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>Z_ip_

>That took forever.

>Being in the Municipal Complex, awaiting the trial that will decide the rest of your life does make you a bit nervous, so it's no surprise that extends to your bladder.

>You're glad you took care of it before the trial really started. You'd rather sit through the whole thing uninterrupted, and you'd rather not wet your pants if the verdict didn't go your way.

>You leave the bathroom and head back out into the busy hallway of the complex, anthros and humans of all types and stripes bustling around. The building isn't just a courtroom, after all, but also a large number of government offices-- ones that don't have Sundays off.

>One of the things the State is serious about is that whole 'separation of church and it,' regardless of if you believe an old interpretation of scripture or if you believe their new ones.

>Given that you've been visited by something like a god, one not from any of the more popular religions, you're not sure what to believe.

>You take a breath, shaking your head as you squeeze into the elevator; now's not the time to worry about that. Just worry about the trial, just worry about relaxing.

>The ever-crowding elevator doesn't do you many favors, but you do your best, closing your eyes and leaning against one of the far walls as suits upon suits come in. You empty your mind as the car goes up, and the crowd begins to disperse-- you don't pay attention to how many, but you can hear them shuffling around, feel the temperature lower a bit from the lack of fur, and finally breathe and get a little fresh air.

>After multiple soft chimes and steady stops of the elevator, you almost feel alone, one other figure in your periphery.

>Guess they're going up to the trial as we--

>Chunk

>You stumble slightly as the elevator lurches to a halt, and when the doors don't open, you let out a hissing "Shhit."

>The person you're sharing the car with does as well, right at the same time. You turn to look, and--

>Oh no.

>No, no, no.

>You are NOT going to consider that bitch.

>Patricia doesn't seem any more pleased than you are, her scowl hardly changing as she turns and realizes that you're the other occupant of the stuck car.

>"Great," she growls, "now I'll be stuck with you even longer today..."

>"Isn't exactly what I wanted either," you grumble, heading to the doors. You try to open them, but they're locked tight.

>"You have a key for this or something?" you ask the German Shepherd, who's leaning against the back wall.

>"Don't work here, perp. I'm ATF, not some paper-pushing pansy."

>"Then you try opening this, maybe the doors are halfway between floors and we can still get out."

>"Great way to get yourself chopped in half, dipshit."

>You stand straight and look at her, trying not to match her scowl.

>"Well, you got any great ideas?"

>The shepherdess smiles-- you wish she went back to scowling.

>"Yeah, I do. I'm gonna radio the complex's frequency and let them know you sabotaged this elevator-- too bad that I was here to stop your little scheme, huh?"

>You snort as she pulls out the black brick from her bulky belt-- if this is the level of argumentation she'll present at the trial, maybe you don't have to worry.

>"And how do I know you didn't do it to me?"

>"Why would I? I've already caught you, perp. You're going to pay for all that shit you put me through."

>You consider holding your tongue, but it's been a long seven days, and they've all been this bitch's fault.

>"All the shit I put you through? You've hounded me for two years, Pat; this past week, I almost thought I went insane. I could just as easily say you stalled the elevator to try and make me late to the trial."

>The shepherdess' scowl returns, her ears flattening a little as she looks at you for a bit before fiddling with the radio, finding the main channel for the complex.

>"Patricia Birch, ATF Field Agent. The elevator I'm riding broke, I'm stuck between floors 7 and 8."

>After a moment, a scratchy voice from the radio asks for clarification on which elevator, and she gives it to them.

>"Okay, we'll get a crew on it right away. Is anyone with you, and is anyone hurt?"

>"No. Just me and the suspect for the trial I'm taking part in."

>"Ahh, suspect."

>The scratchy voice pauses for a second, before talking in a lower tone as if he could whisper over the radio.

>"You think he had anything to do with it?"

>"No," Patricia sighs, moving back to one corner of the elevator, "He didn't. Tell the court staff for the Anonerson case that we'll both be late."

>"On it," the radio squawks before going silent, the shepherdess sliding down the slick wall to a seat.

>You take the opposite corner of the elevator, crossing your arms.

>You are not going to consider her.

>You are not.

>Cupid can force you two into this little situation, but he can't make you play-- at least, you don't think he can.

>Even if you wanted to, you didn't think bringing the Kolibri to the municipal complex would be a great idea, since not only can you not carry, but they don't allow weapons inside. And the bear-lady at the door was very thorough.

