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Chapter 2 - Old Wounds

"You look like you've seen a ghost, Simon."

"What the hell is this...?" I said, swallowing as I got onto my knees in the dusty old building. I stared at someone I had never expected to ever see again. A person I tried to not think about.

A dead person.

Avery stood there with that warm smile he always had on his face, reaching up and fixing his cap. The oversized cap he had found on the street and wore it all the time. When he had been so little it basically covered his eyes. Now he was -- had grown into it some. But he was dead. I had seen his corpse. I had seen his missing eye.

"No, this ain't real." I said, leaning forward on my palms and staring at Avery. "This isn't happening."

"Huh?" Avery tilted his head to the side and walked over to me. I recoiled and backed up, my tail crushed between me and the wall as I wanted to maintain the space between this... thing and myself. The recoil got a frown from the painful memory of my past. "Simon... you aren't happy to see me?"

For a moment my emotions cleared, and I thought this rationally -- there was no way this was real. Even if, say, Avery had somehow survived being tortured to death, he would have been older like me... but the Avery in front of me was still the small pup from when we were kids. He hadn't aged a day. He was even wearing the outfit I remembered he wore the last time we spoke.

"I hit my head, this isn't real. You're not real." I held my head in my hands, trembling in fear. Why was this happening? Avery was gone. Long gone. Because of me. Why was he here?!

I blinked my eyes and looked down as droplets fell from them. I was crying. By God I was crying. I hadn't cried over Avery in years. I trembled as my emotions started to bubble up to the surface. I could feel it pushing against my skin, my fur, trying to break out of my chest like a runaway train. I screamed and jumped up to my feet, snarling in anger.

"YOU AREN'T REAL!"

And I ran again. I leaped through the window and onto the fire escape, bounding from one side of the alley to the next and climbing onto the roof, running at the breakneck speed. I didn't look behind me. I couldn't. If he was there, I would go insane. No, I needed to get away.

I pushed myself as hard as I could, wiping my eyes a few times, feeling scared all the while I dashed across the city. Did I need to see a doctor? Did I hit my head? I was rubbing my hand over my skull but didn't feel any injuries. I don't remember being hurt too badly, but then it's said that insanity came for people randomly.

By the time I got to my destination, the sun had set and the cooler air was covering the city. I was walking slowly now, not anxious to go inside but I knew I needed to eat something and get some sleep.

What if he comes to me in my sleep?

He won't. He isn't real. I have complete control over myself. I had managed to push these dark memories away before. I could do it again. I just needed to remember that I was in control of everything happening around me.

The tenement building where I lived was not the newest, or the nicest, but it was home. Nothing fancy, the same kind as all the others, but I could already smell the familiarity of it all and it helped settle my soul a bit. I looked around one last time for that... ghost, before heading inside.

Like usual, my senses were assaulted by sounds and smells, the various families going about their evenings, supper and whatnot. I could smell the familiar scent of fires roaring and food that made my stomach growl in need. I took the stairs two at a time, going up to the top floor of the building and all the way down the hall to a dead end. I reached up and grabbed the small drawstring for the ladder to the attic and down it slid. I could hear a conversation already above me.

I climbed into the attic and turned around, pulling the ladder closed and locking it with the latch.

"Welcome home, Simon," a tired-sounding voice came from the kitchen to the far side of the warren-like floor that was the attic. It belonged to a white fox with black ears and violet eyes.

Ruttiger. He was dressed in his usual white button up shirt and violet vest with slacks. He had his headfur a little longer than me and tied them together behind his head. He always looked a little weary, but he was never surprised about anything.

He stirred a pot of stew, adding in some vegetables and some herbs before picking up the ladle and stirring the menagerie of flavors together. "You were almost too late for dinner. Fiz would've eaten your portion."

"Is true," the voice above us said. I looked up and saw a fellow black fox sitting in the steeped window, one leg on the sill and his golden eyes turned to the outside. His "perch" as he liked to call it.

Fizgerald. One of the more odd characters I've met in my time in New York. But he was a good guy... mostly.

"You do that and I'll tell Rut where you're hiding those chocolates from him," I said with a wry grin, pulling out the chair to the table and flopping down into it, elbows resting on top tiredly.

"Lies. Simon not know." The black fox grinned and dropped down to the floor of the attic gracefully. In his left hand was a knife... his_knife. A knife I was told to never touch. I watched, still in awe at his skill, as Fiz twirled the old blade between his fingers and then into the sheath inside his vest. I knew he had a few more but that was _his knife.

"Simon did let on that you are hiding candy from me again, Fiz," Rut said with a bit of mock anger, pretending to glare at his twin.

They were brothers. Fox twins from... honestly, I don't know where they were from. I know they weren't from New York City, but they had a colorful life. Rut didn't share much and Fiz always wove stories about their lives, so I wasn't sure if they were pirates hiding from Spain or if they were farmers down on their luck.

