Astray

By Kichigai Kitsune. 2010 onwards.

Warning! This story contains adult themes and coarse language. This story also contains and refers to sensitive topics, such as child abuse, either institutionalized or from parents. Even worse, it contains scenes of a sexual nature involving a young anthropomorphic furry character ("cub") and an actual plot. Be advised, and do not continue if you are under the age where you would be legally allowed to view such material according to the laws you are subject to.

WARNING: readers have asked me to reiterate this. This story contains details of child abuse, involuntary incarceration in a behavior modification facility and resultant trauma. Sensitive readers and those who were unfortunate enough to have similar experiences should be careful.

Disclaimer: This story features coarse language, as well as explicit scenes of a sexual, violent or potentially disturbing nature, involving a "cub" (young anthropomorphic, "furry", non-human character). Themes such as child abuse, and use of alcohol by minors are also contained within this work. If you are under the legal age in your area/country/state to view materials containing these themes, or believe you may find them disturbing, do not read beyond this disclaimer. Reading further is done with appropriate foreknowledge of the content contained, and you agree to not hold the author, or any other party, responsible for your informed decision to continue reading.

If you enjoy my content or approve of my message, consider supporting me so I can keep doing this. https://www.patreon.com/kichigaikitsune

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Week One - Spots and Stripes.

The refectory was a simple linoleum floored eating area, with only a few plain tables and chairs that sat in severe, uniform rows. It was, however, occupied by plenty of young furs, and the nigh military starkness of the room seemed almost absurd in the face of their expressive clothing and idle chatter.

Still a few months from eleven years of age, Nick looked around the spacious, unfamiliar room and shivered slightly in his hard plastic chair, alone at a table. All these other furs and the strange, rigidly organized surroundings made him very edgy. He hated it already, and he'd been here for just one day out of his many months of unconventional sentence.

His social worker - some dick he'd never seen before, just as useless as all the others - was surprised at the decision the court handed down. It didn't really surprise the cheetah cub however. Everyone seemed to be out to get him at this point.

It was simple. Nick would not under any circumstances go to another home! He was done with that! Never again. He'd given it enough chances, and he let them all know this.

So the assholes decided that putting Nick in a 'private institution' until something could be worked out was a good idea.

Nick disagreed.

"Fuck this..." he grumbled, poking at the disgusting, soggy mass on the tray before him. He had no real idea what it was, and he would be damned if he was going to put it in his mouth. It smelled like fried carrot or something equally unappetizing, but it was a greenish-white... once he was even certain it had moved, though he chalked that up to his nervous imagination.

He barely moved for nearly thirty minutes, occasionally toying with his 'food', as he contemplated his new situation.

On all sides he was surrounded by older furs. Their eyes were on him, and he didn't feel they were friendly - they were hard, suspicious glances; they were evaluating him, trying to work out where he'd fall in this awful place's pecking order. Nick could tell that, most likely, he would be at the very lowest rung.

Despite the hustle and bustle of the many teenaged furs that were now his prison-mates, Nick felt cold, scared and alone.

"Hey," said a loud voice. "You'd better eat that. Don't waste food."

Nick started and looked up. It was one of the uniformed guards, a huge, middle-aged lynx that Nick had seen already, but never had occasion to speak to.

Nick's first words to him were perhaps ill-advised. "Fuck off, I'm not eating this shit!" he said firmly, pushing the tray away. "I don't even know what it is."

The big feline just folded his arms. "It's food. Eat it."

"What, are you deaf, shit-head?"

There was a quiet that spread rapidly through the refectory. Nick had said that a little loudly.

At first, he thought the ominous pause was a good sign. It often happened this way, really. The fur bothering him was stunned by his words, and backed down in surprise.

Things were different here, evidently, and the lynx was clearly furious that he had been shown up in front of the assembled youths.

"Stand up." The guard's eyes narrowed and his shoulders bunched. From beyond the kit's field of vision, one of his colleagues, a heavy-set leopard, approached silently.

"What?"

"Get on your fucking feet, kid."

Nick glared at him icily. "No."

But when the guard actually stepped towards him purposefully, Nick's eyes widened and he got to his feet, ready to fight or flee. He'd only backed away a few steps, when a huge paw secured his wrist in a vice-like grip from behind, while a second was heavily clapped down on his shoulder and squeezed. Pushing him to the ground.

"What the fuck?!" Nick cried shrilly, lashing out with his other fist, but the much larger adult easily maneuvered the boy's body so the blow couldn't reach. "Aah! Let go!" He wilted slightly under that huge paw on his slender shoulder.

The lynx grabbed his other wrist and shoulder. "On your knees!" he snapped, shoving the kit downwards forcefully. "Now!"

"Let go of me, you fucking-!" The kit's legs buckled under the pressure, and he fell painfully to his knees on the linoleum, arms firmly held out to his sides like he was trying to imitate an airplane.

The hulking guards thrust him forwards onto his chest, controlling his arms so he crashed face-down onto the hard, cold floor, arms pinioned out to his sides. The lynx straddled the cub's back, his bodyweight crushing the smaller hips to the floor.

Taking both of Nick's wrists in those meaty paws, he twisted them up to the center of the boy's spine and shoved them down.

"Get off!" Nick wailed, trying to squirm. The position he'd found himself in so suddenly, however, completely killed any hope of moving, let alone escape. He could scarcely move his head and lower legs. "What are you doing?"

The lynx pinned the kit firmly to the ground. "You fucking do as you're told!" he shouted, looming just behind the kit's ears.

Nick flinched, then let out a choked gasp. The lynx's weight was ridiculous, and his shoulders were already sore. "Shit! Get off! Get off!" he yelled, once again attempting to extricate himself and having absolutely zero luck. He was completely and utterly immobilized. He tried to kick upwards with his lower legs. They didn't reach at all. "I'll fucking kill you!! What the hell are you doing?"

Panic welled within him. A panic he hadn't felt in years. Dread utterly seized him. What was going on?! What were they going to do to him like this?!

"Can't we shoot this kid up?" asked the other guard, sounding disturbingly nonchalant. "He's gonna be a pawful otherwise. I can tell."

"Don't think so. Make a note and ask the doc."

Nick struggled and tensed with all his might, but every ounce of his strength couldn't dislodge the sheer dead weight of the grownup over thrice his mass - the adult barely noticed he was struggling. "Ungghnn! I'm gonna fucking kill you!" he wheezed, finding breathing hard for some reason. "G-get off, you fat bastard!" His arm was wrenched and his shoulder seared with pain. "AH!! Fuck off... meeee!"

The slender kit started to cry. He could barely breathe like this. He was certain he was going to die; his heart-rate was rapidly soaring out of control and it felt like a searing fire was growing hotter and hotter within him that'd burn him out if they didn't let him go!

His mind started to race as incoherent, innately dreadful thoughts started howling around in his head. Painful concepts and dark meaning twisted and colored everything.

Looking around as best he could, Nick saw several other kits, all older than him, eye the scene with distaste at best, apathy at worst. Not a one lifted a paw to help him. In fact, none of them seemed inclined to stand.

The lynx guard merely held him down. He held on, ignoring Nick's pleas for air and freedom. The refectory eventually emptied, and the other guard blithely went to focus on other duties, leaving the two alone in the cold room. The offended guard seemed intent on keeping this horrible ordeal going as long as he could for some reason, and was unfazed by Nick's wails and maddened bawling. He taunted and mocked, telling Nick that until he calmed, they would stay like this. But Nick couldn't calm himself.

Finally the kit surrendered and laid still, focusing all his remaining energy on trying to draw breath with his body so firmly flattened to the hard, unyielding floor. Nick whimpered, trying to stop a sudden, inexplicable wave of revulsion from making him throw up. He had lost track of time. Had it been an hour? Five minutes? His entire body ached and he was exhausted.

"Let me go..." he sobbed, voice quavering violently. "Fuck you... Stop it. Stop it! Stop iiiiit!"

And then he burst into tears.

---

With a retching gasp, Nick awoke.

He looked around wildly, only to realize he could see nothing whatsoever. It took time for his eyes to adjust, and he eventually saw he was leaning on a sheeted bed, in the colorless gray of an unlit room. His heart was beating loudly in his ears, and he felt deliriously light-headed.

Finally, his mind caught up, and he hauled himself to his paws unsteadily.

He stumbled a few times as he made his way around the bed to the dark structure that he was fairly sure was the table with the lamp he had seen earlier. When he reached it, he fumbled around in the dark looking for a way to turn on the light.

"Where the hell..." he mumbled. At last, his paw brushed something metal, and a bright, hot light blasted into his eyes. He recoiled in surprise, blinking until the green splotches vanished from his vision.

He sat down heavily on the soft carpet, rubbing his knees. They felt painful after kneeling for so long while he slept. Very painful. He winced as the blood returned to them.

Incredulous, Nick scowled at the bedside clock. It insisted the time was four in the morning. At a minimum he had slept for ten hours-he never slept that long. The clock had to be wrong. That was unheard of.

He twisted to look at the room's window. It was shut, but no light crept in from around the edges whatsoever. It was dark outside.

An astonished Nick leaned against the wall. The cub closed his eyes and touched them gently through his eyelids. He felt odd, too; maybe he really had managed to get a decent sleep somehow. He must've been exhausted.

But why had he dreamed about that day? He still remembered much of the rest of that horrific day with crystal clarity, but any memory of the time he had spent pinned down like that had long been blurred and distorted, like a dream from long ago. It had been surreal, that first time, each second fraught with that all consuming panic. There had been something odd about the experience, something that he still didn't quite grasp that made it such utter hell. But understanding his own manic brain was something he often failed to accomplish.

Doctor Czejak had visited him for the first time that day. It didn't go well. Traumatized and scared, Nick was in no mood to talk, not even a word. As he left, Czejak questioned one of the guards, and Nick listened in.

The coyote was livid. It was the first and last time Nick had ever heard the guy so furious. He couldn't hear the words through the interview room's heavy door, but when the lynx came in to take Nick out of there, his face was coldly angry, and he wasn't gentle. That had brought a momentary smirk to Nick's face. It was, in a way, a sort of victory, and it had been a long time since Nick had one of those.

He later found out that certain guards relished their power to almost arbitrarily take them down like that Since they couldn't hit the inmates, per se, they would often try to take them down just a little too close to furniture and walls. Their favorite position made it extremely hard to breathe, too.

It was probably the worst thing about the detention center, Nick had decided. At least for him. He had been pushed around by larger adults many times before, but it had been so long since those times, right? He was sure he had become more independent, smarter, and stronger. He thought that time enough had passed; he would surely be more of a difficult customer if someone wanted to control him like that again!

Wrong. There was a reason these monsters were employed as guards, as another kit pointed out to Nick. They had the training to totally control another fully grown adult, and with the older or more willful teenagers at the center, they often attacked in packs like wild animals. They brooked no challenge to their authority. And they were huge. They were only 'supposed' to employ those techniques when a kit was clearly going crazy and was a definite danger to everyone. Their idea of 'danger' was obviously different to Nick's. He had been no danger, that first time - he only wanted to be left alone.

Nick clenched his paws. It was disgusting. It made him feel so weak-and maybe he was weak. The guards effortlessly pushed and pulled him to the ground whenever they deemed him to be misbehaving, and nothing he did could affect a thing; he often wasn't even given the chance to explain himself. Where could he run? His room? A dead end? There was never anywhere to go. It was the same as it had always been.

But he was away from all that now. No reason to dwell on it. Gary wasn't allowed to do these things, supposedly. It didn't mean that much, what someone was allowed to do-he had learnt this a long time ago-but Nick would take the risks to see what he could get away with. He had been on a short chain for too long.

After a moment, he pulled himself to his foot-paws again.

Gary was sure to be asleep, Nick reasoned. It might be a good time to check the place out properly, and maybe even avail himself of some of the interesting contents of that dark-wooden cabinet. He wasn't stupid: he knew he could be in serious trouble if Gary found him touching his booze, but that assumed that Nick left behind any evidence.

He pushed open the door and looked down the corridor. There was a small amount of light emitted from the bathroom, which had been left open; it was most likely a nightlight. All the other doors were closed, and Nick saw no hint of illumination behind them. Gary was asleep for sure.

On silent paws, Nick crept to the master bedroom and laid his furry head against it, listening intently. He couldn't hear anything; neither activity nor snoring. The door was probably just too thick, he reasoned, and he made his way to the stairway.

It was cold down in the foyer. It was a large, open area and surprisingly well lit from the moonlight shining in through a wide window, and an unknown light source in the kitchen. The air wasn't still; there had to be an open window or something somewhere.

Nick descended into the living room, and made his way around the couch. There he stopped and stared.

The wooden cabinet was bare.

"Shit!" he hissed, kneeling to try and open the bottom compartment. It was locked. "Fuck!"

He fell onto his backside and glared at the unyielding cabinet door in disappointment. Gary must've been warned by Czejak, hidden all the stuff on top of the cabinet inside it instead, then locked it.

That screwed his plans for the night. He had been looking forward to drinking at least something...

Then again, maybe the night wasn't totally ruined. He found himself pining for some stargazing all of a sudden. The simple garden was still Gary's property, and surely Nick would be allowed to sit out there on the cool, wet grass and watch the steady, moonlit clouds drift by? Getting outside would certainly help clear his head, and he hadn't been able to do anything like that for some time.

He stood once more and strode to the big, ornate front door. Nick unlocked the dead-bolt, breathing a sigh of relief; if it had been locked too, Nick would've freaked.

However, a surprise was waiting for him when he twisted the handle and pulled the heavy door inwards.

"BWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!"

"AAH!" Nick screamed, jumping backwards. "What the fuck?!"

There was no reply, just more relentless 'Bweee'-ing from somewhere nearby.

From above, Nick heard stirring and activity.

The horrendous whining continued, and Nick felt himself get lightheaded. It was an alarm, and it was right near the door somewhere. He looked around frantically, trying to find some way to shut it off.

"Nick?!" exclaimed a voice from the direction of the stairway, barely audible over the high-pitched noise.

"God! Turn it off!" wailed Nick, not turning, but clamping his ears down with his paws.

Suddenly the incessant screech exploded into a deafening siren-like din, and Nick flinched violently away from the doorway, almost going to his knees while his ears stung painfully. Then the lobby was filled with dazzling light, but after a few short seconds, the alarm's cacophony thankfully came to an end. Nick turned and spotted Gary, clad in only pajama bottoms, poking at a lit panel in the wall by the stairs.

