug of tea from Reynard. I took a sip of the fragrant brew.

"Now that I've been less busy, I've been trying to catch up on everything that happened since... well, you know, the accident," Reynard said, clumsily running his fingers through my hair. "Sorry," he added as he accidentally jerked my head sideways.

"Not to worry," I murmured.

I'd become used to that sort of hiccup. Poor Rey's finer motor skills had taken something of a hit, though he was working on it.

"Seems like you were quite the active one down in San Javier after I, ah, checked out," Reynard grinned crookedly. "My little hero. Or my fucking gigantic hero, I suppose,"

"I suppose," I replied noncommittally, turning away.

The events Reynard dredged up were not counted amongst the most shining in my life, as far as I viewed things. If I could just forget that day, all would be fine with me.

"I saw the news footage," Reynard murmured, resting his mug of tea on his knee. "Seems like you had quite the impact on San Javier. Apparently, they had to turn one of your palm-prints into a water feature or pond or whatever because they couldn't really do much with the indentation in the ground,"

"Mmf," I grunted, flushing red and studying my tea intently.

"But, I gotta admit, you looked pretty cute in those bitty little black compression shorts," the arctic fox giggled, cuffing me on the cheek, probably a little more roughly than he'd intended.

"Look, it wasn't that big of a deal," I grunted, starting to get heated at my husband's persistence.

"Not that big of a deal? Really?" Reynard's brow furrowed in confusion. "Roger, you enlarged yourself to the size of a fucking skyscraper, and then proceeded to get into a knock-down, drag-out brawl with an equally enormous Todd in the center of a major metropolitan area. That qualifies in my book as a 'big deal'. You had a huge impact on San Javier. In every sense of the term. I sup--"

"--Look, can we talk about something else?" I snapped angrily. "It--that whole thing wasn't something I'm terribly proud of,"

"But you did a good job!" Reynard protested gently. "You stopped Todd for good. You saved countless lives,"

"I guess. But..."

"But what?"

"I dunno. I just don't like killing and all that. Really, can we find something else to talk about?"

"Of course. I just didn't know you had that in you,"

I hesitated, fumbling with my mug. "I didn't, either. I've done a lot of things of which I didn't think myself capable lately,"

"If saving the fucking world is the result, maybe you ought to try and do things of which you didn't think yourself capable more often," Reynard smiled.

"I... I dunno about that," I swallowed. I couldn't lie anymore. Something had been weighing on me from the moment I'd walked in the door to the hospital, and it was time to come clean. "Rey... there's... well, there's something I need to tell you,"

"Shoot," the arctic fox nodded, smiling.

"Well... I've done other things that I didn't believe I could do, too," I mumbled wretchedly. "I... when you were... gone... I was so lonely without you... I... oh, fuck Rey. I slept with someone else. I cheated," My voice was barely a whisper, trailing away into nothingness.

Reynard nodded again, more slowly than before.

"I regret it so much," I pressed. "I was sad and lonely. I thought that would bring me some sort of comfort, but it's just made me feel fucked up inside. It's over, I promise you. I made a mistake. I was in the wrong, and it won't happen again. You mean too much to me for me to throw that all away,"

Reynard hesitated a few moments, and then rubbed my knee. "I'm glad you could come out and tell me that. Thanks for being honest with me. It means a lot,"

I was surprised by the gentleness in the arctic fox's voice. "I love you so much," I sniffled, resting my head on Reynard's shoulder.

I'd almost forgotten what it felt like, just sitting next to Reynard. I couldn't wait for him to come home. But I had something to take care of first.

*****

"Can I take that for you?" I asked, pushing back from the kitchen table and clearing away my place, reaching for Mr. Crane's plate.

"Thanks, Ciaran," the wolverine smiled, passing the plate over to me. "I can take care of the dishes today, it's no trouble at all,"

"I've got it, don't worry, Mr. Crane!" I replied hastily, pulling the bottle of dish detergent from under the sink.

"You're really a great help around here, you know," Mr. Crane replied. He'd given up on me calling him Ed a little while ago. It just felt so awkward to me, for whatever reason. "I really appreciate it,"

"It's the least I can do. You didn't need to take me in like this, but you did," I said as the sink started to fill with hot soapy water.

