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

---

Week Two - Illusions

Despite the evening chill settling outside, the house was very warm.

The lights were out in the cluttered den, and the old television whined quietly as it played the video they'd put together just last night.

Nick pulled the brown, itchy blanket tighter around his skinny frame and fidgeted. It was hard to sleep. The others weren't letting him, for one thing, and everything was spinning slightly from the alcohol. He drifted in and out of slumber, continually yanked away from the blessed world of somnolence by the whining television and ceaseless chatter of his friends.

By his dangling, slender arm, beside the old, decrepit couch he half-dozed upon, was his half-empty bottle of bourbon and a tall glass, surrounded by debris and litter; empty takeout containers, paper bags, wrappers, dirty dishes...

The tumbler would no doubt get further use when he recovered. He'd gone a little too fast. That was all.

There were three others in the cramped, unkempt den.

Chase was the closest to Nick's age, and he sat on the couch, at Nick's feet. The thirteen-year-old clouded leopard was a runaway - a term he hated with a passion. Nick didn't know too many details, just that Chase's father was an asshole who liked to take his frustrations out on his son. One day, Chase didn't know why, but his father came home and went completely crazy. Worse than usual. After a night of recovering and thinking, Chase realized he had no choice. It was time to go, and fast.

Much as Nick had done, he survived alone on the streets for some time before he encountered Kyle.

Kyle was a sixteen-year-old coyote, and had been friends with Chris, the owner of this sorry home, for the longest. His story, as with Chris's, had not really been revealed to Nick; nor did he really expect to ever hear it. Kyle was a pragmatic fur, but he always seemed a little unstable. Nick had seen him angry before - it reminded him of his mother, actually. But it was far rarer, and Kyle never took it out on him. Kicked walls, broke things in crazed frenzies, but never raised a fist against his friends. In fact, he was quite protective of them. Very protective.

Finally, there was Jack: a boisterous seventeen-year-old malamute with intimidating dark markings around his face--and an incorrigible vandal. His tale was no secret: he had been disowned by his distant parents, because he was a volatile criminal. After his second stint in juvie, he'd been simply kicked out. The only fur Jack seemed to respect was Chris. However, he was getting better--since Nick had lived there, Jack had never caused the household any big problems.

Something pricked his foot-paw, which for some reason wasn't protected under his heavy blanket, and Nick grunted. "Ugh..." he groaned, his paw twitching involuntarily. That kept happening. What the heck was it? He was too wasted to look. Everything was spinning too fast.

Chase smiled to himself, and brushed the exposed paw again with the uncurled paper-clip. He stifled a snigger as Nick twitched once more.

The marble-furred leopard was affectionate, and had a cheerful disposition. His life had been hell- all of theirs had been- but Chase was kind, friendly and adventurous in spite of that. As much as he'd never confess it, Nick really liked the guy. They got along very well, despite their contrasting attitudes.

But right now, the cheeky leopard was taking advantage of Nick's drunken stupor.

Once again he brushed down the sensitive paw.

"Unh!" Nick sat up slowly and ungainly. He glared at Chase with unfocused eyes. "What-?" he slurred, his head wobbling drunkenly.

Chase, of course, was looking innocently at the television. Confused, Nick flopped heavily back down and tried to snuggle up beneath the blanket. Naturally, in less than a minute, Chase had worked the brown blanket aside so he had access to that paw again.

"That's fuckin' hot," chuckled Kyle, nodding at the screen as he sat down in front of the couch. "Nice."

"What?" Chase murmured softly to avoid disturbing Nick.

"The way you guys started this one off." The teenager raised a beer bottle to his muzzle. "It's like a strip-tease. Start like that next time too."

Chase nodded and adjusted himself, reaching down to retrieve his own beer. "A'ight, whatever." He looked over at Nick. And brushed that paw again - this time, more tenderly. It still got the same response though.

"Ngh," moaned Nick. His tail flicked slightly. "Fuck off."

Kyle glanced over and smirked. But he said nothing.

However, Jack wasn't as tactful. "What is that, Chase, some new type of fuckin' footsies?" He raised a joint to his muzzle and inhaled, sprawling out on the torn suede chair beside the couch. "Leave him."

Abruptly, the drunken kit sat up again. He looked around blearily, peering through the hazy, thick smoke at his friends.