"What the fuck was that?!" Nick demanded, voice shaking.

Gary finished jabbing at the beeping panel and turned around. Mid-way through his first syllable, he actually burst out laughing. "Nick, you look like you've seen a ghost!" he chortled.

"Fuck you!" Nick said indignantly, looking away. His hearing was a little muffled.

"Was that really necessary, Nick?" replied Gary, his expression mildly disapproving. "Anyway, it was my alarm." The grownup yawned. "Since it got to that point, the cops will probably be coming around now. I'm gonna have to stay up and deal with them."

"Cops?" Nick literally felt the blood drain from his face.

"Yeah." Gary turned to go back up the stairs, yawning languidly. "I guess it's time to get up. Earlier than usual, but..."

"Shit!" Nick exclaimed, taking an involuntary step after Gary. "Wait! I didn't mean to set it off! I just wanted to go outside! I wasn't gonna run away! Fuck, man!"

The grownup turned back. "Whoa, calm down, Nick. It's automatic; they have to respond in case someone has broken in. They're not coming here for you, if they get around to coming at all, the lazy bastards. You're allowed outside; the doc explained it to me."

Nick looked away again, cursing.

"I'm sorry, Nick," Gary continued expansively. "I should've told you about the alarm, or turned it off. I didn't think you'd want to go outside so late. My fault."

Nick nodded slightly.

"I went to bed early in case you woke up anyway, so whatever, huh?" The adult chuckled. "I'll need a coffee for if the cops do come around. As in, medically require one to stop myself from becoming clinically dead. Want some breakfast?"

"No."

Gary looked at him, bemused. "Do you ever eat?"

The kit didn't move for quite some time, just stared at the floor. His stomach ached. He'd gone some time without eating. "...I ain't hungry," he lied.

On cue, his stomach growled loudly at him, as if chastising him for his thoughtless deception. He closed his eyes and swore silently.

The police did show up eventually. Roughly fifteen minutes later.

After Gary saw them off and apologized, he returned to the living room, where Nick was sitting quiescently on the couch, a small plate of microwave-reheated ravioli and dried sauce beside him. Gary had not as yet actually seen the kit eat any of it, despite the boy's obvious hunger.

The kit had been watching Gary like a hawk while he was at the door, surveying him silently as he spoke with the dour-faced police officers; until Gary looked over to him, that is. Then Nick instantly turned away, trying to act like he hadn't even been paying attention.

Gary couldn't help but wonder why the kit was doing that. It wasn't the hard, threatening stare he'd already been faced with, but a warily curious observation. It was also clumsily obvious.

He had to wonder what was on the cub's mind. Nick was in an unusual environment with a stranger that he'd never met before. That would've been fraying his nerves something terrible.

"It's a good thing you weren't really breaking in," he jested as he joined the kit. "Talk about late."

Nick didn't reply straight away, poking a piece of pasta, as if unsure it wasn't actually alive. "Never did that."

"Hm?" Gary sat down on the other side of the living room, on a recliner. He wanted to give the kit as much space as possible.

"Never broke into houses and shit."

"Oh. I didn't mean it like that," Gary assured him. "Just meant that they took forever to get here."

Nick prodded his ravioli again. Gary saw no evidence that he'd actually eaten anything, and the kit seemed to be deep in thought. He grunted softly.

Chuckling, Gary smiled at him. "Well, never mind that. Want to watch TV? Not that there's going to be much on at this time."

The kit shook his head slowly.

"How about you test-drive the console I bought for you?"

Nick looked over at the peculiar black and blue plastic cube on the floor, with cables trailing from it up to the television's back. "How much did that thing cost?"

"Huh? About five-hundred bucks for the system, and I only got two games; those were about fifty each. So six-hundred."

The kit blinked. "Why?" he asked bluntly.

Gary grinned amiably. "Because I wanted you to have something to do while you were here."

Another half-minute of silence. Gary had been warned about these lapses, and that they were actually good things. Not that Czejak had chosen to explain.

The cub shook his head. "I'm going upstairs."

Gary sighed, clearly disappointed. "Alright. By the way, feel free to use the bathroom, Nick. I set it up for you already."

Another pause.

"Do you have any more clothes?" Gary suddenly enquired, cocking his head. "I didn't see you with any when you came here. Or any luggage at all, actually."

"No."

"I'll have to get you some, I guess. No big deal."

Nick stood abruptly and walked towards the lobby and the stairs, leaving the uneaten ravioli on the couch. "Whatever."

When he was back in his room, he fell heavily to the floor, again eschewing the bed in favor of sitting Indian-style on the comfortable carpet.

He didn't move an inch for almost ten minutes. Just stared at the linen-covered bed.

Nick groaned all of a sudden, burying his face in both paws. First day, and already he'd invited the cops to come around to Gary's house for a visit. "What the fuuuuck?" he groaned to himself.

The cub clawed at his face, growling. He felt like a total moron.

So he stretched out onto his back and stared at the ceiling, trying to shift his thoughts to something else. He knew he could lie like this all day if need be. When he was banned from the yard and television and even conversation with his fellow inmates at the center, he quickly found solace within his own mind.

He could occupy himself for interminable hours, counting backwards from one hundred by sevens, stopping every twenty-eight to add forty-two, just to keep the 'game' going longer. He didn't remember if he had a knack for dealing with numbers before being trapped in that shit-hole, but he certainly did now.

At times, they'd give him things to do. Pointless busywork designed just to keep him 'out of trouble' and wear him down a bit-he was being punished, after all. But the tasks didn't satisfy by themselves, so Nick honed and played his own mental games and fantasies for many hours out of every day.

There wasn't much to do in this house, really, but then there never was.

Gary had bought him an expensive device that Nick had absolutely no idea how to use, and expected it to keep him occupied. The kit didn't even really know if he appreciated the gesture or not. It wasn't something he had asked for, and he hated when people tried to make him owe them by doing things for him he didn't want, though he did feel a little awed that someone who had never met him had thrown so much money at his paws... he had never even seen that much money.

"Urgh..." Nick groaned, sitting up once more. This was stupid; he wasn't there anymore. He was still wearing that filthy orange t-shirt, but it held no significance here. He wanted to rip it up, though that'd achieve nothing but to leave him without a shirt in the middle of Fall. Even he wasn't that impulsive. At least not at this particular moment.

The most important thing was that he had an entire house to explore. And if all that meant was that he was capable of sitting on his ass where ever he felt like it and then just lying around doing nothing, then all the better.

Gary's invitation to use the bathroom came to mind, and Nick realized he hadn't had a good, private shower in over a year. His ears slowly perked up... there had been no mention of a time-limit to any showers. That was an interesting thing. Gary would probably not want him in there for too long, but too bad.

He jumped to his feet and made straight for the door, tugging it open and heading immediately down the small hallway to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. For some reason, the notion of getting wet utterly enthralled him at the moment.

The kit looked around the simple, tiled room. It was quite sizeable by Nick's standards, and the luxurious shower-bath combination took up almost a third of it. What little room was left was occupied by the toilet, a sink and a mirror. There were small rosebud-shaped lights dotting the wide mirror's plastic frame, which made it look weirdly opulent.

Wasting no time, Nick located a towel on the rack and promptly ripped the orange shirt over his head, almost angrily hurling it at the tiled ground. He felt better already; he had to stop himself from spitting on the lump of fabric.

Movement caught his eye, and he looked up, finding himself face to face with his own topless reflection. It made him sigh bitterly.

His body was slender, worryingly so. Being a cheetah, he was definitely predisposed to being of a lithe, light build, but nonetheless he found his form a disappointment.

There was none of the musculature his older friends exhibited. None of the bulk his tormentors showed. And he despaired of ever seeing that change.

Nick hated his own body. Hated it. It was weak, and it showed. He was weak. He could see it in the mirror right now.

Growling in disgust, he looked away. Kicking off his shoes and slipping down his underwear and shorts simultaneously, he kicked all his clothes into the corner. A very weird idea came to him, and he froze once more.

And looked hesitantly back up at the mirror...

His nude, spotted self gazed back at him, expression curious.

With a quiet gulp, Nick rubbed down his torso, blinking stupidly. He'd not seen himself naked in any form of mirror for a very, very long time. As much as he hated the weak, ineffectual stature of his body, he found himself looking hard at it now. It was somehow... surprising to see it again. Gratifying. Like seeing an old friend after a long time apart. A part of him he felt he'd been separated from somehow; even though that made not even the slightest bit sense.

He'd looked down and seen himself before, of course, but seeing the entire picture, in this situation, was a different thing altogether.

His paw 'drifted' unsurprisingly southwards, and within moments it was resting carefully at the base of his little penis.

Now Nick's features took on a wry smirk. It wasn't just his muscles. The mocking nicknames and teasing his older friends used to throw his way all the time still applied, he noticed, chuckling slightly. It didn't entirely bother him. It never really bothered anyone else.

Shrugging, the kit peeled his vision away from the lit mirror and leaned over the capacious tub, twisting the taps firmly. Instantly, a blast of water cascaded from the shower head high on the wall, splashing noisily into the bath.

Nick was astonished to find himself shaking with anticipation. He looked around with an unusual sense of urgency, and finally spotted the plug beside the sink. "Hell fucking yeah!" he whispered, picking the plastic object up as a dense, warm mist rose from the bath-tub.

A shower and a bath. He hadn't had a bath in even longer...

He gulped and found himself smiling as he watched the falling water splash into the bath, slowly filling. A deep breath... he could taste the moisture. He took a brief moment to re-check that the door was locked, before stepping back up the edge of the bath. He didn't want any intrusions.

Though, he did want to be in it before it filled, so he leaned on the cold bath's edge and tentatively lowered a foot-paw to the rippling, steaming surface.

It made him shudder, when he penetrated the surface and the water licked up his toes. A groan escaped him. Without hesitating, he stepped into the tub, directly under the shower's flow.

He stood motionless for a moment, letting the water soak into his fur. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced for a little while... the all over stimulation of water lapping teasingly up his legs, while the rest of him was covered in the moving water from the shower.

It made him feel like he was melting, actually.

"Oh man," he mumbled. With a sigh, the kit sank to his knees, the water coming to his thighs now. He looked down with bemusement as his member floated on the surface, almost like a little boat, and couldn't help but snigger.

He poked at it once before turning around, lying on his back lengthwise in the tub, head on the gently sloping top edge of the bath, while the shower massaged his torso, hundreds of heavy drops bounding off his chest and stomach.

His eyes closed, and he felt time fade away while the rising water lifted him higher and higher, lulling him with its rocking movement, aided by the gentle sensation of the falling water on his flat, furry body.

If he was planning on lying around doing nothing for hours on end, this was the place he wanted to be to doing that.

Smiling, he ran a paw down his body. It stopped momentarily at the base of his belly, and he frowned.

That was another thing he hadn't been able to do in far, far too long. He had been denied liquor and going outside, but he would not miss this chance: he would not be denied the chance to enjoy this for the first time in years, and he would...

He lifted his limp member up between two fingers, and let a few drops of water patter on its tip. He rolled it between his fingers and the palm of his paw.

It made him shudder.

Peeling back the foreskin and brushing at the sensitive tip did more than that, and he gasped involuntarily. So he did what any young male would do at this point, and he did it again. And again.

Nick felt his breathing speed up a little, and much to his delight, he also felt his penis twitch its way to erectness. He squeezed and rubbed at it, giving it much unneeded encouragement.

Soon, it stood 'tall', and Nick wrapped his paw right around it, pumping it slowly, slipping the foreskin up and down. The slickness of the water and his suddenly realized pent-up frustration enhanced the warm rippling feeling as it slipped throughout his body, offering mild contrast to the cool water he bathed in.

"Fuck yeah," he said quietly.

The chances to do this had been few and far between since his incarceration. Even when he had been able to find the time, it was never enough time to get to the treat at the end. That just made him want it so much more.

So he took his time, almost to spite those wasted months-wasted in more senses than one.

He tugged on the little pole until he was breathing deeply, and writhing ever so slightly in the rising water.

Eventually, he couldn't hold himself back, and he pumped harder and faster, squeezing his dick firmly as he did so, feeling the skin of his palm, his foreskin and his glans glide easily over one another. He whimpered aloud; it was intense.

Finally he shivered, and a familiar sensation blossomed outwards from his groin, spreading throughout his entire body. The kit grimaced and forced down a cry, enduring it all in silence as his body tensed all over.

When it was over, Nick floated on his back, staring blearily up at the showerhead.

The orgasm felt different this time from the last he remembered, but he couldn't place it. All that mattered was this: it had been a strong one, and he felt great.

Nick closed the taps and just relaxed. He didn't see any particular reason to move anytime soon. He just swam pleasantly in the residual sensations, and floated in the soothing, lulling motion of the tepid water.

In fact, this was perfect. He was safe in here. It was private, and he didn't really want any further clashes with Gary. Or even any further conversation with the stranger.

He closed his eyes. Sleep wouldn't be possible for him, not a hope. But that little feeling had left him a bit dozy, as it always used to.

It was so relaxing. So wonderful.

He flailed suddenly, sending water splashing all over the tiled floor. "Oh shit!" he cried, lifting his left leg from the water and leaning forwards to inspect it.

The plain, gray hunk of plastic seemed fine, and the green light blinked calmly at him.

No one had ever told him if it was waterproof or not.

"Fuck!" Nick pulled his ankle towards his face and looked the device over more carefully. It seemed fine. Perhaps this one was waterproof.

Just in case, he carefully placed his heel on the edge of the tub. "Fuck you!" he hissed at the hated device pointlessly.

It just blinked back at him with that single green light.

Nick glowered at it. This was going to be the beginning of a long, hate-filled relationship with that piece of shit, he knew. This was just its first act of war: ruining his bath time.

The kit hoped that there'd be some way to smash it in the future. It'd deserve it before this ordeal was over. Long before.

It was almost two hours later that Nick had hauled himself from the bath, dried off, and dressed once more in his old clothing. They smelled more than a little ripe, but Nick didn't even notice. It wasn't like he had anything else to put on.

As he stood in the upstairs corridor, he paused. He had no idea where to go next-he felt nervous, and didn't want to return to his own room yet. With a sigh, he made his way downstairs, intent on exploring the house.

Passing the lounge, he looked in. Gary was asleep in the recliner. Nick observed him for a little while.

The adult didn't look like a bad guy, Nick thought again. He was not so naïve as to think that counted for anything but... despite the often crude words he fired at Czejak, Nick did trust his counselor a little.