>Say nothing of it being the 'machine gun' that started this whole thing.

>You settle into the corner, looking at Patricia's feet. From what you saw, she's doing much the same.

>Neither of you wants to meet the other's eye; both of you know this is so close to ending, that there's no point in screwing it up now with an overstep of words or violence.

>You don't know how long the two of you sit like that, hardly making a sound-- probably a lot shorter than it feels-- before you hear her sigh.

>"Hard to believe it's all over, huh?"

>You look up, and she's still looking down.

>"This investigation has gone on for two years, and now... I got you. It's done. You'll be put away."

>Pointing out that she's wrong-- that you're not getting put away or assigned-- won't do anything helpful, but you have to respond.

>"Like a dog chasing a car and actually getting it, huh?"

>Patricia looks up at you, snarling for a second before chuckling.

>"Yeah. I guess so."

>"What'll you do now?"

>The scowl comes back in an instant, whatever mirth she had gone.

>"None of your business, perp."

>"Fine," you say, shifting and looking away. "Figured that after harassing me for two years, you could at least tell me what you'd do after we meet for the last time."

>You see her head shift in the corner of your eye, the slight growl she's got stopping.

>"You make it sound like I'm leaving you, Anon," she says, a hint of laughter to her voice.

>Damn that cherub. You didn't even see it this time.

>"You are, kind of."

>You turn back to her; she quickly puts on that bitch-face she usually has, making you wonder how many times it was real.

>"As much of a pain in the ass as you were, it was kind of fun watching you get worked up at the range. Fucking had to, or you'd just be annoying and ruin it."

>"So you admit you were harassing me?" she says, that evil smile on her face.

>"I admit that I reacted to you harassing me and Talia, yeah. You wouldn't let us enjoy the range, you wouldn't let us enjoy each other, so we had to enjoy something."

>She doesn't like your comment but doesn't say anything, looking away.

>You're tempted to say something, but hold off. She's pissed off already, and--

>Oh, what the hell.

>She's always pissed off.

>And today is the last day you'll see her, God willing.

>"I've tried to figure it out, Pat. Plenty of times."

>She looks up, seeming to be surprised that you're actually meeting her eyes.

>"At first I thought it was just your pride, from when you first blew up at me at the range and found out you were in the wrong. That me and Talia were together, that it was fine for me to not just be there, but to help out."

>You take a breath, expecting her to interrupt with some kind of barking about how she wasn't-- but she doesn't.

>She keeps her eyes on yours, daring you to go on.

>"Then I figured it was just that me and Talia were together. That you were jealous. Of her for having me, of both of us for having each other, I don't know. I know you're a 'Ms. Birch,' so it'd make sense."

>This time you see her lip curl-- but her ears don't twitch downward in that angry way they normally do. They droop.

>"But that wasn't it. Every time you yelled at me, threatened me, watched me like a goddamn hawk, waiting for me to so much as break wind the wrong way, you never once touched me. I've dealt with handsy, lusty cops before, and you're not one of them."

>You pause.

>"It... it's one of the few things I admire about you."

>Her ears perk back up, her mouth once more a thin line.

>"So now, I figure it's an obsession."

>You let the word hang; she looks away.

>"With me, with me and Talia, I don't know. With your job, maybe, or with being right. But to be honest, I don't much care now. Like you said, it's all over."

>Now you're the one daring her to look, but she doesn't, her eyes closed as she looks off at one of the walls. You stare at her closed lids for a few moments before returning your gaze to the floor.

>It felt good to get all that off your chest, but nagging, little details stick out in your mind.

>The way her fluffy tail seems smaller now, curled up against her leg.

>Her ears hanging limp.

>"You're right, you know."

>You look up; Patricia hasn't moved, her eyes closed, head turned as she speaks.

>"It's about the job."

>It's not a growl, her tone even. Somehow that's worse.

>"Because it's all I have."

>You wait for more, for her to open her eyes and look at you, give you some kind of dressing down or to lunge at you with that expanding baton she likes swinging around so much-- but she doesn't.

>After a few minutes, when you've returned your gaze to the floor, you hear faint humming.

>You don't recognize the rhythm as she nods her head, but you find yourself tapping along.

>Quietly, so that she doesn't hear.

>Your eyes close, and you lean back against the wall with a sigh.

>What feels like ages later, as the elevator moves again and you're finally able to climb out, you realize what song it was when you and Pat go your separate ways:

>"More than Words."