"You're a good guy, Ciaran," Ed chuckled, ruffling my hair. "It's good to have someone else in the house again,"

Ed's face fell a little as he finished his sentence. He tried to conceal it, but I noticed the momentary flicker of sadness that flitted across his face. Crossing over to the living area, the wolverine sat down heavily on the couch.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

I knew he missed Tabitha, to say nothing of his wife. I would be lying if I said I didn't miss the big ol' ferretess too. She had scared me, but there had probably always been a small element of that in our relationship, I supposed. I was pocket-sized to her, for cripes sake! She'd always been so gentle and kind with me. But I'd seen a different side of her at that compound in the mountains. She had been so close to killing me, and that terrified me.

Yet I knew that despite all of that fear, I loved her, and I still held out hope that we could move past all of that if only we could talk through things. But that was not to be, it seemed. Ever since Tabitha returned to town, she hardly ever left her home. I tried to visit once or twice, but she never answered my the doorbell. The room was dark. Tabitha shut herself away from everything and everyone. She had demons, I knew it, and she couldn't fight them all by herself.

As if Tabitha's self-imposed exile weren't enough, her return to Saaduuts was followed quickly by a steady trickle of people who seemed none to pleased with the ferretess' presence in the city. They identified themselves as the friends and relatives of the victims of Tabitha's destructive rampage. Before too long, a small camp was established on her front lawn, replete with signs demanding her immediate arrest and punishment for her crimes.

Local law enforcement was at a crossroads, to say the very least. You couldn't wipe a town off the face of the map and walk away scot-free. But how do you put a nine-story giantess behind bars? Tabitha could sit on the county penitentiary like a milk crate if the mood struck her.

In the end, it was decided to put her under house arrest. What else could they do? So a patrol car joined the party on Tabitha's front doorstep. Not that the police presence was really necessary. The cop probably devoted more energy to quelling the occasional unruly protestor than to preventing the giantess from leaving. Honestly, my biggest concern at present was whether or not she had any food left to eat.

"I'm thinking about going to check on Tab tomorrow," Ed sighed, resting his hand on his cheek.

"Oh... I don't know if you want to do that again," I replied haltingly in hushed tones.

Ed had made the attempt to visit Tabitha once or twice before, but couldn't even reach the doorway. The protesters had made damn sure of that, blocking him from getting close, shouting obscenities after him as he left. They had every right to be upset about Tabitha's crimes, but that didn't excuse their behavior towards Ed.

"They can't stop me from visiting my godsdamned daughter," wolverine shouted, his voice breaking. He pounded his fist on the arm of the couch in frustration.

"Let's talk to Roger," I suggested gently. "I'm sure he can help us out. Get you a chance to visit Tab,"

Roger acted as something of a liaison between the prosecution and MACRO's own legal team, which served as Tabitha's legal support through the whole ordeal. If anyone could get a surefire path to the door, it would be him. He'd really been a tremendous help the past while in all of Tabitha's affairs, stepping up way beyond the call. I'd even heard he was working to get her a therapist to talk with. Maybe that would help her out. I could only hope. That was all I could do of late, really. Hope.

*****

Andy was wearing hardly anything at all when he answered my tentative knock at the door. Pretty much par for the course, I supposed. I probably shouldn't have been all that shocked. He really did_have an incredible figure: slim like an Olympic sprinter and fucking _cut. I couldn't help but stare at him as he leaned casually against the doorframe in his grey boxer-briefs, chewing on his lip as he eyed me.

"I was wondering if you'd show up tonight," the jackal-god grinned, ushering me through the door and pulling off my coat. "Been a few days,"

"I need to talk with you about something," I stammered flatly.

I was on a mission. I had to get in, get out. A clean cut.

"All I want to talk about is how fucking horny I am right now," Andy replied, already starting to unbutton my shirt. He really was all business when it came to pleasure.

No, Roger. Don't get distracted now. You can't blow this now. I moved a hand to block Andy's progress in undressing me, but he swatted it away. Pulling me against him, the jackal busied himself with my trousers.

"Really, Andy... I don't think this is a good idea right now," I protested, but Andy was having none of that.