There had to be a reason the coyote thought so highly of Gary. Nick could think of no reason why Czejak would lie to him about this. The question then, was if Gary had deceived the doc. It was possible. Nick wasn't stupid. He knew that what happened in his last long term foster-home was not, strictly speaking, 'allowed'.

That didn't make the authorities blameless. Nick hated them for taking control of his life; he had lived under someone's uncaring thumb his entire existence, and now some suit-wearing fuck-skulls that would never even meet Nick had simply taken on the role... and they screwed him over. At least before, Nick had faces and names to attach to the cursing. It made him sick.

"Fuck it," he mumbled, deciding to walk away.

"Unh?" Gary stirred, cracking open his eyes. He blinked a few times, as if he didn't recognize Nick. "Oh. Hey. Must've fallen asleep."

Nick froze and turned.

"You were in there for ages," chortled the grownup, stretching. "Like the shower-bath combo?"

After a moment, Nick nodded.

"It's new. Originally was just a bath; decided to improve the guest rooms a little after my 'rents died." Gary stood and stretched some more. "Oh, you don't have to wear shoes inside, Nick."

Nick's heart missed a beat. "I'm not taking them off," he stated.

"Never said you had to-though the carpet would appreciate it. Just saying, this is your home for now."

Nick made no move to remove his footwear. He stared at Gary with a neutral expression for a few seconds. "You talk a lot," he observed as he looked away.

Gary started in surprise. "Huh? And you talk very little."

"So what?"

"What's worse, talking a lot or talking very little?" Gary smiled.

Nick frowned. "Talking a lot. Nobody can think if you keep talkin' at them."

"Why? Can't they do two things at the same time? That's pretty stupid. And if furs didn't talk, there'd be nothing to think about, Nick." Gary looked around for his TV remote. "And how would you know if what you were thinking about was correct if we didn't discuss it? We'd still be in the stone age."

Nick looked at the wall silently for a moment.

"But I'm used to living alone, so I won't talk to you unless I have to, if you'd prefer that."

Nick still said nothing.

The TV flickered on, and the early morning news filled the screen.

Nick clamped his jaw firmly shut. What had come from between them just then had not been what he'd wanted to say. He decided now would be a good time to leave again, so he stepped towards the stairs.

"Nick."

The cheetah kit stopped before climbing the stairway back to his room. "What?"

"Do you want me to stop talking to you?"

"Up to you," Nick murmured. "I don't care." He darted up the stairs quickly.

Gary heard the kit's room door close firmly, and he lidded his eyes.

"Shit," he muttered to himself.

How was he going to bond with the kid like this?

He had almost a month, he reminded himself. Three weeks to try to win over this cub; it had been a mere half-day so far. He just had to be patient and hope for the best.

Though he had been warned that the first week would be fairly uneventful, even this kind of all but imperceptible conflict was going to fray his patience in days.

However, things had gone well so far. Nick had been more cordial towards him just then than he'd expected. Gary guessed that it was because Nick wasn't quite settled yet. Rather than clash with Gary, the boy was retreating every chance he got.

"Gods above..." Gary rubbed his eyes. He had no idea what to do if Nick did pick a fight. The notion gave him chills. He'd had no experience in these situations with normal kits, let alone with a kid like Nick.

He yawned and turned the television off; he had no real intention of watching it anyway. If Nick was going to run back to his room, then he would get the rest of his night's sleep.

To hell with operating on five hours of it for the rest of the day.

Almost a dozen painfully slow hours had passed, and Nick had spent them gazing motionlessly out the window. The broad, well kempt street, lined by auburn-leaved trees that glowed radiantly in the mid-morning sunlight; was a pleasing sight. A year or so ago, Nick would've never bothered with something as boring as watching an empty street for hours, but right now, it was perfect. He observed the quiet, beautiful street, almost jealous of its calm.

He wasn't exactly thinking. His head was filled with meaningless noise, even though on the outside he had scarcely moved all day.

It was sometime near mid-day that he sighed and moved away from the wide window. Boredom was something he was used to, but... it had been the same when he had first come to foster homes, or the detention center: his anxiety was making him stir-crazy. Normally, inaction was easy for him. But now, it felt like he was going to erupt into flames if he didn't do something.

After hours of stillness, he stood. Then he paced the room. Walked around the bed, looking into the closet, opening the empty bedside cabinet to stare blankly at its contents - or rather, the lack thereof. He scuffed the carpet. Back to the window. The closet again.

The cub sighed and finally sat down Indian-style at the base of the bed once more. His heartbeat was thumping in his ears, and he fidgeted. He wished this feeling would hurry up and go away. He could endure his situation more easily if it did.

The door was knocked gently, and he looked up at it warily.

"Nick?" came Gary's voice. He sounded tentative. "Um, I'm ordering pizza. What sort do you like?"

The kit didn't reply.

"Nick, are you in there?"

Nick stared at the carpet, hoping the adult would get the hint and leave.

"Can I come in? Are you alright in there?"

Finally, Nick got to his feet and padded to the door. He opened it, and found Gary's surprised face looking down at him. "I'm not hungry," he said in a flat voice. Then he closed the door right in that surprised face.

Out in the corridor, Gary blinked a few times. "Um, Nick, I have to get food for you. You can't just starve while you're here."

"Oh, fuck off!" he heard Nick snap at him hotly. "I don't want anything! Leave me alone."

"I don't get it, Nick," Gary responded, struggling mightily to repress his frustration. His jaw clenched tightly. "Why don't you want me to get you any food?"

"Leave me alone! I don't want anything from you. Don't you remember what I fuckin' said yesterday? Just get fucked!"

Throwing his paws up in the air, Gary turned away and made his way back downstairs. "Fine, whatever!"

Collapsing inelegantly onto his couch again, Gary cursed.

"Well, that's the first battle," he noted sourly. "Smooth move there, genius." He swore yet again, reminding himself that it was not his fault that Nick responded to his simple offer like that.

The grownup calmed himself down, remembering that a few occasions like this were bound to pop up. He knew that. He didn't expect it to come out of nowhere like that though. But then, that was what Czejak had warned him about: Nick operated under his own rules, emotions and logic. Thankfully, he'd bailed out before the situation got too bad. He hoped.

A jaw-splitting yawn later, the television was back on. He wasn't going to order pizza for himself; he just figured, obviously wrongly, that it'd be a good idea. Something for Nick. Something that the cub would enjoy; and maybe the two of them could've eaten together.

"Oh well." He picked up the remote and started to make his way through the channels. He was usually at work at this time, so he had no clue what was on.

Meaningless talk shows for terminally bored housewives, it turned out. Excellent. Early afternoon was likely the time most suicides occurred, he reasoned.

He switched the channel and was greeted by an infomercial selling a ladder. A ladder. To bored housewives. Time seemed to blur, as the infomercial repeated itself over and over, the same statements being made several times a minute. Apparently they felt the standard attention span was less than twenty-five seconds.

It was boring, but it was something to do until his friends got off work, and he could get online with them. He was sure he'd be able to tolerate it for a few hours, and it could take his mind off the little maniac upstairs.

Thirty minutes into this plan, his resolve was crumbling fast.

All of Gary's friends were occupied. They were at work, or in the case of the friends he had overseas, asleep. It was with some surprise that he realized he kind of missed the company of his work-mates at this time of day. They were boorish morons, but at least they could have conversations. Or arguments even.

He didn't know what galvanized him to look back at the lobby, but he did.

Nick was standing there, looking silently at the ground.

"Nick?!" exclaimed Gary, sitting bolt upright. He had no idea how long the boy had been there. "What?"

The kit didn't look up, as per normal. He fixed a blank gaze at a spot on the floor just in front of him. "Cheese."

"Uhh, what?"

"I said 'cheese.'" The cub turned and walked back to the stairway immediately, in a hurry to escape again. "Pizza."

In moments, the kit was back upstairs, leaving Gary bewildered.

With a rare flash of insight, he realized what had just happened.

He had just received an apology.

The door was knocked once more, and Nick looked up at it.

It wasn't knocked again, nor did Gary speak to him through it. That was something at least.

A few moments later, Nick concluded the adult had walked away. He stood and opened the door. There was indeed nobody in the corridor, and from downstairs he could hear the television in the den.

He nearly stood on the pizza box before he noticed it.

The startled kit knelt to pick it up, and the smell truly dizzied him. Pizza for him was a delicacy, rarely afforded, and one he hadn't smelled in many months, let alone tasted. He stumbled back into the room and placed the box on the bed's sheets.

Gary had actually went ahead and ordered the pizza.

"Shit," the kit cursed, turning his back to the box. He couldn't... he shouldn't have said anything. It was just wrong.

But he was already salivating just from the smell.

Nick felt his determination fade as his hunger redoubled, and he turned back to the pizza again, eyeing the white cardboard box with distaste. Distaste that was partially directed at himself.

He didn't know why, but accepting anything from Gary felt like... giving in. He really meant what he'd said yesterday. He wanted nothing from Gary, and he felt slightly angry that Gary hadn't taken his words to heart earlier. Even though he'd weakened and... Damn it!

The cheetah cub growled softly to himself. It drove him wild. How could this stranger just expect him to accept things from him? It made him furious!

He wasn't just gonna be cool with this. Go along with it.

They all expected him to just surrender. To give in and do whatever they wanted him to. Because they were 'right.' And they wanted him to admit that they were right. But they were not right!!

He hated this shit!

He swatted the pizza box angrily, cleanly hitting it with his paw, and it skidded across the sheets. It fell to the carpeted floor on the far side of the bed.

"Ugh, stop it!" Nick reprimanded himself sharply, trying to regain control. He went around the bed to retrieve the pizza.

Naturally, when it had fallen, the box had opened and half of the pizza lay upside down on the pristine, fluffy carpet. Cursing, Nick picked it all up and put it back in the box, which he replaced on the sheets.

A greasy, disgusting smear streaked the carpet where the cheese pizza had fallen.

Nick looked at it blankly for a moment, before turning his attention back to the pizza.

The first mistake he made was lifting a slice up. When it hovered near his nose like that- moist, quivering cheese tantalizing him with its scent, the subtle odor of tomato sauce as its delicious, insidious counterpoint- all thoughts of indignity and anger ceased. It suddenly became clear to him that, in spite of everything else, he really wanted to eat this - it would be the best thing he'd have tasted in months.

"This doesn't mean anything," he said firmly to himself. "I'm just hungry." And with that, he bit into the slice. Or rather, he savaged it unrelentingly until nothing remained of it.

It wasn't long before other slices met the same fate. All of them, in fact. He devoured the entire pizza in mere minutes, one delicious piece after another, barely swallowing the last of one slice before biting into the next.

The empty box stared up at him, taunting the kit as he wobbled uneasily on his paws. The wondrous lethargy of being truly well fed took over Nick's whole being. A warm, woolly blanket descended on his senses. He felt stuffed. More than stuffed. A little... too stuffed.

In fact, the pizza seemed to resent being eaten.

"Oh shit..." Nick moaned, touching a paw to his stomach tentatively. "Mmmgh!"

He bolted for the bathroom.

"Doctor?"

"Nyuuuugh..."

"I'm afraid I don't know what that means, Doctor. Come on, wake up."

Czejak groaned and his eyes fluttered open. "Wha-?" He started, sitting bolt upright. "Oh! Karen? Was I asleep? Did I really fall asleep?"

His receptionist, a friendly faced lapin, smiled at him and easily seated herself in her employer's comfortable chair. "Is there anything you'd like to tell me about?" she chortled. "This is unprecedented."

The coyote blinked and realized he was lying on the comfortable leather couch in the center of his room. He chuckled and grinned sheepishly at the receptionist. "No, it's okay Karen. I just didn't sleep at all last night; I guess all the paperwork today just exhausted me."

"Why on Earth didn't you sleep?"

Czejak rubbed his eyes. "Paperwork. And worrying." He stood. "This experiment has got me a little edgy."

"The one with all those delinquents?"

"Interesting that you use them to characterize this little venture rather than the other side of it." He glanced over at his desk and groaned, sitting right back down again. The mound of paperwork was as big as he remembered it being.

"There's nothing more that you can really do now, doctor," Karen told him gently. "There will be failures, for certain; but I know you well enough to know that you've done all you could."

"Perhaps, but I'm still allowed to worry," replied Czejak gravely. "And that being said, I worry a lot about the Davis boy."

"The hideously foul-mouthed cheetah?" Karen shuddered. "Why?"

"He's really not that bad, really." The doctor shrugged. "And he has his reasons, Karen. Anyway, I think I made a mistake. A rather massive one if I may say so myself."

"You don't make many of those, doc."

"Exactly. So I must be due for one by now."

Karen folded her arms. "In all seriousness," she said, "why don't you talk to me about it? Get it off your chest. And I'm not suggesting this just because of the ironical seating arrangement here."

Czejak snorted a laugh. "Ah, my dear. It's very simple. I put Nick with a fellow cheetah, because I felt that, as individuals, they were a good match. Besides, you'd think a cub would be much more comfortable with a parent-figure of their own species."

"Sounds good to me."

"Indeed. The problem is that it might not be true in this case."

"...That you'll have to explain to me."

The doctor stood once more, striding to the large window. He gazed unseeingly out of it. "Trust is important here, Karen. It's the most critical element of this experiment: can the adults get the children to trust them? Children do not obey or respect those they don't trust - nor do adults, really. And even if Nick doesn't know it himself, It'll be very hard for him to ever trust is a fur with the same spots as his."

Karen stood, shaking her head. "I think I see what you're driving at. Have a little faith. Spots and stripes aren't as important as what you are on the inside."

Czejak grinned widely. "Indeed, but I'm sure Nick would reply: 'Oh, fuck off.'"

"He probably would. Not that I understand why."

"Sorry Karen." Czejak groaned. "I think you should take the rest of today off. We should close up for today; the Board doesn't like it when you're late with their tedious paperwork, so I need to get it all finished off quickly."

"Fair enough, doctor. You don't have any more appointments today anyway."

"Thank goodness. I think I need to go home and sleep - and yes I know I've just been doing that."

Karen's eyes were just slightly mirthful. "I wasn't about to say a thing."

As sunlight was merely just starting to intrude, all unwelcome, into his dark bedroom, Gary was awoken by the grating sound of a garbage truck growling its way along the street, not far from his slightly opened window.

He glared in its general direction as he sat up under the covers, touching a paw to his head.