I'd known them for years, ever since Fiz had almost ruined my life in less than a week of being in this country.

---

_I was so hungry. It has been two days since I last ate. The Captain, ever so the generous bastard, had said if we waited a few days while the cargo was processed he'd pay us all a little extra. I had been voted down and told to wait, so I was left to wander New York City for a week while I waited to get paid. _

I had all but a few foreign coins on me and the clothes on my back. I hadn't been sure what to expect of New York City once I got off the ship and all at once it felt the same and different. I had missed the smells and sounds of the city; the way people moved and talked, the scent of fire and coal, food and decay.

_Up until I fled London, I had never even seen so much as another town, let alone one as big as New York. For a moment, I felt almost dizzy with the tall buildings, but it all came back to me the moment I got onto one of the roofs and enjoyed the view. I may not be small enough to fit down a chimney anymore but after almost two years on that blasted boat I had learned to climb rigging while in a storm. I guess I was just naturally good at climbing things. _

The next few days were me being very confused, yet not. I was keenly aware that everyone spoke English to varying degrees, but my own special variety sometimes got a pause out of folk. I had been called "Your Majesty" more than once, and "Milord," and all kinds of other things. At first I didn't get it. To me they sounded funny, but when it hit me I felt so dumb. They could tell I was British -- and this was a former colony, or so Bensley had once taught me. I guess they didn't like us all that much even though it had been over a hundred years since we 'let' them win.

With my accent came a kind of treatment I had not expected. I was told to scram, move it, get out of the way, simply because I spoke funny. I had tried to be friendly, talk to some people, but no one really wanted much to do with me -- I think they thought I was trying to trick some food out of them... when in reality they were probably right, but also I was just trying to meet some friendly faces.

As such I wasn't really allowed to loiter for long in places, and I knew to keep on walking when I felt this funny sensation on the backs of my ears -- something Gi... a friend of mine had once told me about instinct. Gangs were a big part of New York I bet, and sticking it in a British fox was likely not that uncommon.

_My fortune actually stayed rather low. I was able to get some bread from a kind woman, but most people ignored me. They could sense I had nothing and these people were so desperate to cling to what little they had... I couldn't blame them. _

I was dozing one night on a bench near what I would now know as Central Park. A rough hand had grabbed me by the shoulder and shook me hard.

"Hey!" I shouted, trying to kick and pry myself away. "Lemme go! Who are you?!"

_"Stop squirming, brat!" the large canine said, holding me up by an arm. My heart sank when I saw a glinting badge on his chest. This was a police officer. _

"Since when is napping on a bench a crime?!" I shouted in fear, trying to grab my wrist and pull myself free, but he just grabbed and pinned the arm behind my back, causing me to wince loudly.

"It ain't," he said in my ear. I could feel his hot breath brush down along the side of my neck and cheek. It made me swallow and shiver, trying not to breathe in. "But stabbing someone? That's a crime. You're under arrest,"

_And that was how I ended up in jail. I had never been in one before, and I was upset I was in one now. I had always thought of myself as a good person, someone who stayed out of places like this, but here I was, in a large cell with a few other foxes. _

They seemed to split us up by species. Probably smart, racial problems were a lot more intense here the last I heard. Still, it didn't help that this place was built like a basement -- the sound of everyone talking, cursing, laughing, screaming, sobbing, etc was bouncing off the walls and giving me a headache. I had found a bench along the back wall and sat there, leaning forward with my hands cupped over my ears to block out the noise. I had my eyes closed and barely registered someone sitting down next to me.

I ignored them.

They tapped me on the shoulder.

I kept ignoring them.

They shook me by the shoulder.

I looked up and growled. "What?!" I said, ready to let my anger spill out about this whole mess. I blinked when I was nose to nose with a near reflection of myself. He was a black fox, but whereas I had that white mark over my eye, his fur was completely black. The difference was that his eyes were yellow, or gold depending on how you look at it and how bright the surrounding was, and the notch in his right ear. It looked like he had lost it in a fight or something by the way the old injury looked. He was wearing a buttoned-up shirt and trousers.

"Loud?" the other fox said with a disarming smile.

"...Yes, it's a bit loud in here," I responded.

"Tip ears back. Sound bounce. Here." He reached up and grabbed my ears, tipping them backwards for me to a position I didn't naturally hold them. If I flattened them it cut out too much noise, but this way... the sound did seem to dampen considerably. I blinked.

"T-thanks," I said with a sheepish little smile, focusing on keeping my ears back just like this stranger had told me. "Sorry I yelled at you."

"Is fine," the black fox waved a dismissive hand at me and leaned back. "Arrested for looking like me. Apologies."