"Hola amigo." Jack grinned. "How ya doin', piss-head?"

Nick leaned forward and held out a quivering paw. "Yo..." the ten-year-old grunted weakly at the canine.

Jack passed him the joint immediately, and the cheetah inhaled. He held the pungent smoke in his lungs while he handed it back. Generously, Jack then handed it to Chase and Kyle. There was no shortage of the stuff in this house.

In fact, an associate of Jack's supplied them with an ample amount of marijuana, as well as the occasional harder substance. Nick had encountered the guy several times before, and while he was grateful for the weed, he found the burly, abrasive jaguar to be a total asshole.

Just another asshole adult Nick would rather not deal with.

The front door rattled suddenly, and the final member of the household stepped in.

Chris was the eldest by far. A powerfully built wolfhound, Chris was in his mid-twenties. He was the respectable one of this home, so to speak. He had a job, albeit a worthless one that paid dirt, and it was thanks to him that they all even had this home, running water, gas or electricity. He put everything together.

He'd had, as he put it, an eventful life, and he was far tougher than he looked. He took no shit from anyone.

And Nick owed him his life.

When there was nowhere to turn, no future for him to go towards and no home to return to at night, Chris had taken him in. He gave Nick a home, a bed - or rather, couch - and even supplied Nick with the means to forget about his past. All he asked in return was for Nick to help with his 'home business' to bring a little income into the house.

Which the cheetah boy didn't mind. Some may've called it exploitation - and to be fair, perhaps that was correct. But it didn't compare to what he'd already been through. It was friendly and even enjoyable, and he was given a surprising amount of respect for such a young kit in the company of these hard-bitten teenagers. They'd all had their share of troubles. Their ages didn't matter - their common experiences and the hardships they all had shared in... those mattered.

They were his friends. It wasn't the same.

And frankly, he was well paid for it, so what the fuck ever. He was fine with it. It was easy for someone to say that what Chris was doing was wrong, but in return he gave Nick a warm place to sleep at night. That was more payment- for anything- than Nick could even think to ask for. There wasn't much Nick wouldn't do for the chance to stay off the streets.

"'Sup," Chris greeted them, dumping his keys on the coffee table as he joined everybody in the den. "Huh, this the one we did yesterday, right?"

Kyle nodded. "Yeah. It's fuckin' real good." He grinned. "Having trouble keepin' myself under control, if you know what I mean."

Chris shrugged. "Well the stars are right there, help yourself - they won't mind." He gestured at Chase and Nick.

Both of them flipped him the bird.

Jack snickered hoarsely. "Look at Nick. Look at this, acting like a porn-star with that fuckin' thumbtack. It's like watching a scooter in the grand prix."

"Yeah, yeah," mumbled Nick. He'd heard it all before by now, and was way too tanked to make an issue of it. Instead, he reached down to the pocket of his dirty gray tracksuit pants and withdrew a black leather square. "Chris..."

Without comment, the big canine took the wallet and started to rifle through it. "Sweet." Grinning, he withdrew a twenty-dollar bill from it and handed it to Nick, before pocketing the wallet.

"When did he get that?" Kyle demanded in a slightly confused voice.

"When we went down to get food last night." Jack took a mighty drag from the joint. "Some drunk fuck. Nick lifted it at the counter when we were leaving. Guy had no fucking clue. Didn't even see him."

The teen coyote looked at the ten-year-old with a fair amount of admiration. "Didn't have to run for it this time? Holy shit, he's getting good at that."

"He got a good teacher," responded Jack without a trace of humility.

"Shift it," Chris pushed on Chase's shoulders, and the teen grunted, shunting along the couch.

Nick obligingly pulled his legs in, but Chase smirked and pulled the kit's ankles over his lap. He tugged the blanket over them, holding the skinny limbs tight.

The cheetah just shot him a flat, dizzy stare. Then he sighed and let it pass, reaching down to paw pathetically around for his bourbon. With a glass of straight, tepid spirits, he rested his head back on his pillow against the couch's arm to watch the home-made porno while he continued to recover. He was already buzzing from the weed, tingling all over - strong stuff.