The last two days had been uneventful. Nick had barely ventured out of his room out all - at least not while Gary was awake. The last real time they'd interacted was the pizza incident, almost forty hours ago. Since then, he'd seen evidence that Nick had checked out his fridge, but it was unlikely he found much ready to eat food in it.

Though Gary had tried, nothing he said managed to break the boy's determination to brood quietly in his room and avoid him. He had to admit he was worried - a little - but there was nothing he could do. It was better Nick brooded in his room than fought with him. The pizza incident had ticked him off enough.

So Gary groaned and hauled himself out of bed, pulling on a plain t-shirt to go with his pajama pants.

This was almost like a vacation, he reasoned. It was still awkward having the kit in his house, but Nick's determination to avoid him might mean that it wouldn't be too bad in the future. But of course, this pattern couldn't continue - if Nick continued to spend entire days alone, then the entire exercise was going to be pointless. But Czejak did tell him to expect it.

Breakfast was a simple affair for Gary. He put some crunchy cereal in a bowl, and added milk. He started spooning it into his muzzle as he made his way into the den, looking to spend the morning lounging around and watching TV alone; as he always liked to do whenever he could.

He paused, however, when someone else started descending the stairway quietly.

"Oh, morning Nick," he said genially, smiling warmly at the cub. He prayed the kit wouldn't tell that the smile wasn't all that genuine. "Want some breakfast?"

The kit froze and stared at him, as if he'd descended the stairs and found himself faced with the firing squad. "No. Not hungry..." He hesitantly came down to the lobby. Evidently, he hadn't expected to see Gary at this time.

"Alright." Gary moved to go on to the den, but he gasped, looking at Nick closely. "Oh, crap! Nick, where did you get that? I can't believe I never noticed it before. It's so dark it almost blends right into your tear."

At first, Nick just looked at him confusedly. Then he raised a paw to his eye. "Nothing."

"Looks really bad. What happened?"

"It doesn't matter, okay!?" Nick looked to the side, hiding the cruel bruise from view. "None of your business."

Gary rolled his eyes and walked on by.

"Hey!" Nick said belligerently. "What the fuck's that meant to mean?"

Gary turned quickly. "Don't you get snappy at me when you're acting like a little jerk, alright?" he retorted. "It's too early for that shit." Usually, Gary was a patient and cordial fur. But not so much early in the day, and Nick's hostility was starting to annoy him.

But to his surprise, Nick quailed noticeably for a split second and took a step back. For a moment, he looked uncertain and scared. Then he scowled, drawing himself up. "You-"

"Wait, look, it doesn't matter, Nick," Gary interjected, sighing. "I'm sorry."

The kit blinked. "Wh-what?"

"I was concerned, okay? That's all. I never noticed it before - was wondering if it happened when you were here. Never mind. I get cranky in the morning, that's all." The adult stalked over to the couch and sat down, giving Nick no chance to respond. The TV flickered on, and he started to spoon the cereal into his muzzle again.

He groaned internally, but Nick was staring at him, gaping slightly, hopelessly disarmed for some reason.

"I-it happened at the center..." Nick said, his voice quiet. "It's nothing."

"You don't have to tell me about it," Gary assured him, still a little irritated. "And I'm sorry for getting snippy myself."

The kit was silent, and he swayed slightly. He looked mightily uncomfortable all of a sudden.

Gary frowned at him. "You okay?" he asked slowly. "Sleep alright?"

Nick shook his head. "No," he said simply.

There was a hiatus while Gary decided to let the matter drop. Silence pervaded the room, but for the television's low muttering.

"It was a guard."

"Huh?" Gary looked around at the kit again.

"One of the guards. Hit me."

"What? Why?" Gary put down his cereal. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" Nick insisted, scowling again. "Why does it have to be my fault?"

Gary shook his head. "I didn't mean it like that. I never said he did it for a good reason. But why did he?"

Nick was looking at the floor now. Again. "Because he's a dickhead."

"Sounds like he was."

The kit made to leave quickly.

"Wait, Nick." Gary stood. Nick slowly turned back. "Listen. I'm going to go shopping today. The stores are all closed tomorrow, so I have to."

"So?"

"I'll have to leave you here alone... though I suppose you don't mind that."

The silent-treatment once more.

"Look, I have to buy you some clothes. If I don't, I'm going to get in trouble. Can't have you wearing just those things for three weeks." Gary coughed, steeling himself. "So... I was thinking, if I give you a catalogue and a pen, do you want to circle what you like? I'll buy it for you."

Nick flared immediately. "I don't want anything from-"

"I know you don't want anything from me. Czejak will get us both in trouble if I don't though, so I have to at least act like I'm looking after you. What size are you anyway?"

The kit looked up briefly, expression clouded. He evidently didn't like being interrupted. He also looked anxious and edgy, as if he really wanted to leave now. "Just get whatever then," he said flatly. "I don't care."

"Alright. I won't get anything lame, I promise." Gary breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "What size are you?"

"How the fuck would I know?"

"Well, wouldn't it be on the back of that shirt?"

The kit ripped his orange t-shirt over his head and tossed it onto the banister, baring his furry chest.

Gary stared at him uncomprehendingly. "Oh!" he exclaimed at last. "Uh. Right."

Nick resolutely averted his eyes, swallowing. His breathing had audibly sped up. Without another word, he fled upstairs, taking two steps at a time.

"What the hell?" mumbled Gary, getting to his foot-paws.

He walked over to the banister and lifted up the orange bundle of fabric. Gingerly, he sniffed at it and winced. It hadn't been washed in some time, it seemed. Gary had no idea that a cub could make his clothes stink so badly. Didn't they take it from him and wash it at some point?

"Ugh." The shirt didn't seem to have any size on it either. He'd have to take it with him somehow when he went shopping, use it for comparison.

With Nick upstairs again, Gary exhaled deeply in relief. That had been awkward.

That was also the second apology he'd received from the wayward cub in nearly as many days. Nick had no need to explain the bruise under his eye when he did.

Gary frowned. What had he said to shut Nick down like that? It seemed like he was going to explode for a second. What the hell had the kit gone through at that detention center? Why were they punching cubs in the face? What had he really done to deserve it? Was it, in fact, his fault? And why had Nick fled like that?

What the hell was going on?

Just how crazy was that boy?

Nick slammed the bedroom door and sank to his hands and knees immediately, hyperventilating.

"Oh shit..." he wailed to himself, clutching his chest with one paw. "No, go away! Not now!"

That had been hard. All of it. Every word. Every moment.

But now he couldn't hold it in any longer.

It hit him with full force at last. His vision shook and flashed white while he moaned on the floor of 'his' room.

"You idiot!" he scolded himself, trying to slow his breathing to no avail. He bit the side of his lip painfully, drawing just a little salty blood with his sharp incisors. "You fucking idiot. You're fucking crazy!"

The kit started to cry softly. He should've turned right around and gone back to his room when he saw Gary was up. What the hell had compelled him to ignore his instincts?

Gary's response had stopped his heart briefly. He even felt it. His chest constricted and seemed to grow momentarily cold. But he held onto his composure and prepared to fire back, as always.

Then he was totally disarmed. Lost and confused, embarrassed. As always.

And now he had returned to his room to cry alone... as fucking always!

Eventually his heart-rate subsided again. The tightness in his chest started to dissipate. Relief flooded through him. He had no idea where that one had come from. As always.

With a groan, he rolled over, collapsing onto his backside. Drained and dissociated, tingling uncomfortably all over, he tried to figure out what had caused it.

It proved too difficult to think at the moment, so he just curled up on the floor.

Sleep came to him unbidden, and at last. All night he had tried, but it had remained elusive. Suddenly exhausted, it came to him now...

It didn't last long, however. Soon, Nick was awake, pulling himself to his paws weakly.

"Unnhh," he groaned, rubbing the side of his head. The deep-pile carpet was nice, but sleeping on it was ultimately still not comfortable. It was also unfulfilling, and he was terribly tired.

He looked over at the clock on the table. It was mid-morning still. He sighed and swore quietly. It was too good to last.

With uncanny timing, the door to Nick's room was rapped gently a few times.

Hesitantly, Nick answered this time, feeling still horribly weary and even slightly ill. He didn't have the energy to bear any resentment for Gary at this point. Their mere seconds-long clash earlier that morning was something he didn't want to recreate. Especially not now that he was like this.

Thankfully, Gary had once more opted to not be there when the door was answered.

An opaque plastic shopping bag had been left at the door, and Nick picked it up.

When he upended it on the bed, bundles of cloth fell from it, and he looked at them impassively.

Unthinkingly he swiped them to the floor, and sat down heavily. He stared at the carpet before him, eventually the image blurring into incomprehensible nothingness.

This was not right.

The next day, as the clock edged towards seven in the evening, Gary sat in his computer chair, though the computer was off and the keyboard moved to the side. He hadn't seen Nick all day, so he'd had plenty of time to himself. Mostly, he'd squandered it playing video games, the way he often wasted his spare time, but at last he'd decided to do something productive.

So he was reading. For once, not from a monitor.

Doctor Czejak had compiled a quick handbook for him; a few guidelines for trying to handle Nick peacefully.

It was an interesting idea, but Gary almost wished the good doctor had just not bothered. The problem was that many of the little bullet-points were seemingly crazy, or poorly explained; if explained at all! The first paragraph itself drove Gary absolutely wild.

"Don't wonder about the why of any of this," it read infuriatingly. "One goal of yours is to have it all explained or work it out."

Gary shook his head at the offensive line and started re-reading from the top.

Some of it made some sense. "Under no circumstances take a hold of him in a way he can't gain release!" for one; nobody likes that.

But some of them seemed almost arbitrary or slightly insane. Such as, "Never demand he maintain eye contact!"

There had to be a damned good reason for most of it, reasoned Gary. But not understanding why he wasn't supposed to do some of these things made it hard to remember what responses would be appropriate and which ones wouldn't be.

Biting his lip, Gary looked closer at some of Czejak's terse wording. 'Under no circumstances' wasn't something to be taken lightly, the cheetah knew, so clearly it was important.

But why?

It gnawed at Gary! Wasn't that the whole point of being a psychologist? Knowing why someone behaves in a particular way, not just observing that they do? So why didn't Czejak explain this stuff?

"Ugh," he groaned, pressing on. "What's the damn point?"

Even if Czejak worded things as strongly as he could, Gary knew his own limitations. Telling someone to absolutely never touch something, even if they agreed to do as you said, would never have the same effect as telling someone not to touch something because it's lethally electrified. It just doesn't stick as well, and Gary was afraid that he'd step on one of Nick's many unexplained landmines sooner or later because of this.

He flicked the page over and scanned it again. Now Czejak openly admitted that despite his best efforts, Nick had never revealed everything to him. The doctor himself wasn't entirely sure why Nick had these triggers, or exactly what 'disorders' he suffered from if any. Wonderful.

Gary shook his head. He was expected to surpass a trained professional's best efforts?

He frowned. That was a passage he had actually skipped before.

"Nick has repressed quite a few memories of his life. There are times where his best, honest recollections have significant lapses. Not only have I been incapable of deducing the origination of some of these triggers, but he seems clueless as well."

"Fuck," murmured Gary, turning to the back of the book where there were a few empty pages. His 'journal' to record his 'progress'. The exam paper at the end of the week.

He had taken exams before, but not like this one. Not only was it important for him to pass for Nick's sake... his own life could be impacted as well.

The pen rested on the paper, but Gary couldn't find much to say. There had been little real interaction between them, and he wasn't sure he wanted to mention his snappy reaction to Nick's aggression earlier; a testament to his prodigious patience in the morning.

But he had to be honest. So he scribbled away, trying to fill in as much detail as he could, but the last day or so with Nick had been nigh uneventful.

He managed to pad that day out to two paragraphs.

Finally, he shut the book and sighed.

Just two doors away was a young boy he actually wanted to spent time with. He had to spend time with him. But it just seemed impossible at this point. Nick might as well have been elsewhere. The kit had no desire to spend any time with Gary. It was as he'd said that first night. Nick didn't want to be friends.

"Oh, fuck it," he growled, putting the little journal aside. But he stopped before he retrieved the keyboard. An idea had come to him.

There was another piece of electronic entertainment he suddenly wanted to break in.

Gary smiled and pushed away from his desk. The chair he was in obediently rolled backwards on its castors, and he stood. Yeah, that seemed like a good idea; he spent far too much time in his office and bedroom when he had this whole house to use.

He stepped into the hall, and paused briefly to look at Nick's door. It was closed, and there was no light beyond it. Was the kit still hiding away in there? If yesterday morning was any indication, Nick would wait until he was fairly certain he was the only one awake before trying to explore the house again.

It had been a few hours since Gary had left him the bag filled with clothes, and he could see that it was no longer at the door. Despite it all, he hoped Nick liked what he had picked out.

Descending the stairs, Gary ambled into his den, and eyed the Gamestation. It was already set up, of course. A part of him had hoped Nick would be excited about it, and try to play it instantly. It made him feel so short-sighted that he hadn't seen the kit's wholesale rejection of the device coming.

He powered the console up and snagged the glossy black wireless controller before sitting down on his much beloved couch.

The first game he tried was a fighting game. He picked it up because he remembered vaguely how much fun similar games had been for him in his early youth. Mindless, fun time-killers.

Garyhadn't used a console in years, but he was surprised to discover himself actually occasionally winning matches. It was a well-rendered and addictive game, with a wide variety of silly characters, and suddenly Gary felt much better; if nothing else, he was going to enjoy this purchase.

It was maybe half an hour and many game-overs later when he heard the shuffling of paws, and he paused the game to look back to the lobby.

"Nick?" Gary asked incredulously.

The kit was clad in different clothing than before. A red and black hooded t-shirt and khaki cargo pants of a ¾ length were in place of his original orange shirt and simple black shorts. The cheetah boy had a strange expression on his face... bitter, yet when Gary peered closer, he thought the kit looked rather wistful.

He didn't seem to know what to say either.

Gary smiled wryly. "You look good," he ventured. "They fit you really well. I guessed right."

Nick didn't look up. "Yeah. Whatever."

"... Want to play?"

"No."

Gary quickly concealed his crestfallen expression. He had suddenly hoped for a second player to practice with, since even the easiest difficulty setting had the A.I. owning him embarrassingly much of the time. "Oh. Well, what's up then?"

Nick appeared uneasy again. He even fidgeted. The kit's manner indicated he wanted to say something, yet he stood silent for well over a minute.