My trousers joined the rapidly growing pile of clothes on the floor of the entryway to his apartment. Hefting me up, Andy started towards his bedroom, my legs wrapped around his hips. All of my protestations fell on deaf ears. Andy shut me up with a kiss on the lips. I tried biting him, to get him to shut up, but he just took that as a playful come-on or something.

Andy threw me onto the bed, pressing me onto my back.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I snapped as Andy pulled off my boxers with his teeth.

I tried to sit up and slide away from the persistent jackal-god, but he placed a hand on my chest, pushing me back down.

"You're a Chatty Cathy today, aren't you?" he snorted. "If that's your idea of foreplay, just... just calm that down a bit, dude,"

I had to admit Andy certainly had me beat in that regard. Though he did have a pretty sizeable advantage in the creativity category. Quite literally, in some instances. Only a few weeks ago, I'd been invited down to a warehouse only to find an enormous Andy filling the bulk of it. Clambering through that expansive Andy Wonderland had been quite memorable. And just last weekend, a rather small Andy had given pole-dancing a whole new meaning. But I couldn't waste my time thinking about any of that right then.

"Just have some fun, Rodge. Unwind. I'm sure you've had a hell of a week," a grin spread across Andy's face. "Ah, there we go,"

My body had betrayed me. Oh, come fucking on.

"But really, Andy. I need to--" my sentence ended in a protracted moan as Andy dragged his tongue slowly along my length.

"Attaboy," the jackal grinned, rubbing my thigh.

"Oh, c'mon!" I groaned. My eyes fluttered shut as I felt Andy's warm lips close around me.

My body tensed, responding to his caress. Andy knew exactly which buttons to push and when. I was in the palm of his hand, though maybe not literally that time around. I felt completely and utterly powerless, and I needed to do something about that.

"You haven't let me put in a single word," I half whispered, half moaned. My breathing was growing ragged. "You--let me--I really want to--to talk about--oh fucking shit,"

My scattered diatribe came to a halt as I erupted, bucking violently. I fell back, awash in waves of pleasure tinged with guilt and regret. Andy clambered on top of me, wiping his mouth on his forearm.

"Now. You were saying?" he murmured flopping onto his side next to me and propping his head up with his hand.

I burst into tears. Andy made a strange cooing sound, reaching out to caress my cheek with his curled fingers. Still sobbing, I swatted his hand away.

"I'm a miserable, awful fuck-up," I sobbed. "I have no self-control,"

"Hey, hey, where is all this coming from?" Andy sat up, his brow furrowing with the hint of a frown. He leaned over, making to kiss me, but I shrank away.

"This is over," I said haltingly, sitting up and facing him. "We're through. Now that Reynard is back, I can't be screwing around with you. I shouldn't have done this in the first place. It was a mistake, especially tonight. I shouldn't be here still,"

"Oh, _that's_how you're going to treat me, after all I've done for you?" there was no hint about the frown anymore. "You really need to check your attitude,"

"I'm sorry, Andy. I had some fun. I did. But it's through now. Rey and I are going to turn over a new leaf. It's a fresh start, and that fresh start doesn't include you," I said, growing in self-confidence as I continued.

By then, I was standing on the bed, glaring down at the seated Andy with hands on my hips. Andy stared back at me, taken aback.

"Dude, calm it the fuck down for a moment," Andy started, his tone a little more measured than earlier. "Let's just have a conversation about--"

"Nothing to talk about," I sniffed.

Ignoring Andy, I hopped off the bed, striding down the hall and towards the entryway. The jackal-god followed after me, folding his arms across his bare chest as I gathered my clothing.

"Aw, c'mon," Andy pouted, trying a new tactic. "I'm not asking to be your main squeeze. Just your... little deity on the side. Or big. I can do that too,"

"No. And I mean no. I can't go behind Rey's back like this anymore. He deserves better," I said, buttoning up my coat. "Goodbye,"

"Oh, you'll be back," Andy smirked as I pulled open the door. "I can guarantee it,"

I didn't dignify Andy with a response. I didn't need to. My answer was final. I left the Bodley Building for what I had determined would be the last time. It was time to close that chapter of my life and move onward. No turning back.