His breath caught slightly. This was the one in the bathroom that they'd recorded yesterday - as he usually was, he was paired with Chase. They were the closest in size naturally; though sometimes Chris put him with the older guys. Tended to hurt a little at first but he wasn't weak enough to even comment about that.

"You don't want any cola with that?" asked Kyle, standing. Nick shook his head, lifting the glass to his muzzle. The kit made only the slightest face as he downed the spirits straight. "Whatever. Don't throw up on the carpet." With that, Kyle went to acquire another cheap beer.

Nick held his breath and took another sip of the bourbon, returning his attention to the screen.

As he watched the video, downing his alcohol, he felt a twinge in his lower stomach, and an odd glowing sensation soon followed. There was no use denying what he liked.

Nonetheless, he was startled when he felt Chase's paw creep up to rest on his crotch, beneath the blankets. He shot the teen a mildly astonished glance, but Chase's face was shyly averted, expressionless. Nick decided to stay quiet, and he turned his head back to the television. It was nothing new.

Now the video had reached the part where Chase had him leaning on the bath's edge. Chase was always so oddly gentle. It actually annoyed Nick. He wasn't weak.

As the action heated up on screen, and the others continued to watch, Chase started to massage the front of the cheap cotton pants, seeking out Nick's most sensitive part. He kept his eyes on the screen, as if trying to hide this from the older guys. But they knew - Nick wasn't foolish enough to think they didn't. It was probably why they were always paired up. He wondered if Chase realized that or not.

With a sigh, the cheetah relaxed, letting the affectionate teen do as he pleased. He wouldn't stay above Nick's clothes for long.

Nick still couldn't believe it. Here he was, surrounded by friends in a comfortable, if otherwise nothing special, home, and receiving warmth, respect and deep affection beyond any he'd ever received... and getting pleasantly drunk, of course. Only a handful of months ago, he'd been living on the unfriendly streets, enduring the cold and the wet as best he could, nothing to look forward to but the next pointless day, or perhaps death. But no more.

Nick didn't have to be scared anymore at night, or lonely, or cold.

No matter what anyone else said, what they called "right", the last few months had been the happiest of Nick's life.

He never wanted them to end.

---

As always, Doctor Andrei Czejak had much on his mind.

It was always advisable to maintain a little personal distance, so to speak, in his line of work. But Czejak refused to do that. And now, after visiting a batch of "test subjects", he felt exhausted as he slumped in his consultation room.

It didn't help that the heating had been set rather high and he felt himself actually nodding off in his chair. At least this time, he wouldn't be discovered napping on the therapy couch.

The oaken doors were knocked briefly, and Czejak wearily asked who it was.

"Just me, doctor!" chirped his secretary.

Groaning, Czejak straightened up in his chair. "Come on in, Karen."

The floppy eared lapin pushed the door aside and strolled over to the doctor. "How're you feeling?" she asked solicitously. "You look terrible."

"Still tired, nothing new." Czejak smiled wanly at his secretary.

"That's the problem, doctor. I've worked here for four years now - this is something new." Karen handed him a thin brown package. "This came in for you earlier. Not entirely sure what it is."

Czejak took it and dropped it unceremoniously on his wide desk. "More paperwork. I'll never know why they don't just email them. This little experiment we're working on is still generating paperwork by the bale every day."

"It would. Most people would be less than comfortable knowing what we're doing."

"Delicately put." Czejak eyed the package with extreme distaste. "Tedious busybodies and ignorant self-righteous jackasses. Their fragile egos demand others' adherence to their moral code; whether or not it's helpful to those that need help the most."

Karen scratched one of her large ears, looking slightly nervous. "Doctor, it's not exactly my field, but isn't a three week period totally inadequate for this sort of thing? I've heard adoptions take years before attachments are properly formed. From you in fact."

The worn coyote grinned and shook his head. "No need to be so self-effacing. You're right though, three weeks is a woefully short period. The placement can be extended."

"Then why start with this three-week minimum?"

"You already know, more or less. Some people don't want us to conduct this experiment. Others hope against hope that it fails, the benefits be damned." Czejak sighed. "But, well, baby-steps, I suppose. But most importantly, doing it this way means we have to keep a close eye on individual cases, and it obligates the kits to at least give their placement a chance."

"So you're expecting good results then?" Karen asked curiously.