"Do you wanna watch?" tried Gary, indicating the screen.

After a moment, Nick nodded. But he still never looked up.

"Alright." Gary hit a button, and the virtual brawl restarted. He did his best, considering he had an audience all of a sudden, but only narrowly scraped through the round. "Damn, this game is full of it," he muttered. "The A.I. is cheap."

Nick observed quietly from the lobby, watching as Gary had his tail handed to him by the subsequent three opponents.

Finally, Gary got sick of losing and put the controller aside. "Ugh," he moaned. "I'm sure this'd be fun if I wasn't getting my ass kicked. I'll put on the other game."

As he leaned forward however, Nick moved, taking a single step down into the den. "Hold on," the kit said brazenly. "How do you play this?"

Gary felt his heart leap. "Oh? You want to play?"

"No. Just want to know how."

Now his heart fell face first. "Ah. Well... it's kinda complicated." He tossed a small booklet to the edge of the couch nearest to the cub. "There's the manual if you want to have a look."

The kit shot him an odd look, and approached the booklet. He picked it up and stared at the detailed cover-art.

Gary quickly swapped the discs and sat down again, waiting for the system to load the new game. Only then did he notice Nick's supremely bemused expression. "Nick? What's wrong?"

Nick was holding the game's manual as if he didn't know what to do with it. "What did you throw me this for?" he asked, flipping to a random page and frowning at it.

"It's a manual..." Gary said slowly. "You read it and it'll tell you how to play the game."

"Read it?"

"Yeah."

The kit spent a few moments staring vaguely at the page he'd opened to. His face remained perfectly blank, and behind him, his tail was still as a stock.

"Nick, can you read?"

"... No."

Gary stared at him steadily. "Really?"

"I just told you, didn't I?" Nick closed the manual and tossed it back onto the couch.

"Oh," murmured Gary, taken aback. "Uh, sorry. I've never met an illiterate fur before."

"A what?"

"Someone who can't read or write." The grownup frowned. "Well, uh, never mind the manual then. New game is on now anyway."

The new disc was a racing game; one Gary had selected specifically because of its wonderful graphics. It had truly jaw-dropping visuals, and since he was no real expert on racing games, that was all Gary had to go on.

"I really should've gotten something more my type of game," he muttered as the title screen appeared.

Nick looked at the screen. "Why the hell didn't you?"

"I bought these games for you, Nick, remember?" Gary chortled. "Not for me. I've got my own stuff anyway."

After losing his first race on the 'very easy' difficulty setting, Gary groaned once again. "Oh for Christ's sake, I'm terrible at this." Racing and fighting games were not his strong-suit at all. He was far more of an R.P.G. gamer. He scratched his muzzle quickly before turning again to where he had last seen Nick. Much to his surprise, he was still there. "Have you never played a video game of any kind before?"

"No."

Gary grimaced. "Damn. That sucks."

"... Whatever."

As Gary attempted another race, he saw out of the corner of his eye that the kit was watching the screen intently. The race was hectic, and Gary sucked at it terribly, as obnoxious rap and metal music blared over the sound of crunching metal and howling car horns.

"Move to the other side."

The sudden dialogue made Gary jump. He turned his head once again; Nick was pointing slightly at one side of the screen. "What was that?" he asked, confused.

Nick looked at him fleetingly, then he once again stared at the screen. "Move to the other side of the road."

Gary did so, but was still confused. "Okay, but why?"

"Corners will be easier."

And they were. Nick had indicated to Gary that he should move to the outside of each turn, and the resulting smoother corners allowed Gary to gain a significant amount of distance on the A.I. car in front of him. He felt a little embarrassed when he realized how obvious this was.

"Oh." He coughed. "Thanks. I should've thought of that."

But Nick didn't say anything. He just continued to watch the race with a perfectly blank expression.

It didn't take long for Gary to win this time. He'd been doing so horribly because he kept trying to take the sharp, hair-pin corners on the inside, resulting in him going right off the road and into walls. The curt advice Nick had given him had allowed him to suddenly dominate the A.I. without challenge.

He grinned as the screen proclaimed him the victor. "Hell yeah!" he said, chuckling. He glanced quickly at Nick, but he seemed to be staring at the screen almost unseeingly.

The next race was an utter joke. The simple advice Nick had provided him had, embarrassingly, armed him well enough to come first every lap while barely paying attention.

Before he could thank the kit, he heard his cell phone ringing from his upstairs office.

Groaning, he stood and placed the controller down on the couch. "Who the hell could it be at this time?" he wondered aloud, walking to the lobby.

Nick gave the grownup a wide berth, stepping into the lounge to avoid getting too close to Gary as he made his way upstairs.

Gary never commented, but just mounted the stairs and headed to his office. Dimly, he perceived that Nick would prefer him not to mention this behavior of his. He snatched up his little black phone and hit the answer key.

It was a workmate, who promptly begged him to come in tomorrow.

"Whoa, hold on, Jared," Gary interrupted his co-worker, beginning to pace the carpeted office impatiently. "I really can't come in. This is me using my vacation hours anyway... I'm looking after a foster kid for God's sake." He listened as Jared responded, obviously disappointed. Jared was as much of a friend as Gary had amongst his workmates, and they really did enjoy one another's company. "Yeah, I know. I really can't... seriously. I can't leave the kit alone or anything. Alright, yeah, I'll log in and see what I can do off-site. See you soon."

He hung up and tossed the phone back on his computer chair, biting his lip gently.

Upon agreeing to this, Gary had told his employer he was going to be totally unavailable for a short period. But if his boss got spiteful enough, he could lose his job; and his boss was spiteful. He was already taking a blow to the paycheck, by giving up overtime and living off puny holiday pay for this.

Swearing silently, he popped quickly into the bathroom to wash his face - worrying about this would have to come later. He felt tired, but he wanted to go back downstairs and keep playing. The racing game was a lot more fun now that he knew how to win, and he should technically be spending as much time with Nick as possible.

Back in the lounge, he found Nick actually seated on one of the comfy chairs, staring pensively at the GameStation itself. Naturally, Nick was as far from where Gary had been sitting as possible. Once more, his expression was hauntingly blank.

"Sooo," Gary ventured, walking towards his couch. "What're you thinking about, Nick?"

The kit glanced sideways at him briefly, before looking down at the floor. "Nothing."

Gary nodded and sat down, picking up the controller again.

Nick crossed his legs and picked absently at the hem of his new ¾ length pants. Interestingly, Gary had bought him something that didn't cover the electronic tether. Nick had to wonder if that was deliberate. So Gary could make sure Nick hadn't pried the device off or anything. Or maybe he enjoyed embarrassing the kit by keeping it visible.

He gazed at the winking green light on the anklet's side.

It had been a weird day. A day Nick was ashamed of. He had given in too many times-the pizza, the clothes, and now here he was contemplating playing the fucking game-thing Gary had bought. It was hard to believe he was even staying in this room.

All this because of Czejak.

It was some time later that Gary yawned widely and stood to turn the console off. "Alright, I need sleep," he mumbled.

"Whatever," grunted Nick, scarcely looking up. He too felt sleepy again. His eyes were sticky and he was having trouble focusing.

"You want to play this or anything? I know you'll be awake for a few more hours at least."

"No!" Nick shot him a brief irritated glare. "Stop that."

Gary almost sighed, but he managed to keep the frustrated groan inside. He rubbed his eyes briefly, and made a quick decision.

He decided to confront the kid.

"Nick," he said. "I gotta talk to you about this."

Nick sighed deliberately. "What?!"

"I get that you don't want anything from me. Or anybody. I don't know what your reasoning is, but if it's what you want to do, then whatever." Gary shrugged exaggeratedly. "But it's all down to you. At the end of a few weeks, you can leave if you want. So why don't you just take advantage? You'll get more freedom, better meals, and be more comfortable than you'll ever be in the shithole you left."

Nick briefly tensed his paws into fists, but he didn't say anything.

"If you're not interested at the end, fine. But at least give me a god-damn chance." Gary turned off the console and television. "I invited you into my home for this time because I wanted to give you a chance. I wouldn't invite you here if I didn't want to help you."

"I don't want your help!" hissed Nick, getting to his paws and heading to the lobby, swinging behind the sofa as he did so, to keep it between him and Gary. "I don't want anything. Shit!"

"Your call, Nick. All I'm saying is give me half a chance." Gary shook his head and placed the controller down on top of the console. He moved past Nick and was almost at the stairs before the kit responded.

"Chance for what?" Nick demanded, though he sounded less sure of himself.

Gary stopped and looked back over his shoulder. "A chance to prove I'm not a dickhead; and to do what you're here for us to do. G'night."

Nick swore as he watched the grownup casually go upstairs to his bed.

He stared down at his paws for a few moments.

His throat went dry.

What had Gary meant by asking for a 'chance'? Why did it matter to him? Why was he trying to 'give' Nick so much?

And why had he got Nick to come here? What was this all about?!

The kit actually stumbled, putting a paw out to steady himself against the wall as an unsettling possibility dawned on him.

Could Gary possibly be trying to win him over... for adoption?

He stared up the staircase, gaping slightly in a peculiar mix of amazement and fear.

Mostly the latter.

As the sun was just starting to rise for another day, Gary had a protracted shower in his embarrassingly lavish master bathroom. It was a wide room, with pristine white tiles illuminated by a rather large skylight. There was a subtle glitter, nearly impossible to detect, on almost every surface. Gary kept his bathroom clean, mostly in honor of his mother, who had been possibly the worst neat-freak he'd ever met.

When he'd finished, toweled off every inch of his spotted fur, and had pulled on pants, he then had to start on brushing his teeth.

It wasn't like he conducted this ritual in full every day. But when he did, he made sure to do it right. He stood shirtless before the steamed mirror, scrubbing his sharp teeth while he grinned hugely at his own reflection.

It was a relaxing little ceremony, really. A loooong hot shower, with plenty of conditioner for his fur; followed by extensive brushing of his white, sharp incisors, and a gulp of powerfully minty mouthwash; and next up, he took care of anything else his fur needed! Took time, but it paid off.

He often meditated on things as he did this, and this time was no exception. He worried about Nick. Had his little speech to the prickly kit last night just made things worse? Nick seemed the type to dig his heels in if pushed, or push right back. But admittedly, last night he didn't seem too pissed off. Though Gary knew he may very well have made the mistake as old as time, and let the sun set on an argument - even if it was a minor argument. Or barely an argument at all.

Reaching over for the mouthwash, he stopped and stared at his own body. It reminded him, all of a sudden, of how Nick had abruptly torn his shirt over his head mid-conversation only yesterday. Not only was that a weird thing to have happened, but Gary...

Well, his own body was pretty well taken care of. Gary never really thought of himself as a narcissist, but he'd always wanted to keep himself in good shape-and he had managed to, he believed. His somewhat frequent visits to the gym near his work kept him lithe and toned, and he was covered in a layer of well-kept, healthy fur. But looking at it now reminded him, bizarrely, of the kit he was suddenly saddled with.

He found himself chuckling. Despite it all, all he'd gone through, Nick was a good looking boy. Though he definitely needed to persuade the kit to make good use of the conditioner he'd left him in the guest bathroom - for some reason, Gary didn't suspect that they provided quality fur-care products in that detention center. In fact, the acrid stink of Nick's orange shirt sort of implied that he never really showered much there anyway. Gary hoped could get the boy to change his indifference to personal grooming. If nothing else, if he accomplished that he'd have helped the kid at least a little.

Gary finished up and went downstairs to grab a morning coffee and breakfast, stopping by his room to put on a simple brown t-shirt to complement his blue jeans. As usual, he simply made a coffee and a sandwich, before climbing back upstairs to plop himself in front of his computer - where he customarily spent most of the day.

He paused by Nick's door to listen, but there was total quiet beyond it. Biting his lip curiously, Gary stooped to place the coffee on the floor, and lightly tapped on the door. No response.

Pushing open the door a little, he saw Nick was indeed in there. The kit was huddled into the corner of the room, by the window overlooking the street.

He was fast asleep, leaning on the two down-filled pillows from the bed that he propped up against the wall, a few feet from the windowsill. Unsurprisingly, once again he had ignored the bed, but he had torn the pillows off and messed the sheets badly. Strangely, Gary considered that an improvement.

The boy was slumped in the corner, with his back to the wall, his knees tucked in to his chest and head resting comfortably on a pillow. The slender shoulders rose almost imperceptibly as he took soft, shallow breaths. His face was so different when he was asleep, Gary noted. It wasn't hard or suspicious. But it wasn't serene either. He seemed to be faintly frowning in his sleep.

Gary swallowed quietly. There was no denying it; he had to confess that Nick was cute like this. It was hard to believe the cub dozing before him with that mildly anxious expression was the troubled, feral child he was so badly concerned about.

Now Gary found himself wanting to take a picture - God knew if he'd ever have the pleasure of witnessing such a scene again. He had caught the kit at a wonderful moment of vulnerability, and managed to see him for once at peace, or the closest thing to it he'd ever seen the boy achieve. It brought an odd, warm feeling all over him.

But he didn't take any pictures. Instead he shut the door with a melancholy sigh.

It troubled him that Nick was so adamant about refusing things as simple as a bed from him. It made no sense. Nick had accepted food and shelter, and occasionally even weathered Gary's company. But he seemed to fiercely resist accepting some things. As if offering him these things was just 'asking him too much.' Crossing some sort of line that Gary couldn't fathom.

And it mattered. Though Gary knew it was a little pathetic - maybe even immoral - to try and gain Nick's trust and favor through giving him things, but it wasn't that simple. If Nick wouldn't accept simple things like these, he would never accept Gary into his life and heart. It meant there was a barrier, and Gary's strategy was to chip away at the barrier's foundations before making any big moves.

That was his strategy anyway. He wasn't sure he had the patience for it. Or the time. But it made sense to him at least. Not much did about this whole situation.

Retrieving his warm, caramel colored coffee, Gary headed to his office, shutting the door behind him.

As he sat on his computer chair, he started to hear the first drops of rain on the roof. He glanced out the window and watched as the light shower slowly built up. In only a few minutes, it was raining respectably, flattening the lawn outside and obscuring the view of the distant houses and trees from his office. Smiling, he booted up the computer and got right into playing his favorite online game. Nothing like whiling away a rainy day with video games, he felt.