*****

"Well, it's my professional opinion that this building ain't going anywhere any time soon," I grumbled loudly, leaning forward and pounding my forehead against the dashboard.

"Easy there, fox," Guillam reached over to rub my shoulder. "I just cleaned the car. Can't go ruining it,"

I groaned dramatically but acquiesced, opting instead to adjust my seat back a couple of clicks in order to stretch out my legs. Glaring angrily through the windscreen at the mostly deserted street in front of us, I folded my arms across my chest.

"Seriously. Why the fuck are we stuck with this surveillance gig?" I snapped. "This is way below our pay grade. Not even our fucking section. We're being punished, that's the long and short of it,"

"Only a couple more weeks, I'm sure," Guillam sighed in reply. He'd learned some time ago not to disagree with me on this, my most favorite of rants. "We'll get back to the usual grind soon enough. Think of this as a work vacation. A chance to cool your heels a bit and take it easy. You're can really be a workaholic, you know. Can't be very good for your health, can it? You're going grey already, see?" the cross fox teased, poking at my rumpled hair.

"My hair's silver to begin with," I groused good-naturedly, swatting his hand away as I chuckled.

"I'll be on wrinkle watch," Guillam declared.

"Maybe you could convince Schwarz to dispatch a surveillance team to take care of that for you," I rolled my eyes.

We sat in silence for a while, staring out at the street. Nothing happened. I shifted in the increasingly uncomfortable seat, heaving a sigh. Why was Schwarz sticking us with this bullshit? Guillam and I were fucking heroes. We deserved a promotion and maybe even a godsdamned parade. But instead, Schwarz shuffled us off to surveillance intel and some deserted street in the middle of West Saaduuts, possibly the most boring neighborhood in the entire fucking city. About the biggest source of danger on the entire street was probably the nasty food at the dingy old Nippon restaurant on the corner.

A light mist began to fall, dampening the tarmac and concrete. At least now there stood a chance of washing away the vague scent of fish that lingered over the area for some inexplicable reason.

I perked up as I caught a flurry movement in the corner of my eye. Jerking to full attention, my eyes snapped in the direction of the movement.

"Fucking old folks," I grumbled, slumping back in my seat and shooting the ancient squirrel shuffling in front of the car who had caused my momentary distress a dirty look. "Shouldn't be let out of their homes. Ever,"

"A bit extreme, don't you think?" Guillam snorted.

"At least I'm being attentive. You didn't even notice the old geezer," I shot back, punching the cross fox in the shoulder.

"Ow! Hey! That's my bad shoulder!" Guillam yelped softly, massaging his 'injury'.

"Oops! Shit, didn't mean to do that," I apologized. "I always forget about that. Sorry, bro,"

"Hey, you came out of the whole Tabitha incident pretty goddamn lucky,"

"Er, not exactly unscathed," I corrected, pointing at the thin scar that traced over my muzzle and across my right cheek.

"What are you whining about? Scars like that are fucking sexy! All the girls will be all over you. Me, I have to go around baring my shoulder if I want anyone to see my, ah, battle scars,"

"Victorian society is scandalized," I laughed.

"Tell you what, I need some coffee. Want anything? Might calm your nerves in case another terrifying senior citizen comes along,"

"Oh, fuck off. But I'll have a cappuccino,"

"Don't go anywhere," Guillam said as he opened the door and stepped out into the drizzle.

I watched Guillam's receding figure as he walked off towards the small café at the end of the street, his collar turned up against the damp chill, tail swishing back and forth. My attention redirected toward the stretch of buildings in front of me, mostly small mom-and-pop places with apartments over the ground level. A florist, a used bookstore, and an old-fashioned divey pub, with a hardware store rounding out the block. Not much to write home about.

And yet... who was this newcomer? Walking down the street with a swiftness that belied his hefty frame was a panther dressed in a long black coat and matching cap. He glanced furtively over his shoulder every few moments. The panther came to a stop in front of the pub, casting one final glance about the street before ducking through the heavy wooden door.

Any residual boredom vanished in an instant. Surveillance might not have been my forte, but I knew a shifty figure when I saw one, and shifty figures demanded follow-up. Pulling my coat around myself, I slipped out of the car. Time to do some _real_work. I could do with a pint, anyway.