"Indeed, but we've all had to be very, very careful - this is a controversial thing, after all. We selected what we thought were the adults that were most likely to build a strong, lasting rapport quickly with the kits. If things are promising, we can ask the kits if they want to stay a little longer. Maybe even permanently. Hopefully. We've come this far, after all."

Karen nodded and made to leave. She stopped after a few paces. "Well, now I have to ask," she said. "How's it looking so far?"

"Overall? Quite well, actually. In some cases, extremely well." Czejak smiled.

"Alright. So which ones are getting you so down?"

The coyote blinked a few times in surprise. "Does anything slip past you, Karen?" he asked.

Karen shrugged, her floppy ears dancing about her as a result. "Some things do. Been trying so hard to cut down on it lately, though."

Czejak snorted a laugh. Then he smiled sadly at his secretary. "It was nothing really," he sighed. "I suppose I should've seen it coming. After all, not like others I know haven't had to deal with it."

"What happened, doc?"

"Nick asked me to adopt him."

Karen just stared for a few moments. "Hold on," she mumbled finally. "You mean the nasty little cheetah? Are you serious?"

Czejak closed his eyes and firmly rubbed them. "Yes. I'm very concerned about him."

"I'm afraid I'm not all that surprised. I never expected him to ever do anything like that." Karen paused. "Is... is he alright then?"

"No idea, Karen. We'll have to see." The tired coyote shrugged and looked down at the brown envelope. "We've got another two weeks at a minimum. For better or worse. Maybe by then I'll be done with all this nonsense and can get back to actually helping patients."

It must've been hours since Czejak had left and Nick had been once more consigned to loneliness in Gary's cold basement.

The kit rubbed at his arms and stared into middle-distance, just a little dazed still. Emotionally exhausted.

He'd lost control. It was a horrible feeling, especially afterwards. But just recognizing that slight resemblance in Gary's face, especially considering the doubts and fears he'd experienced earlier that same day, had completely thrown Nick's unpredictable brain. He got... scared - and there was a sickening, resentful feeling that could only be described as 'betrayed'. It was completely irrational, but he felt that someone had betrayed him. Everyone, maybe.

Under those circumstances, he had blurted out things he shouldn't have. Admitted things he should have kept secret, even from himself. Shown weakness when that was the last thing he should have done.

But strangely, he didn't mind as much as he usually did. It was the Doc after all.

Even Czejak's matter-of-fact rejection didn't sting. Not too badly. Even as he asked it, Nick had known it was a stupid-ass request. That was beyond a boundary--an unspoken limit that had been made clear to him many months ago. It just wasn't something he should've asked. In fact, he wondered now if he hadn't just asked it to hurt his counselor. He wasn't even sure.

Just talking with the coyote had made Nick feel much better though. He'd been lost in thought, and Czejak had wrenched him out of there in moments. It was like magic.

Swearing to himself, he got to his feet. He still felt like shit, but he didn't want to stay down here. It was cold and it smelled. He had no idea how he'd managed to ignore that until now.

He clambered slowly to the top of the staircase and steeled himself before poking his head out into the carpeted corridor. Nobody was in sight, so the kit stepped out and shut the basement door.

When he reached the foyer though, he spotted Gary in the disused dining room, cleaning up the results of his spectacular freak-out yesterday.

So he stopped a few feet away and watched the grownup for a time.

It took some time for Gary to notice he had company. When he turned to dump some shattered glass in a large plastic garbage bag laid against the cabinet's side, he finally realized he was no longer alone.

"Gah!" he yelped. "Nick! God damn, don't do that. Did anyone ever tell you that you're damn quiet?"

Nick grunted softly. He looked at the respectable mess he'd created in under a minute yesterday. The formerly spotless room was littered with slivers of glass and porcelain - he had wreaked more destruction than he thought. It could've been worse too. Nick had completely lost it, and if Gary hadn't yanked him up short like that, he was going to destroy everything he could.

In a way, he was glad he didn't. Not just because Gary made it perfectly clear that he'd have responded... differently if Nick had kept going. It sucked when that happened. When he lost it like that. Sometimes he'd do really stupid shit because of it.

"Uh. Is everything alright?" Gary asked, looking concerned but uncomfortable.

"Yeah."

"You really should sleep, Nick. You're going to pass out otherwise."