In moments he was able to find a group of other players that were also online at this hour for whatever reason. He ended up quite distracted, time passing quickly as the rainstorm outside continued to build. Soon, there was a thick, obfuscating sheet of heavy rain that rendered everything beyond his window a fuzzy blur. It roared pleasantly, and hundreds of heavy drops pelted his window a second; the steady staccato drumming was satisfying to Gary.

Over the sound, he barely managed to hear activity in the corridor outside his office. It sounded like Nick had awoken, and had stumbled into the bathroom to go to the toilet.

It seemed like a good idea, so Gary stood and opened the office door. He wanted Nick to feel welcome to come in and maybe speak with him, though he doubted that'd work.

In a few minutes time, right enough, Nick flushed and exited the bathroom. Gary heard the quiet, almost inaudible shuffling of paws as the newly woken kit snuck up to his doorway.

And stopped.

Gary had no clue how long Nick stood there and watched him, because he ignored him for a short while, hoping the boy would enter or speak to him of his own volition, but when he finally turned around, there was nobody there.

He shook his head and returned to the game. It was only when his group disbanded, leaving him alone in the virtual world, that he felt that now was a good time for more coffee.

Gary stood, conscientiously pushing his chair in. He paused to look out the wide French-windows, appreciating the impressive cloudburst. He was fairly sure the weather channel hadn't given any warning of this one.

He headed downstairs, still listening to the steady drone of the rain. But as he stepped into the lobby, he caught a glimpse of color from his dining room. He did a double-take, at first not really spotting the kit, but he finally realized it was Nick, slumped into a corner between the wall and his mother's old, dust covered, mahogany display cabinet.

Nick had adopted a similar position to the one he'd been sleeping in: knees drawn to his chest and wrapped tight by his skinny arms. He seemed to be staring vacantly at the floor just in front of him.

"Nick?" Gary asked, stepping into the unused dining room. "Are you alright?"

The kit didn't respond. Never even blinked.

"Nick?"

"Go away," the boy grumbled. He raised his face briefly, and he looked haggard and exhausted.

Gary, unfortunately, didn't. "You look like hell, Nick!" he exclaimed, shaking his head. "Shit. Not sleep well?"

Nick glared at him balefully, but his expression seemed to slowly become confused and wary, and he averted his gaze again. He shook his head.

Gary was about to ask him why not, but suddenly the blood drained from his face and he stared at Nick in mild horror. "Oh holy shit," he gasped. "I didn't feed you at all last night, did I?"

Before even waiting for a response, Gary darted into the kitchen, cursing to himself. Some of the lunch meat he had used earlier to make his sandwich was still in its packaging, so he snatched it up and marched right back into the disused dining room with it.

He couldn't believe he'd completely forgotten. He was so unused to the idea of looking after another, it slipped his mind totally. He felt like an incredible moron. Worse - an irresponsible jackass.

"Here!" he said, proffering the packet of seasoned chicken to the kit. "Take this for now, I'll make you something more substantial soon, okay?"

Nick just gave him a long suffering sigh.

"Come on, Nick, please?" Gary bit his lip. "Just eat something."

There was a long pause while Nick seemed to be ignoring him. The only sound seemed to be that of the pounding mid-morning rain. "Why?" Nick suddenly grunted. "What do you care?"

Gary raised an eyebrow. "Nick, for shit's sake, the whole reason you're here is that I'm supposed to look after you." He dropped the chicken at Nick's paws, and the kit scowled at him darkly. "Remember what I said last night, Nick. You don't have to stay here or anything. But while you are here, please let me be a proper host, okay?"

Nick briefly paused to pick at his sneakers. "... Host?" he repeated, staring at his tattered shoes.

"Sure. I'm the host, you're the guest. I've got responsibilities to you."

"... Guest?"

"Yeah." Gary frowned briefly. "Nick?"

"What?"

"Seriously, are you alright? There are times where you look like a total zombie."

Nick scratched at his knee. "I'm fine, okay?" The kit seemed to be nervous, and Gary realized he had literally backed him into a corner, so he stepped wide to the left. "I just wanted to sit somewhere else."

"Alright." Gary walked away, back to the kitchen to make another cup of his favorite morning beverage. "Just lemme know if you need anything, alright?"

Nothing in response. Gary groaned again internally and decided to leave it alone for now.

When the adult had gone back upstairs, Nick continued to stare at his sneakers, picking away at the damaged rubber soles. Making the damage worse and worse, but he didn't care.

It made no sense. None of it. He was trying not to think about it, but his brain wouldn't shut up, as usual.

Why had Czejak arranged this? What was the point of this experiment? So far, nothing had been explained to him at all. Like an idiot, he'd agreed to this without getting any answers.

He clenched his paws into small fists. He was told this was an experiment, but he wasn't seeing anything that looked like an experiment to him. Was it just a lie? Just a cruel trick to get him into another foster home with, of all things, another fucking cheetah? What was this shit about "three weeks" anyway?

He ripped off a sizeable strip of leather, gaining some satisfaction as he heard the stitching that attached it to the rest of the shoe split away with an unpleasant tearing sound.

"Fuck," he quavered, closing his eyes with a weak sniff.

Was it a trick...? Had Czejak really...?

It was true this was nicer than the detention center. But there was a reason Nick hated the idea of being adopted. Why he'd sooner die than re-enter the foster-care system. Why he'd rather starve almost every day, looking forward through the alcohol- and more- induced haze to that one incredible meal that he could sit down to with his friends. He'd even prefer the cold, lonely streets.

There was a reason he wanted nothing to do with foster parents. Being shunted from one uncaring asshole to the next as if they were just 'trying him on for size'! Being told to give control of his entire life to shit-heads that didn't even know him! And Gary... what was going on with that guy?

Czejak had hinted at the possibility of adoption here. Nick had agreed to come, but only because the detention center was... he had been close to breaking, and Czejak knew it! Was that it? Did they want to take him to this point, and then while he was desperate, get him snatched up by some hapless dumb-ass that thought they could adopt him? Thought he was just a poor little crazy boy that needed 'help'?!

Nick slammed a paw into the wooden cabinet. It was made of solid wood, and despite him striking it hard, it barely even made a sound. The agony that shot through his paw completely belied the dull clunk it made, though.

"Fuck you all!" he growled, nursing his wrist. Then he bowed his head and tried to stop the tears from breaking through.

Gary was making no sense. This was all making no sense to him. Everything had pointed towards wanting to adopt Nick-the clothing, the food, even a god-damn videogame console that Nick knew he'd never be allowed to keep when he left. Yet, one moment he was saying that Nick was just a guest, the next he was fussing over the kit like a parent.

It made Nick sick. It really did. It made him nauseous and horribly uneasy.

He sighed angrily. It was possible. It was really possible Czejak had tricked him.

Just another grownup thinking he could 'help' Nick by forcing him into something he wanted nothing to do with.

He looked sourly at the bracelet around his ankle. The technological bondage they were now using to lock him up in yet another fucking 'foster-home.' Only one step away from handcuffs or a leash.

It winked at him tauntingly. That did it.

Nick got to his feet swiftly, his ears laid straight back.

"Fuck you all, you fucking assholes!!" he screamed at the top of his lungs, and lashed out with his shod paw, kicking the immaculate dinner table's leg. He smashed the side of the tether into the dark wood, again and again, causing no apparent damage to the hateful object, until he let loose a howl of frustration and grabbed a single white dinner-plate from the neat stacks on the table's top.

He hurled it at the dusty cabinet, and the plate shattered loudly on impact with a small, wooden picture frame, which fractured to the unmistakable sound of glass cracking. It slammed backwards into the cabinet, sending a small cloud of dust into the air and knocking yet more ornaments over. Some of them rolled off the wood and fell to the carpet.

The kit snarled and pointlessly slammed his fist onto the top of the unused table, swiping the empty, glass fruit-bowl to the floor violently. He kicked it into the cabinet savagely.

"Nick!" he heard Gary cry. He looked up and saw the grownup staring at him in chagrin, having quickly dashed down the stairs again at the noise. "Wh-what the hell are you doing?!"

Nick kicked the table's leg once more with his damaged sneaker. "Fuck you!" he shouted back. "I'm sick of this bullshit! I'm sick of you! You're all assholes! Let me go!"

He turned to attack something else-whatever was behind him, but Gary stepped towards him.

"HEY!" the adult yelled at him, his voice shockingly loud. "Stop that, Nick! What the hell is your problem?"

"My problem?" Nick snapped at him, starting to shake. "I don't want to be here. I never will!"

"So that's a good enough reason for you to break my stuff?" Gary looked around incredulously. "Because I get you away from that shit-hole detention center for a few weeks? Isn't that what you fucking wanted?"

Nick retreated a step. "Yeah, like I had a fuckin' choice!"

Gary stared at him for a moment. "For fuck's sake, Nick, what's the problem? You're making no sense and you know it." Then he gasped, dashing over to the cabinet. "Shit... you broke my mom's picture." He looked upwards, directly at a small white urn on the top of the cabinet, and swallowed.

"So what?" Nick said, looking away now. He started to feel foolish. "It's just a picture. Who gives a shit?"

"Nick, listen to me..." Gary began, his voice strangely tremulous. "If you're going to freak out and break things, just don't do it in here, or in the office. Do it in your room. I don't care. Just do it there."

"Don't tell me-!"

"Just do it there!" Gary snapped. He gently pushed the urn back into the middle of the cabinet.

Nick felt his heart freeze for a moment. "What does it matter?"

"Nick..." Gary turned, and his expression was dark and threatening. "I don't care if you break some shit. I knew what I was getting when I accepted you as the one I'd be taking in for a few weeks. But kid, there are some things in this house that if you break... I'll just go fucking crazy. Alright?"

Nick was about to retort when something hit him. "Wh-what you were getting?" he repeated, his voice suddenly small. "What do you mean?"

Gary eyed him for a moment, trying to calm down by taking a few deep, unsteady breaths. "Czejak told me about you, of course. I don't mind if you get angry or upset, though, Nick! Just please don't break my stuff for no reason!" He drew in another shuddering breath. "If you have a problem, talk with me about it instead of running off and hiding all fucking day before breaking shit like a fucking three-year-old. You're smarter than that, aren't you?"

Nick's mouth went dry. With a subdued sniff, he darted past Gary and ran up the stairs.

In his wake, Gary shook his head and knelt to pick up the shards of glass and porcelain. He placed the shattered picture frame on its back, and dumped the more dangerous slivers on it.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered. He reached up with a slightly trembling paw and touched the pristine white urn tenderly.

"I'll clean it up soon, alright?"

When the sun had finally set, and the pounding rain abated, Gary settled into his office to do some serious brooding.

The doctor had glossed over something that, honestly, Gary knew he should've been aware of. He had willingly accepted an unstable child into his parents' house - one filled with rage and bitterness. He had known and accepted the possibility of some clashing with the kit, and he had even been aware of the chance that Nick could cause some damage to his property. But Nick had exploded today in the one room he hadn't counted on, threatening that which he had thought safe, and had dealt more damage in half a minute than Gary was comfortable with.

At night, and even during much of the day, he had been giving the kit a totally unsupervised run of the house. But now he realized that, if Nick felt like it, he could at almost any point do something drastic.

Like, say, set the house on fire.

"God damn it!" Gary hissed angrily. "Thanks, doc, you could've told me just how crazy this little jerk really is."

But that was unfair, and Gary knew it. Nick had agreed to come here, and as messed up as he was, Czejak never said anything about the kit being murderous or psychotic or whatever. But that didn't console Gary that much; there'd already been a near-disaster. Even with a mere, spontaneous tantrum like that, Nick had very nearly...

With a groan, Gary covered his face with his palm.

If only the boy would talk to him. Let him know what was going on behind those desolate, gray eyes. If only Gary could figure out what his problems were and address them, he'd be much more comfortable with this situation. But he was not suited to being a parent, especially not of a kit like Nick - he was starting to have grave doubts now about taking on this challenge of a child. The one he was trapped with for three weeks at a minimum.

He thought it over for half an hour before he finally heard quiet paws on his carpet behind him. He had expected this visitation, but not so soon. Maybe in a day or so, but not that same evening.

"What can I do for you?" he said, turning the chair around.

Nick froze, several feet from the doorframe. He stared at Gary, actually meeting his gaze properly for a few moments.

For an uncomfortable minute or so, they both remained silent.

"Why did you pick me?" Nick suddenly blurted.

Gary blinked. Then he smiled tightly. "I didn't, actually," he admitted. "Not exactly. Czejak felt that we'd get along alright, and he suggested you first. He asked if you sounded alright, and I said yes."

"Why?"

The grownup sighed. "I'll be honest, alright?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I don't know why I picked you. Your story sounded interesting, and I wanted to take the chance to help you out a bit. Czejak said you could be mature and intelligent, and I wanted to see if we could be friends."

"Why the hell would you want that?" Nick leaned on the doorframe.

"Just did. That's how it works with friends, Nick. If you think that you might get along, you try to get along. You don't need any other reason to make friends."

Nick digested that for a few seconds. "Whatever," he mumbled, unconvinced. "What did Czejak say about me?"

Gary sighed again. He knew this was coming. "He gave me a brief idea of your life. He told me what to expect from you, and how to not piss you off. That's all."

"He told you I was crazy, didn't he."

"That word didn't come up once, Nick," Gary assured him.

Nick scratched his side, looking down at the floor again with his ears drooping almost comically. "He still said it though, didn't he?" Nick said bitterly. "They always say it."

The grownup looked at him bewilderedly for a few moments. "They?" Ah. The kit meant his psychiatrists, or maybe his social workers. "No, Nick, he really never said that in any way or anything like it."

Nick grunted softly. "What's this experiment about?"

"I've been told not to tell you too much, Nick. But I don't know that much myself, so you're in good company."

"You gonna try to 'fix' me? Is that why?"

"How? You aren't broken. I'm sorry-Czejak told me to keep quiet about the details."

"That's fucking bullshit!" insisted the kit.

"But it's true. I trust Czejak. Don't you?"

"No," lied Nick. "Whatever. I can't believe this shit."

Gary grinned at him. "Don't worry about it, Nick. At the end of the first three weeks, Czejak will explain it to us both. Until then, we just have to relax and try to enjoy the break. Make sense to you?"

Eventually, Nick nodded, though with some heavy reluctance. It did make some sense, he supposed. He'd agreed to take part in an experiment, which got him out of the center for awhile - just as Czejak promised. Whatever the experiment was, it'd end in just over two weeks from now. Then he'd have to choose which of the two fates he could suffer the easiest... staying here, or returning to the detention center. Alright.

