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Hey guys! Here's part two. Enjoy!

Chapter Four: Second Chances

He found the correct section by memory alone, immediately taking notice that he was not the day's only visitor to the dead. Huddled in front of a gravestone was a young female fox, by the looks of things. He began to reconsider coming in here, but as he got closer to his destination, he was surprised to see the visitor, who could not have been much younger than himself, take notice of him and jump behind the gravestone in front of her. He pretended not to notice her as he came closer, stopping at the large, double-sized marble stone next to the obviously hidden visitor. He carefully allowed himself to slip into memories, while keeping part of his conscious mind focused on his surroundings, namely the young, obviously frightened vixen before him.

He was careful not to be lost in the flood of emotions connected to the usually very tightly closed-off section of his mind. The problem with his memories was that they were desperate to be let loose, to let their emotions take over him, to reduce him to something far more pitiful than the quietly sobbing creature before him. He had to close his eyes and regain control, and in the process, let out a sigh that betrayed all of his emotions to the outside world.

Finally, once he was under enough control to return to reality, he opened his eyes, and found himself sitting on his parent's grave, leaning with his back to the cool stone. The harness on his wings made this an incredibly uncomfortable position, but he felt as though there were other, more pressing matters at hand.

Running a hand through his hair, he said, "I know you're there. I'm sorry if I interrupted your time here. Now, if it's all right with you, I think I'll be going." As he stood up to leave, he felt a slight tug on the bottom of his shirt. Looking down, he followed the furred arm from the paw grasping his shirt to the shoulder, and then looked over the huddled, shaking young fur before him.

His eyes were immediately drawn to hers. Her eyes were an oddity, to be sure, but what caught and held his attention was something far less noticeable, swimming just beneath the surface... understanding, perhaps?

He suddenly felt a disturbingly familiar sensation in his mind. "Don't go," said the voice, louder and clearer than ever before, yet infinitely more gentle. Looking again into the vixen's pale eyes, he came to the realization that the voice in his mind was hers. Whoever she was, he could not help but sense that she needed someone.

No longer in complete control of his actions, he walked around to the other side of the grave, then sat down again, this time leaning on the back of his parent's grave marker. He didn't know what it was, but something told him that if he left now, if he left her alone, that he would lose his last chance at life. Whoever this girl was, something about her screamed a message of hope to him, and he would not dare to abandon that. "Who are you?" he asked. Her eyes dropped to the ground, as though the mere sound of his voice was frightening. He was considering whether or not to ask again when the rain began to fall.

It started as a gentle mist, and then built into a steady downpour. He didn't want to get absolutely soaked, but he knew that he couldn't leave her. They were lucky that the graves were placed underneath a large oak tree, so it took the rain time to reach them. Without thinking about the consequences, Tal began to take off his pullover, revealing the leather harness that restrained his wings. With the kind of ease that comes from years of experience, he unbuckled the straps securing the harness, and then slid it off of his wings and shoulders.

He held up the sweatshirt, and used his claws to cut two long lines in the back of the hoodie. He then pulled it back on, and carefully put his wings through the holes. He flexed muscles weak from years spent without use, extending his wings to their full, 15' span with a stretch and a groan. He allowed them to return to their relaxed position, then walked over to the vixen and flexed a wing over her, forming a kind of living umbrella. Tal kneeled down; extending a hand in what he hoped was interpreted as a sign of kindness, he waited to see whether she would accept his offer.

She slowly extended a shaky paw and placed it in his, then grasped it with an unexpected strength. He opened his mouth to speak, but then remembered her earlier reaction and thought better of it. It then occurred to him that if it was her thoughts that he was hearing, maybe it worked the other way around. He pictured his run down apartment building, then tried his best to send the image to her.

There was a moment where she did not respond, and he began to feel embarrassed for attempting such a thing. Then, she turned, looked him in the eye, and nodded her head shakily. He began to gently direct her out of the graveyard in the direction of his part of town, and they were soon out of sight. The only sign of their presence was the now forgotten harness, left lying in the shade of the willow.

* * * * *

By the time that they reached his building, Tal's hoodie was soaked through, and rain was dripping from the ends of his hair, and he was beginning to shiver badly. The nameless vixen, on the other hand, was only slightly more wet than she had been when they had left the graveyard.