Bending over, Nick retrieved a small piece of broken dinner-plate next to the dresser. Not looking at Gary, he placed it in the plastic bag. "I gotta ask something."

The grownup blinked at him. "Uh. Sure. Shoot."

Nick stood still for a minute or so, eyeing the bag of shards and debris. "Why am I here?" he asked. "What the hell do you all want? What is this all about?"

"Well... I don't really understand it myself," Gary said uncertainly, as if expecting Nick to explode immediately at those words, "but, um, Czejak and some of his colleagues are trying an experiment. Putting some kits with older furs they selected using a new way of working out their compatibility, and keep checking in every three weeks. I think."

"Com-what?"

"Compatibility. How well they get along." Gary scratched his head.

Nick scowled. "What for?"

Shrugging, the grownup leaned on the dusty cabinet. "I'm not sure." He paused before hesitantly adding, "I think they want to see if the adults will improve the behavior of the kids."

Nick snorted; he was reminded of Gary's earlier words however. "I knew what I was getting," he had said. That had hurt, a little. He kind of wanted to think that Czejak had something good to say about him, instead of just how much of a 'problem' he supposedly was.

"What happens after three weeks?"

Gary shrugged again. "I really don't know. It's up to you I think. You can go back to that detention center if you want. If not, I think you can stay here for another few weeks."

"Another few-?" Nick faltered, confused. "So... so you're not going to...? I thought..."

The adult chortled uneasily. "Oh! Nick, I dunno, buddy. It's, uh, down to you I guess." He looked about. "I, uh-"

"You don't want to." It wasn't a question.

"No, I don't know you," Gary corrected him softly. "That's the point of doing it this way, I guess. Three weeks to see if we get along, and make up my mind. Our minds."

Nick felt a little heavy, and he just stared listlessly down at the brittle fragments of broken glass. "But you don't, do you?" he murmured.

Gary sighed. He even shuffled his paws awkwardly, like Nick had just busted him doing something wrong. "I'll be honest Nick." The boy frowned. "I don't. I didn't plan on it either, and I told Czejak that. I wanted to help you, but I don't think I can be a parent. I'm not cut out for it; I've lived alone for much of my life, and I'm not even good at looking after myself. I'll just fuck things up if I pretend to be a dad. I'll help as much as I can, but the full-time job, I'm not applying for."

Nick was surprised. That was not the impression Czejak gave him. But he merely nodded; he had misunderstood. And Gary's dining room had paid the price. "Alright."

"I'm sorry, Nick. Don't take that the wrong way - in two and a half weeks, we'll see how things are going." Gary swallowed. "I don't want to give you a hollow promise, but I don't know you yet. That might change."

"Yeah. Whatever. I'm good. I don't care." His voice was nearly inaudible. Gary's honesty was quite welcome, but all it had done, again, was given him more questions. And doubts.

"I know you must've had to put up with bullshit from so many adults before. I don't want to add to that."

Nick forced himself to look up at the nervous adult's face - it was weird to see a grownup like that. As if truly concerned about hurting his feelings, or having Nick get angry with them. Not looking at him as if he was an idiot. But when their eyes met, Nick had to look away. It was just...

"Shit," he murmured, taking a few steps back. "I'm gonna go crash."

"Alright," Gary said, looking immensely relieved. "Oh, Nick."

"What?"

"I'm sorry if I said anything to upset you last night. I didn't mean to. Are you alright now?"

The kit stilled momentarily. "... I'm fine."

"Alright. Sleep tight."

It was early afternoon when Nick woke up, feeling sore and cramped from sleeping once more in the corner.

Pulling himself to his paws and yawning, he staggered his way to the bedroom door and leaned on it.

He felt like shit, but he knew he'd not fall asleep again if he tried. Not now. Groggily, he opened the door and stumbled into the corridor, heading for the bathroom.

Without delay, he spun the tap and drank thirstily from the faucet in the sink. Looking up, he saw his own reflection staring bleary-eyed back at him, and he sighed.

It was getting worse.

But at least he'd gotten a little sleep. He felt almost dead after Czejak had finally left. Just drained. His own haggard reflection reminded him of how Gary had told him that sometimes he looked 'like a zombie.' He felt like one at times.