But he was still suspicious. Were they trying a roundabout way of forcing him or tricking him into adoption? If they were, that changed things. It changed things a lot, and if Gary thought Nick's last little fit had been bad...

"Oh, and Nick?" asked Gary, leaning forwards.

"What?"

"I'm sorry I threatened you before, really. You scared me. That's all."

"... Whatever."

Gary got comfortable on his couch, pulling a white, fluffy blanket over himself and settling down to watch a movie.

Nick had been in his room since that brief, uneasy congress in Gary's office. Gary had no idea what caused him to fly off the handle like that, but when they had spoken, Nick seemed fairly calm - just a confused, suspicious kit seeking answers to perfectly reasonable questions. Just another source of confusion for him to add to the growing pile.

He honestly never expected to see Nick again that night, but as he was about to start the DVD, to watch it alone in the familiar darkness of his comfortable little lounge, he caught sight of motion in the lobby and sat up.

"Oh, Nick? What's up?"

The kit descended into the lounge. "Uh," he began, squinting at the bright television screen. He seemed a little uncomfortable and even sheepish. "Can't sleep."

Gary blinked, confused already. "Huh?"

"Tried to sleep. Can't."

"How come?"

Nick scratched his ear, wobbling ever so slightly on his paws. "Cold."

Gary asked before he could stop himself. "You're still not using the bed, are you?"

The kit looked at him impassively for a moment. "No."

"You should. It's going to get colder and colder over the next few weeks. No snow though. Just rain and wind." Gary sighed dramatically, raising his remote and hitting the play button. "Wonderful weather."

"...What are you watching?"

"Just a crappy, cheesy action flick." He lifted up and held the case out to Nick. The kit hesitated before stepping forward and taking it. "I got it recently, not had the chance to watch it."

"Seen it," Nick said.

"Oh. Any good?"

"Don't remember. Was too drunk."

"I've... heard about that," Gary replied guardedly. "How often did you used to drink?"

Nick shrugged and tossed the movie's case negligently next to Gary. "Whenever. I dunno, every night."

"Every-?!" Gary blinked. "You can't be serious."

"Why not?" Nick asked, leaning on the wall. "Not like it was any fun not-drinking."

The grownup looked at him in amazement. "What did you drink mostly?"

The kit absently reached back and grabbed his own tail. He didn't even seem fazed that he was discussing this topic - the fact Nick used to drink was as natural as wearing clothes to him, Gary realized.

"Bourbon."

Gary absolutely reeled. "Holy shit," he mumbled. There was a hiatus while he recovered. "Umm... well, okay. Look, do you want me to get you some covers or something? Or turn the heating up? So you can sleep I mean."

Nick thought about it, and shook his head. "No."

"You just gonna stay up until you're really tired?"

Nick nodded.

There was another pause while Gary wrestled with an idea. "Wait a second..." he said uncertainly. "Nick."

"What?"

Gary sighed. "God help me." He indicated his lacquered wooden drinks cabinet in the corner. "If you want... I'll give you something. It might help you sleep, and I'm concerned you're not getting enough of that."

Nick blinked rapidly a few times. "What?"

"I'll give you something to drink - but not a lot, and don't get used to it." He inhaled deeply. "But only if you'll sit here and watch the movie with me for at least a bit."

"Why?!" Nick gawped at the adult.

Gary smiled. "Because it's a dumbass action movie. I wouldn't mind some company." He stood. "Well, what would you like? Bourbon, yeah?"

The stunned kit's eyes seemed to light up. "Are you serious?!"

"Absolutely. But don't tell Czejak, please. He'll cut my nuts right off."

Nick nodded. "D-do you have any cola?" he asked hopefully.

The movie was asinine, exactly as Gary had predicted, right from the get go.

What he had done was, arguably, disgusting, but it worked. Nick was seated on the sofa with him, holding a small glass of effervescent cola spiked with a considerable amount of Gary's bourbon. Gary was no fan of the stuff himself, but he had always kept a small supply for guests and cocktails.

Nick was content, more or less, sipping from the frosty glass with undisguised pleasure. He was still on the complete opposite side of the four-seater, but it was still an improvement... even if Gary'd had to really stretch his own morals to achieve it.

Giving alcohol to teens was one thing-aside from just being illegal. Nick seemed so much older, but he was only eleven. Not that you could tell, the way he was casually raising the glass and drinking like it was cordial.

In one scene of the puerile film, the main character punched the window of a car in, to steal the vehicle.

Nick scoffed. "You can't do that," he mocked immediately.

"You can't?" Gary asked, raising his own glass of fizzing cola. His was instead mixed with excellent imported vodka, as he felt it would be remiss of him to not join Nick in drinking, but he wasn't going to be touching bourbon.

The kit rolled his eyes at the screen. "No. You'd break your paw." He took another drink. "Yo, can I have another after this?"

Gary looked at the kit, who seemed unfazed by the drink so far. "Alright, but only one more..." He sighed. This was pathetic, but he'd committed now.

Rather than looking for the keys, the protagonist had hot-wired the car in an impossibly short period of time, and started the engine.

Nick promptly snickered. "Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?"

"Huh?"

"Try that and the car isn't going anywhere. It's got an immobilizer and he hasn't turned it off. You can fuckin' see it."

Gary raised an eyebrow. "Where did you learn so much about grand theft auto?"

"My friends," Nick admitted. He was much more talkative now that he was edging towards becoming tipsy - the tips and insides of his ears were a little flushed in the warm light from Gary's floor-lamp.

Gary was honored and surprised at Nick's suddenly volubility, and stunned that the kit had actually come down to see him the way he had after the events earlier in the day. Now he was even more confused though, so he decided to just shove it all to the back of his mind for the time being.

The movie went on, and there were gunfights, blood, car-chases and sulfurous, often unnecessary, swearing galore. For some reason, Gary didn't feel that bothered Nick.

It was relatively enjoyable, Gary had to admit. Despite the occasional complaints Nick voiced, and then the further plot-holes he himself identified, it was still kind of funny. There was a corny martial-arts fight scene about two-thirds into the ludicrous movie that was particularly cool.

By the time it came up, however, Nick was half-way through his second glass, and the effects were starting to become more visible.

He seemed to be watching the screen no longer, instead staring pensively at the glass in his paws.

"Movie too boring?" asked Gary. He had been watching Nick more intently than the movie anyway.

Nick seemed to not hear him, but he did drain the rest of his drink quickly. Gary winced.

After a short pause, Nick turned to look at the grownup.

It was so weird, the kit thought. Gary was strange. He didn't speak to him the way the others had. He didn't react the way they did when he spoke. And so far, he had been much less of a dick than the other foster parents and assorted dipshits Nick had endured so far.

He focused his owlish eyes on the adult's bemused face.

Gary seemed very different from anyone he'd ever been stuck with before. He'd dealt with nice furs before; they turned out to be assholes. He'd been placed with generous furs before; they turned out to be insulting. So far, Gary had seemed... more like another friend than a stuck-up adult, he had to confess. Gary wanted to be around Nick, but as a friend, not some prick parent.

...So why was it so difficult for Nick to look him in the eye? Why did it make him flinch like that whenever he seemed even slightly angry at him? What was it that made him... disturb Nick so much?

And then he finally saw it. The alcohol had made his vision blurry, and under that effect, Nick's imagination could more easily alter the few subtle differences-and he felt a deathly chill spread through him, from the tips of his fingers to his very heart.

He looked like him.

He looked a lot like him.

It wasn't just the species. Gary looked almost exactly like Nick's last foster father.

Nick almost dropped his glass from his suddenly numb fingers.

"Nick, are you alright?" Gary asked worriedly. "You had too much or something?"

The kit swallowed and shook his head. "N-no." He was starting to shake, so he placed his glass on the couch. "I'm goin' to sleep."

Standing, Nick made his way to the lobby, and without once looking back, he climbed the stairs, entered his room, and shut the door. If Gary reacted in any way to his sudden exit, Nick had no idea.

He staggered to the bed and leaned on it, legs almost giving way.

"What the fuck...?" he whispered to himself, breathing faster and faster.

This couldn't be right. It had to be his imagination - it had to be. Had to be his crazy-ass brain. Czejak wouldn't do it. It made no sense... did it?

Nick clutched at his chest.

Gary seemed like a nice fur. Friendly, respectful and solicitous.

The problem was... so had Nick's most abusive and soulless foster parent. Who only revealed himself as such some time into Nick's stay with the maniac.

Three weeks in.

Gary was zoning out.

The steady drizzling had picked up again about mid-morning, and now he sat in his dimly lit lounge, on his favorite recliner, staring blankly at the television as it unleashed its full repertoire of infomercials and inane talk shows. It had no real effect on him this time, as he was too preoccupied.

It was Friday already. Czejak would be dropping in on them for the weekly checkup. This one was a few days early, because the coyote said he wanted to see how Nick was settling. Gary suspected it was because it was a Friday, and he visited every one of his 'subjects' on Friday, but he had placed Nick with him mid-week.

And Gary also wished to know how the kit was coping - maybe the professional could find out, because he was sure baffled.

Nick's behavior had been confusing and frustrating in the last few days, but last night they had been, more or less, pretty friendly. As much as that word could apply to Nick.

Until Nick abruptly got up and stalked upstairs. That seemed strange. But then again, Gary had no idea what "normal" was with Nick, so he could hardly say for sure.

He sighed and rubbed his nose.

It had only been a few short, uneventful days, but Gary already felt a little stressed. The kit admittedly kept well out of his way most of the time, and Gary even only had to feed him occasionally-though that in itself was pretty disturbing. But last night had driven home a simple, disquieting fact: Nick was volatile, and he could explode at any minute, intentionally wrecking Gary's property out of anger and spite.

Suddenly he heard the crunching of grit under tires, and he looked out his window. The tail end of Czejak's luxury car was visible out past his front lawn. The coyote was quite early, as always. Gary had to wonder if he ever even slept.

Gary stood and walked over to the door to unlock it. He had no idea where Nick was, but he'd have to let the good doctor in first before going to track the cub down. Hopefully, he would be getting some rest.

When he opened the door, Czejak was already beaming. "Morning, Gary!" he piped, stepping inside and rubbing his paws in a vain attempt to warm them. "Wonderful weather, isn't it? Why don't we all go for a picnic?"

"Droll," Gary replied, grinning. "Morning, Doc."

"You wouldn't happen to be able to provide coffee?" The coyote shivered. "I wasn't able to take my thermos today. This is an emergency."

"Sure can."

Some time later, back in Gary's kitchen once more, Czejak accepted the cup, holding it tightly between both paws and drank gratefully. "Oh, that's excellent." He set the cup down and smiled blissfully. "It's chilly today. I heard there'd be more rain too - more likely, sleet and hail."

"Most definitely not a day for a picnic," mumbled Gary, yawning.

"The weather aside, how's our boy?"

"I haven't seen him today, but I think he's doing pretty well." Gary grinned proudly. "I got him to watch a movie with me last night."

Czejak's ears perked curiously. "Really?!" he asked incredulously, clutching the coffee again - the chill in his paws was stubborn. "In under a week? What a thing."

"Yeah! He watched it until about eight and had to go to sleep." The cheetah frowned. "That said he must not have slept well anyway. Not heard a thing out of him yet."

"Well, well. So, what did you bribe him with?"

Gary blinked in surprise, then flushed slightly. "Bribe?"

"I assume you did, yes? It's a fairly valid tactic, especially with a kit like Nick." Czejak took a massive gulp of the steaming coffee. "All parents bribe their kids. The problem comes about when your relationship is entirely based on bribery."

"Well... uh-"

"Alcohol?" Czejak grinned wider.

Gary winced. "Err, yeah. Not much though!"

Czejak shrugged. "I trust your judgment, Gary - that's the purpose of this experiment, more or less. But do be careful. It obviously worked, but there is a reason why we don't just let kits drink themselves into stupors every night; even if it kept them out of our fur. That was one of his worst habits, and he took months to really recover from it."

The cheetah's jaw dropped. "Oh, shit, I never thought of that..." he admitted.

"I'm sure you never planned on letting him resume that habit, Gary. Just keep a careful eye on him. You could come to regret that little strategy." Czejak finished off the coffee at last. "Oh, and don't be concerned about him not coming out of his room yet. One thing I forgot to mention was that he has trouble sleeping. Not entirely sure how bad it is, but I got some hints of sleep deprivation just about every time I spoke to him." The coyote put the cup in the sink. "Shall we drop in on him? Sleeping or not, I have to speak with him. Or try to. I've got others to see after this."

As they made their way into the lobby, Czejak stopped and looked at the dining room.

"What is it?" Gary enquired curiously, pausing at the base of the stairs.

Czejak leveled a digit at the dresser, covered in glass-shards, broken porcelain and other detritus. "Nick did that?"

Gary swore to himself. "Er, yeah." For some reason he wanted to keep Nick's misbehavior quiet, or downplay it to his counselor.

"What happened?" Sighing, the coyote looked over the smashed picture frame and fragments of white porcelain. "Oh my."

"I... don't know for sure," replied Gary, fidgeting slightly. "He just was down here yesterday morning, and suddenly flipped after I gave him some chicken."

"You gave him some chicken?" Czejak looked bemused for a moment, then he sighed again. "Oh dear. I'm sorry, Gary. Don't think it was your fault."

Gary hesitated. "I wouldn't mind if he was consistent about it..." he said softly. "I don't know when I speak to him if he's going to be just all cold and dismissive, or suddenly explode on me."

"He is consistent," Czejak said, shaking his head in dismay. "On the inside at least, even if his behavior doesn't seem to be."

"That's not exactly comforting, doc."

Czejak chuckled sourly. "It should be, Gary. It means he can be reasoned with, it's just hard. That's better than impossible, I always say." He looked Gary full in the face. "Gary, are you afraid of him?"

The cheetah was taken aback. "What?!"

"Are you?"

Gary blinked a few times, slightly confused. "Why would I be?"

"Are you afraid of what he'll do to your house? Or anything like that?"

"Well, actually..." Gary confessed, "I was just thinking about that. I never really worried about it until yesterday."

Czejak nodded and folded his arms. "Nick has never demonstrated any really deliberately destructive habits. Gary, you can't be scared of him and his volatility. He's a fur like you and I, and he needs your trust just as he needs to trust you. When he loses control, he needs you to be there for him, to take control, not to be afraid of him. You're his parent right now, whether he objects to that word or not. You've got to take control when he loses it. If you're scared of having to do that, it'll just cause more problems."