They reached the door, then stood for a moment as Tal found his keys. He unlocked the door, then pushed it open with a shove. The door creaked open slowly, then was shoved yet again to speed its movement. He gestured that he wanted to get her inside first, and combined it with a thought that indicated the same. The message was apparently made reasonably clear, as she suddenly scrambled inside. He looked where she had just been in a state of confusion, then shrugged his shoulders, relaxed his now very cramped wing, and entered.

He led her to the door of his apartment, dug out another key, then opened the door and let her into a place that had never before seen a welcome visitor. The apartment was in a state of disarray, with tall piles of books stacked around an overstuffed leather chair. He gestured towards the chair, and then gave her a verbal tour of the place while he dried off and changed.

"The kitchen is to your right; there's not much there, but you're welcome to whatever you can find. The bathroom is down the hall, first door on your left. The door at the end of the hall leads to my room. I'd avoid it if I were you. I haven't cleaned in a while," he called, coming out of his room, now dressed in a pair of mesh shorts and a simple white tank top, carrying a towel in one hand and running another towel through his hair with the other.

He passed through the living room on his way to the kitchen, handing her the towel as he passed her, the vixen now seated comfortably in the chair. He then entered the kitchen and began digging through the cupboards. "You hungry?" he asked, attempting to find something remotely edible. Considering how thin she looked, he didn't think she could eat too much without getting sick, but he thought he should ask. Unfortunately, all he could find was a bag with two slices of bread, a nearly-empty jar of peanut butter, and a banana that was approaching the questionable end of ripe. Looking over the materials available, an idea quickly formed. Instead of vocalizing the offer, though, he attempted to send another picture through the link that had somehow formed between them. There was a moment of silence, then the thought was returned with a picture of an empty plate.

He took this as a yes, and began to assemble one of his specialties. "Would you mind coming into the kitchen? That way, I can keep an eye on you while I make this." He called, making sure that the stools he found last week at Goodwill were situated under the counter where they belonged. He confirmed this just as his strange guest shyly entered the kitchen.

He motioned to the stools, then returned to his creation. She had no sooner sat down than he cut the sandwich in half, handing one half to her on a frayed dishrag. Her eyes seemed to reflect thankfulness, yet there was something about her, something that made it painful to look into her eyes, something Tal couldn't stand to take his eyes off of....

Tal was jerked back to reality by the grumbling of his stomach. He pulled the other stool around to his side of the counter with his tail, sat down, and ate.

Chapter 5: Truths Revealed

After their meager lunch, Tal had gone back into his room to relax, as the young fur seemed to want some time to herself. To be honest, he was in need of some time as well. You see, for the first time since meeting the young vixen, the selfish part of Tal, the part that had been in control of his life until today, had begun to intrude on his thoughts. This made for a very confusing and entertaining argument.

"Who the hell is she, and why the hell did we just give her the last of our food!?!"

"I don't know who she is, and as far as the food goes...I don't know."

"Don't know?! DON'T KNOW?!? You'd better know, because we're not running a shelter for abandoned furs who don't have the courtesy to speak!"

"SHUT UP! I don't know a thing about her, that's true. But she's quiet, in a way that kind of hurts to recognize."

"What the hell are you rambling on about?"

"Don't you remember the first few months after Mom and Dad died? We wouldn't talk! We wouldn't eat! We were constant runaways, for God's sake!"

"Would you get to the point, please?"

"All I'm saying is, it's obvious that something happened to her. Something bad. I mean, like, OUR kind of bad!"

"...................................I see what you mean."

"Good! Then shut up, and leave me the hell alone!"

He had just finished this argument when a huge clap of thunder shook the windows of the apartment, frightening the vixen and causing her to fall from the windowsill and let out a yelp that left his ears ringing. She lay dazed on the floor for a brief moment, then ran into his room and jumped onto him, forcing the wind out of him and causing him to let out a groan of discomfort. She seemed to on his chest for a few seconds, as though she were having an argument much like his moments before. She slowly looked up at him, seeming to search his eyes for something, some clue as to his intentions. She suddenly sat up, straddling him with her paws on his chest, helping her keep her balance. He could feel the heat rising in his face, and did not doubt that his face and just turned a deep shade of purple. She just continued to stare at him, biting her lip in thought. Her eyes seemed to shimmer with the promise of tears, and she then surprised them both by saying, "M-my name's Onai, w-what's yours?"