The boy yawned and rubbed his eyes as he ambled back to his room. The house was very quiet, and the office's door was ajar - Gary wasn't in there. When he strained to listen, he heard the adult downstairs watching television.

Nick didn't quite feel like encountering the guy right away, so he shut his door quietly. He needed to think, and it wouldn't be easy like this. He still felt exhausted.

So he returned to his corner, and slid down the wall until he was comfortably sitting once more.

Last night had been very strange. It had been kind of cool to just sit there with Gary and watch that movie. Honestly, Gary had been pretty alright too. He actually listened too, like Czejak. Felt good to have someone to talk with.

Nick sighed. This was wrong. It was all wrong.

At the very least, Gary wasn't interested in 'keeping' him. That changed things. Didn't it?

With a sudden growl, he clawed at his face. Something wasn't right - something wasn't making sense. And Nick couldn't place it. He felt wrong. He shouldn't feel the way he did. But how did he feel? What was it? He wasn't sure.

But the kit was sure of something: he wanted another option. He still wanted to be able to choose-- for once.

No matter how it looked, he was still chained here. The thing on his leg had no chain, but it was his manacle; and Gary was nice, but he was still his jailer.

The sound of heavy footsteps rumbled up the stairway, and Nick perked an ear up. As expected, Gary wandered on by and straight into his office. Nick ignored that and kept thinking.

It was some time later that Gary knocked on the bedroom door, and after a few seconds Nick grunted a dour, unfriendly "What?" in response.

"Mind if I poke my head in?" Gary asked uncertainly. "Just gotta talk to you for a bit."

"What do you want?"

The door swung open and Gary stepped in. He smiled at the kit. "I thought I heard you up earlier. Um, look, I have to go shopping again, and I realized there was some stuff I didn't get you last time..." The adult's face was a little wary. "So, um, is it okay if I buy you a few things?"

Nick tugged at his damaged shoe again. "Like what?" he asked.

"Well, those. Your shoes are completely ruined. I saw them earlier and, uh, noticed they were a bit fucked up." Gary coughed. "And underwear and socks. I totally forgot them before, but like I said, you can't just wear the same ones for three-"

"Alright."

There was a pause. Gary blinked. "Really?"

Nick slumped a little, as if surrendering. "Yeah, whatever. I don't care, remember?" He snorted derisively. "S'if they'll let me keep it all."

"Um. Alright. Do you know what size you are? For your shoes?"

"No."

Gary coughed. "Um, well, how about you give me a shoe? Like you did with the shirt?"

An awkward pause, and Nick stared nervously at his nigh-destroyed footwear. "No."

"Alright, I'll guess." There was a pause. "Nick, can I ask why you don't want to remove your shoes? You've mentioned it before."

"Oh, fuck off," muttered the boy.

Gary cocked his head. "Huh?"

Nick shook his head, cursing mentally. "Nothing. I just don't, okay?"

"That's fine. I was just wondering. Alright, I'll be back in a few hours. Will you be alright? Need anything to eat?"

"No."

"Okay. See ya in a bit." Gary moved to close the door.

Nick looked up sharply. "Hey."

The grownup stopped, half out of the room. "Hm?"

But Nick just stared at his shoes again, motionlessly.

"What is it?" Gary enquired. Though still Nick seemed to be lost in thought.

At last, Nick moved. He kicked a shoe off with the other, and yanked the other off, before tossing them negligently at Gary's paws. Surprised, the adult bent to pick them up. "Oh. Alright then."

Nick sighed, crossing his legs, almost as if deliberately hiding the stained and holey socks, that may at one time have been white. He looked away resolutely, an angry frown on his features.

"Okay." Gary smiled. "Thanks, Nick. I'll be back soon."

The grownup left at last, shutting the door and leaving Nick to now pick at his disgusting socks.

Alone again, Nick held it in for as long as he could. Then he buried his head in his paws and groaned...

The front door was closed, and Nick heard it from his room. But he still didn't move.

He waited. Waited until he was certain that Gary had gotten in his car and driven away, or whatever he did. Certain that he wasn't going to come back. He waited until then before he pulled himself to his socked paws and uneasily made his way down to the foyer.

All the while trying not to think about how this was what he used to do those few years ago...