Gary closed his eyes briefly. "Yeah." He felt a little guilty all of a sudden.

"Alright shall we go speak to him?" Czejak walked to the stairway again. "Do you want to come listen in or anything? You don't have to."

"I'll let him talk to you in private." Gary grinned. "I don't want him feeling uneasy with my big nose in there. He should be able to talk to you in confidence."

The coyote nodded. "Good idea." With that, the coyote climbed the softly carpeted stairs and rapped sharply on the kit's bedroom door.

Nothing. No response.

He tried knocking again. Still nothing.

So he cracked open the door and poked his muzzle into the room. It was empty.

"Uhh, Gary?" Czejak said, loud enough for the cheetah downstairs to hear.

"Yeah?"

"He's not in his room." Czejak pulled his phone out and checked it once. Nothing. The kit was still on the premises. "That's odd." He descended the stairs.

Frowning, Gary met him at the bottom. "Never heard him leave or anything. He's still gotta be here though, right? If he leaves my block don't we both immediately get an alert?"

"Yes." Czejak shrugged. "I guess we should look for him."

"You check upstairs, I'll look around down here."

As he started his search, beginning with the living room, Gary started to feel a little anxious.

"This isn't right..." he fretted to himself, walking into his messy laundry. He spied the pile of clothes by the washer and absently noted that he was supposed to deal with that today.

Nick's hasty exit last night started to concern him now. Something just felt wrong all of a sudden. And he couldn't place it at all.

He almost went right past it. It almost didn't register, but as he was walking past, he noticed the basement door, right by the laundry, was slightly ajar. He never left that open; it was far too dangerous. The stairs were steep and the floor at the bottom was uncarpeted concrete.

As he laid a paw on the handle to pull the heavy door open, Gary froze.

For some reason, he knew he shouldn't go down those stairs. Not him.

Briskly, he marched around the corridor and up the stairs. He encountered a worried Czejak at the top, who had evidently given up searching the second storey. "Gary, I can't seem to-" began the coyote, but Gary interrupted.

"I found him," he stated flatly. "He's in the basement."

"Oh." Czejak looked puzzled for a moment, but his features slowly set into a stony, bleak mask. "That's unusual."

"Something wrong, do you think?" Gary felt a chill.

The coyote nodded and moved past Gary. "I do. You don't mind if I go speak to him?"

"Of course not."

The basement was very cool. In fact, the air was still and yet bitingly cold down there, and Czejak felt himself shivering slightly.

The light was on, spewing a sickly, yellowish glow that scarcely managed to illuminate the various boxes, exercise equipment and even disused furniture that Gary kept down there. The steady hum of a deep freezer that resided in the far corner was audible and surprisingly eerie.

Nick wasn't even hiding. He simply sat up against the freezer, his backside on the cold, hard concrete, with his arms wrapped around his drawn up knees. It seemed, unsurprisingly, that he was cold and uncomfortable.

"Nick?" the coyote called out, approaching slowly. The kit twitched slightly, as if surprised - that made Czejak even more nervous; Nick most definitely should have noticed him coming down those stairs. "Nick, are you alright? Why are you down here?"

There was no response, so Czejak walked right up to the boy and knelt down. "Nick, is something the matter?"

It took some time for Nick to lift his head and actually look at Czejak. His tear stained, matted fur made him look slightly feral, and his expression was distant.

"Are you alright?"

Nick averted his eyes. "Yeah."

Czejak groaned with exertion and sat down in front of the detached cub, holding his tail to avoid sitting on the furry mass. "Gary told me you guys watched a movie last night." He paused for a reply, but Nick just seemed out of it. "Had your usual, right?"

Nick looked at him again, mildly surprised. "...Yeah..."

"You're not going to go overboard with that stuff, are you?"

Slowly, Nick's expression became one of incredulity. "Wait... You're alright with it?"

The doctor shook his head slowly. "As a matter of fact, no. I'm not. Not in the least. I don't want to see you go down that road again." He closed his eyes. "And I'd normally try to put a stop to it. But I'm going to trust you and Gary on this. Just please be careful."

Nick was bewildered. "Why?"

Shrugging, Czejak smiled wryly at the boy. "Part of the experiment."

The kit scowled. "What's this experiment about?" he demanded.

"Nick, we can't tell you..." Czejak sighed. "I really don't want to ruin this for you."

Nick glared at him. "So if I knew, it'd be ruined?" He swore acidly. "Whatever. This is bullshit. What are you doing to me? What's going on!?"

"Nick, did something happen last night?"

"Don't change the-! What the fuck!? Don't fucking change the subject!!" The kit clutched at his face in frustration. "Doc! Fucking tell me! What's going on?" He blinked rapidly, trying to force away the bitter tears that suddenly sprang to his eyes.

"Please, Nick, hold on..." The coyote said soothingly. "You'll find out soon. It's nothing bad. I wasn't lying. After three weeks, if you're not happy, you can leave. I swear you won't come to any harm. The fact this is an experiment doesn't mean anything. You don't have to worry about that."

"Yeah, whatever. Fuck you." He growled angrily, looking away resolutely. "I don't believe this shit."

"Nick."

"What?!"

Czejak covered his face with his paw despairingly. "Have I ever lied to you? Have I ever done anything to hurt you?"

The kit glared at him with glistening, yet agate hard eyes. They were stuck at that impasse for well over a minute.

"Have I?" asked Czejak in a soft voice. "Because I wouldn't do that on purpose. You know that, right?"

Nick bowed his head at last. He cursed quietly.

"What happened last night, Nick? Why are you down here?" The kit picked at his shoes some more. Czejak noted they looked badly damaged by now. "... Nick?"

"He looks like him."

The coyote frowned. "Who looks like who?"

"Gary. Looks like... that asshole."

"I don't quite... Oh." Czejak's eyes widened. "You mean... him?"

The kit nodded.

"Oh," repeated Czejak. An uneasy sensation of nausea hit the doctor. This was horrible news. If Nick associated Gary with... "Do you mean... just because he's another cheetah?"

"No. I-I dunno. He looks like him." Nick swallowed audibly. "I-I noticed it last night. A-are they... cousins or some shit?"

Czejak shook his head. "No," he stated firmly. "Gary has no living relatives in this country. He couldn't possibly have any connection to that guy."

This was worse than even what Czejak had feared. A cold knot formed in his stomach and he looked carefully at the cub.

Every time Nick saw Gary's face, he could be seeing the shades of months of abuse, of being treated like a nothing-there was no way he could let the experiment continue if the kit was in distress.

"Nick... think very carefully here," he began, speaking slow and clearly. "Are you alright to continue with this? I'll stop it if you really don't think you can handle it. But you'll be taken back to the detention center."

There was nothing but silence at first.

Finally, Nick sniffled weakly, and his paws curled into fists. "I can't!" he whispered. "I can't go back. I can't!"

Czejak's throat suddenly felt congested and his chest tightened. "It's better here, isn't it?" he tried, hoping to convince the cub to stay. "Better than that shit-hole, right?"

"I don't want to stay here either!" Nick sobbed. "Why won't you all just let me go?! Leave me alone!"

"Nick..." Czejak shuffled just a few inches closer to the boy. "If we just give in, your life will be ruined. You can't go back to the way you 'lived' before. You can't run away. You'll run from... from this, right back into a life of hopelessness. I know this is tough for you, but if you give in, the only winners are the assholes that ruined your life and left you in the dirt. Not me, not Gary, and definitely not you; but your parents, the scum that abused you and everyone who has never cared about you. But not you. I don't want that to happen to you."

"I don't want to be adopted!"

"Nick, what you really want is to not be hurt, forgotten about or left all alone, not-"

"Why don't you adopt me then!?" Nick looked full into the coyote's face, his eyes wild and vulnerable. "Why not!?"

Czejak was taken aback, and he faltered a moment. He had never seen so much pure emotion from Nick - aside from frustration or anger. "M-me?" the doctor said, for once at a loss for words.

Nick swiped his nose with the back of his paw. "Y-you heard me!"

"Nick, if I adopted every kid I wanted to..." The coyote spread his arms wide in a helpless shrug. "But you don't want to hear excuses, do you? I can't adopt. But I can help you, and I will. If you'll let me."

The kit swore again, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. He had no words with which to respond.

"Nick..." Czejak sniffed, surprised to find himself on the verge of tears. Few kids had affected him the way Nick had. There was just something about the way Nick seemed so confused, so lost, so conflicted about what he himself wanted and needed. It tore him apart. "I'm sorry. I can't adopt you, but I can try to help."

The kit nodded, eyes still closed as his breath came to him in great shuddering gasps.

Czejak was still in mild shock. Nick, of all kits, shouldn't have been the first one to ask the middle-aged coyote to adopt them. The boy must've been terribly shaken. Though nonetheless, Czejak felt immensely honored.

"A-are you and Gary getting along alright, then?" he tried.

Nick nodded slightly. "I guess..."

"Then, what do you think, Nick?" Czejak's voice was calm and gentle. "Do you want me to cut the experiment short, or do you want to stay here?"

Nick froze up, and he just stared at the concrete.

The coyote observed quietly for a moment. "...Nick?"

At last, the kit spoke, even softer than usual, directing his words at the cold floor. "I'll stay..." he breathed. "It's better than there."

Czejak hid his intense relief as best he could. "Alright. Remember: I didn't know he looked like him, but Gary is not that fur. It's just a coincidence. I swear."

"I know..."

But it wasn't as simple as knowing that, Nick knew. At a level he couldn't understand, couldn't get a grip on or control, Gary scared him.

"Alright. I'm sorry, but I have to go." Czejak stood, grunting. "At any time you need to, ask Gary to let you phone me. He has the number - he won't say no, I promise." He pulled out his wallet and took out one of his cards. "But if you're worried, here's my number. At any time, Nick. Just... have a good reason if it's two in the morning." He smiled wryly at the boy, who just looked at him blankly. "You've done well, Nick. Honestly, you've done much better than I thought you would, and it's been harder for you than I thought it would be."

Nick tentatively reached up and took the card. "H-he don't want me, you know," he murmured. "This won't work."

"Why not?"

"Because... I'm fuckin' crazy. Nobody wants a crazy kid."

Czejak fought back a sudden urge to sniff. Instead, however, he smiled sardonically. "You're not crazy. Trust me; I'm an expert on the matter. I've met plenty of crazies, and there's no way you're one of them."

Nick grunted, unconvinced. "Whatever." He stuffed the card in his new pants' pocket and sniffed to clear his nose.

"Gary wants to help, Nick. He likes you, actually. But you scare him too. He's never dealt with a kit quite like you."

"Why the fuck is he scared of me?"

The doctor smiled slightly down at the boy, stepping away a little to avoid intimidating him. "He's scared because he wants to be your friend, and he's worried he'll screw up. Give him a chance, Nick. Like I said, if nothing else, you could walk away from here with a friend, or at least having had a good time for a few weeks. You can do it. You can make this work."

The boy hung his head again, his ears flattening. He said something in a wispy, tenuous voice, too quiet for Czejak to hear.

"I didn't hear that, can you say it again?" Czejak frowned, straining to listen.

"...I'm trying..." Tears openly leaking from his gray eyes, Nick buried his face in his paws. "I'm trying..."

Gary paced nervously about his kitchen. He had thought last night had ended on a good note - not a fantastic one, but a reasonably alright one. No, a great one, considering he had only known the kit for five days!

What had he said? What the hell had he done? Was anything even wrong in the first place, or was the little maniac just down there for the hell of it? ...It didn't seem like that for some reason.

Just when Gary thought he could handle it no more, Czejak padded contemplatively into the kitchen, his expression remote. "Alright, Gary," he said softly in a drawn tone. "He's alright."

"What happened?" Gary demanded urgently.

"I'm not too sure myself," Czejak admitted. "I think he was up all night because something upset him. He just hid down there so he wouldn't be disturbed."

"Any idea what it was?" Gary swallowed. "Was it something I did?"

"No. And he's sorry he broke your stuff." Sighing, the coyote leaned on the countertop. His ears flopped pitiably. "You wouldn't happen to be able to give me another coffee, would you? I'll make it up to you."

"Andrei, I'll give you a dozen if it'll get you to explain."

Czejak smiled feebly. "That won't be necessary, Gary." He chortled. "I'm just a little... drained, for some reason."

"Is instant alright?"

"Absolutely."

Gary nodded and flicked the switch on the base of his kettle. The appliance started its slow rumble towards boiling. "C'mon, doc, what happened down there?" Gary insisted.

The coyote sniffed and shook his head. "It's nothing, you remind him of someone, that's all." He paused. "What an amazing thing."

"What?"

"Oh, just thinking aloud." Czejak wiped his nose. He had obviously been crying, or close to it, down in that basement. "It upsets me, Gary. There's often only so much that I can do for these kids. It hurts when you realize you can't do more, and that it might not be enough."

Gary was baffled. And he wasn't afraid to let his face clearly show that.

"Though..." The counselor grinned at him wanly. "You are in a position to do more. I only pray you make the right choice."

"I hope you know that you're confusing the hell out of me." The cheetah scooped some pungent coffee granules into a mug before retrieving milk from the fridge. "You're not going to explain any of this, are you?"

"Not really," confessed Czejak. "But it won't be necessary for you. Be careful to not intimidate Nick too much, that's all. He's... far more sensitive that you might think."

Gary poured the water, stirred the instant coffee and milk in then handed the beverage to the psychiatrist. "Alright. But what is the right choice, then? What am I choosing?"

Czejak took the mug and smiled widely at the cheetah. "I have no idea." He took a reverent sip. "But you'll know. You'll know well before I do." His expression became scornful. "God, I hate being all mysterious."

"I hate it even more. Believe me." Gary sighed acerbically. "Can't you please tell me anything?"

"I'm afraid not."

The coyote left after that final cup, stepping out into the chilly morning air again. The sky was dark, and the sun was fully obscured by heavy hanging clouds, as black as night itself. Expressionlessly, Czejak opened his car door.

He sat down on the cold leather, and stared listlessly at the empty street before him.

The wet, black road stretched on until it dipped over a hill, outlined against the murky, obscure horizon. Brief flashes of thunder sparked and twisted in the storm clouds above, as the first drops of rain started to hit the roof of Czejak's car.

With a soft thud, the coyote's head hit the top of his steering wheel.

And quietly he cried.

** End of Chapter 2**

• Kichigai Kitsune, 2011