Tal was shocked by this sudden burst of speech from the vixen, but he he quickly recovered, and managed to stammer out, "M-my n-names Tal." She gulped audibly, and said, "So, why'd you choose to go to..." her eyes grew dark, and he could think of only one place which would evoke such a reaction. "The graveyard?" he asked with newfound stability in his voice. She hurriedly answered, "Yes!" then turned from his gaze and tried her best to hold back tears. He hesitated slightly before stating, "I...I ran from school and I needed to clear my head..." She looked back at him, eyebrows raised slightly, "It's got something to do with this, doesn't it? She asked, gesturing to the scar through his right eye, looking into his eyes as though she could see his very soul within them.

This sudden understanding shocked him, and his voice dropped in volume as he admitted, "Y-yes..." She nodded knowingly at this, and swallowed audibly, her eyes not leaving his for a moment. He looked at Onai questioningly, then asked, "What about you? I mean, what I did isn't exactly normal." She sighed heavily, then looked back at him with her pupils shrunk to the point where they were barely visible. "Promise me something first: I want you to swear to God that you won't hurt me." She almost growled, fear clearly expressed in her voice. Concern spread across his face. "Of course. I swear to God that I won't hurt you." He said, meaning every word. Her breath suddenly shaking with the tears she had denied her eyes, she said, "You know that gravestone....the one I was at...the one with...with the rose? He nodded, and she rested her head on her hands, breathing heavily. She sighed and looked at him. "What happened to your mom?" she asked, surprising him more than a little. He sighed deeply and stammered out, "She, uh...she...she died." She gripped his hand in her paw, and said knowingly, "I know. It was in front of you, wasn't it?" He felt her presence in his mind, and fought it at first on instinct, then forced himself to let her in. Her eyes shone with tears long held captive, and a single drop rolled down the fur on her cheek. In response to this unaccustomed show of sympathy, he began to let out the pain that had been building since that night 4 years ago.

Wiping the tear way in an attempt to regain some semblance of composure, she said, "M-m-my mother... she..." Before he could help himself, he felt himself searching gently through her thoughts. "She died in front of you, too?" he asked, knowing the answer before she spoke. She breathed deeply, and her eyes had such pain within them that it seemed to radiate from her in waves. "Y-yes. She was stabbed to death when I was 8..." She could not continue further, her voice cracking with the strain of holding it all in. Operating purely on instinct, he wrapped his arms and wings around her, holding her gently. "Shhhhhhh...it...it's alright. You don't have to hold it in anymore," he whispered, feeling the tears come faster and harder. Her eyes grew to an impossible amount of white, and she squeezed his hand and whimpered out, "I had to kill my father to save my life. There's still blood on the knife. H-he killed her right in front of m-me. She l-looked right at me when she died," she whimpered, her voice raising in tone until she broke down into hysterical sobs.

He could only hold her tighter as she cried, muttering more to himself than to anyone else, "D-dear mother of God...I...I'm so sorry..." She continued, her words interrupted by the occasional sob. "M-my father...he was a great big timber wolf," she said, crying until she shook with the force of her sobs. She hugged him back just as tightly, slowly returning her gaze to his. "I-I've been on my own ever since." She whispered, sniffling between every other word. He held her shivering form, whispering gently, "I...I haven't been through what you have, but...but I know how it feels to lose a parent." At this, her ears twitched toward the sound of his voice, causing her earrings to jingle. "R-really?" He looked back at her, his ear-fins folding down. "Y-yeah. I lost them both about four years ago." She looked into his eyes, a look of understanding crossing her face. He chose his next words carefully. "It...it was the night of my thirteenth birthday...we were coming home from a surprise party...and it was raining really hard..." His voice cracked as hers had, and he took a moment to gather himself.

"The road was really wet, and...the other driver was coming from a bar somewhere, and..." He had to stop again, struggling to contain his grief from that night. "The cars hit each other at about 75 miles an hour. T-they were all killed instantly. I...I was thrown free of the crash..." He told, pain clearly evident in his voice. Onai motioned again towards the scar. "And this?" she asked knowingly. "A piece of metal from the other car got lodged in my skull when I was thrown. The doctors told me when I woke up that if it had gone any deeper than it had, I would have died instantly. As it was, they weren't optimistic about me ever seeing again, but I...I proved them wrong." Onai listened intently, cringing along with his description. "Wow..." It was really all that could be said to describe all the pain let go of that night.

* * * * *

They stayed up a while longer, sharing more of the details of their tragic pasts, until eventually sleep claimed them, with the pair curled together for warmth and comfort. That night, they had developed the kind of bond that can only be exceeded in strength by the bonds of love. Theirs were bonds forged in the fires of their combined pain. That night, the healing had begun.