It took me a moment to process what he had said. And I blinked again. "Wait. You're the one who did the stabbing?" I asked, slowly putting a few more inches between us.

_At that he just grinned at me and winked. "Fiz," he said, pointing to himself. "You?" _

"Simon," I said, swallowing and relaxing. "You aren't going to... you know, do it to me now, are you?"

"No." Fiz looked forward and out between the bars at the copper behind the small desk. "No knife."

_"...That doesn't make me feel terribly comfortable, you know." _

"No stab," Fiz said and looked back at me, leaning forward with an elbow resting on his hip and his chin in his hand. "No reason. Should be out soon. Rut will come. Rut always comes."

"You mean you have someone to help you make bail? You didn't kill whoever you stabbed, did you?"

"Rut says no kill. No kill. Only flesh wounds." He suddenly stood up, pointing through the bars, his ears both perked up like a rabbit.

"Rut!"

And like a bullet he was off and at the bars, gripping them and staring at a white fox with tired, violet eyes. He was dressed in black slacks and a button up shirt with a black vest edged in violet. Huh. He seemed to be a sharper dresser than this Fiz fellow.

This Rut guy saw his friend behind bars and approached. "You're lucky Marty was on duty today and was able to come find me. I'd've thought you were off doing... whatever it is you do when you go out at night."

The black fox flicked his tail happily and leaned his muzzle through the bars. "Rut is dependable!"

_"And made of money, I guess." He sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out a few crisp-looking bills and handing them to the officer. "Here you go, Jimmy. The usual." _

The copper tipped his hat at the white fox and took the money. "No problem, Mr Ruttiger. We knew your brother wasn't any kind of problem, but if he ends up in here..."

_"Right, he needs bail. I don't want to think what he'd do if he was ever in front of a judge." _

"Would win!"

Rut blinked for a few seconds. "What does... no, wait, nevermind. I don't want to know what that even means. Just stand back while Jimmy opens the door and we can go home."

"Rut?" the black fox said in a voice quieter than before.

Another dramatic sigh. "Yes, Fiz?"

"Him too." And to my surprise, I was pointed at. I stood up slowly and blinked.

I watched as Rut looked between me, then Fiz, then back at me. His tired expression slowly turned into one of dismay. "A black fox... who looks a lot like you. Is that why he's here? For crying out loud, what did you do, Fiz!?"

Fiz just smiled that toothy grin of his that made you want to smile back and punch him in the nose. The way this fox acted... there was something that wasn't right, but you also enjoyed being near him.

Rut shook his head and then shrugged. "Fine, fine. I'll bail your friend out too. Having someone else to keep an eye on you will be good for my heart."

"Wait," I said, holding my hands up as Rut fished out more money and handed it to the copper. "I'm not... you don't have to do any of this..."

"Friends!" Fiz said, putting his arm around me cheerily. "Is what friends do!"

Later I found out that Fiz took a liking to me because, when I had put it together that he had been the one who stabbed someone, I didn't run to tell the coppers. He had this weird sense of honor, and I think he also liked that we looked so alike.

That was how I met the fox twins, Fiz and Rut.

---

I lifted my head up from my stew bowl, having cleaned it entirely, and watched the two brothers talk. They used a kind of shorthand that was hard to follow. Rut had once told me it was why Fiz talked the way he did, choppy and incomplete; he was just used to keeping things short. Between the two of them they barely said whole words, let alone sentences. I was starting to pick up some of the patterns but a lot of what they said still eluded me when they got like this.

"You okay, Simon?" Rut finally said, wiping his muzzle with his thumb. "You've seemed out of it since you got home."

"True," Fiz said with his muzzle full of bread. "Like half-asleep."

"Yeah," I said, covering my muzzle with my own hand and a yawn. "It's just... been a long day. I should probably sleep."

"You have your work tomorrow for that shop, right? I'll make sure you have something for lunch ready to go when you get up." Rut must have seen me getting ready to politely protest because he scowled. "You need to eat. You run all over the city and you pay more than your fair share of the rent. You're getting food from me."

"Rut: one, Simon: zero," Fiz said, now eating a banana.

"Where did you get that?" Rut asked. Fiz responded by shrugging his shoulders and finishing it off in two bites.

Rut rolled his eyes and turned to me, taking my bowl and moving over to the small sink in the corner. "You'll feel better in the morning, Simon. Go get some rest. We'll be quiet. Won't. We. Fiz?"

"No fun. Not tired."

"Fiz!" Rut scowled.

"No noise. Simon sleep." Fiz had on his face that playful grin again and a wink at me. I couldn't help but smile back and got up from my chair.

My bedroom was in the corner. We had cut out our own little areas over the time we'd lived together. Once inside the sanctuary of my room, I got out of my clothes, sank into bed, and was out like the light.