Nick had tried to think, to puzzle his way through everything, but he was exhausted. Exhausted, and his brain just kept yammering at him - thoughts were slippery and he was too easily distracted. He couldn't even be sure what it was he was trying to think about. At long last, he'd given up.

Instead, he succumbed to his restlessness. When Gary was asleep or out, he could wander this odd, oversized domicile to his heart's content. It helped to calm him down. Helped to work out some of that frustrating restiveness.

After all, it was a pretty neat house. Far bigger than any he'd been in before.

So, he paced the foyer. Then the kitchen. Next, he stalked about the living room. He pointedly avoided that disused dining area.

When he made his way into the living room for the fourth time, he stopped. "Fucking hell," he hissed, hitting the wall pointlessly.

No matter what he tried, he wasn't able to focus at all today. So the cheetah cub collapsed onto the soft couch, staring up at the high ceiling and trying to not think instead. Even that was hard.

He needed to talk with the doc. He realized that now. If he was able to talk to someone, maybe then he could at least organize his thoughts. Clear his mind a bit. Just before, Czejak had jolted him out of some kind of stupor, just by showing up. Someone to talk to...

So he sat up and scanned the room for a phone. Where did Gary keep them? The grownup had told him, but that was on the first day, and Nick was certainly not paying any attention that day.

He got up and hunted for it. He did a round of the lower level of the house before returning to the den and spotting it on the wall by the television. Where he'd just been.

"The fuck?" he grumbled. "Why would you hang a phone on the fuckin' wall?"

Lifting it up, he stared at it. There was no cord on it. He had never seen that before. Chris's house had a phone with a cord attaching it to a flat base that always resided in the kitchen; and Nick wasn't allowed to touch it, nobody was. Absolutely no one was allowed to touch the cell phone. Chris was careful with the phone bill... somebody had to care about that shit, Nick figured, and he wasn't about to call anyone.

In fact, he had never used a phone before. Seen one used, but never spoken into it. Who was there for him to speak to? He never had occasion to call anyone before... or a phone to call them with. Or the money.

He faltered, looking at the handset. Chris told him to never call anyone because of the cost, or something. What about Gary? What would he do if he found Nick using his telephone? How expensive was a phone call?

Oh fuck it. Czejak said he could, and Gary could go to hell if he didn't like it. If he ever found out.

Nick fished in his new pants for the card Czejak gave him. The number on the back was handwritten, but Czejak had made sure it was clear.

The rest of the card, however, was incomprehensible. Nick couldn't understand a word of it. There were a few more numbers, but that's all he could make out.

But all he needed was the number on the back, so he frowned at it and looked down at the handset.

So now what were you supposed to do? He started to key in the number. When he finally got it all in, he put the receiver to his ear and listened.

Nothing. He scowled and shook it slightly.

"What the fuck?" he asked nobody in particular. "How d'you know if it's working?" He raised it to his face again, trying to make sense of the myriad buttons. It wasn't working. Some of the buttons were labeled, but for all Nick knew, the writing was in German.

There were two colored buttons, however. One had a red symbol on it, the other had a green symbol; since the red symbol looked a little like someone placing a phone on a surface, and the green one just looked like the phone was sitting in mid-air...

Nick firmly pressed the green one and listened again. After a few seconds, the device starting to make an odd noise; a dull, ululating ring.

And abruptly Nick's heart chilled. "Shit!" he gasped, hitting the red button.

He couldn't.

It wasn't right. He'd never done it before! He'd never even said 'hi' to Czejak before the counselor said it to him, let alone called him up out of nowhere.

For minutes, he stared at the phone. Part of him urged his fingers to dial the number again, to get on with it, but he resisted, unsure. Tense all over. It was wrong. Another barrier - another thing that just didn't seem right. A boundary.

At last, he swore, putting the phone back on the cradle. Shit, he couldn't do it. It would just be fucking weird; especially since he wasn't even sure what to say. He just wanted someone to speak to, someone he could trust; but the doc had just been here. It was weird.

Collapsing on the couch again, Nick stared at the television's blank screen. He sighed, lying on his side and staring at the blank, black rectangle of the television, spacing out.

The incoherent rambling of his mind continued on. He was so confused. It was cold, too. The foyer and den were dark, with little light penetrating the curtains and blinds; the overcast sky outside providing the ominous promise of rain.

He hated rain. It was fuckin' cold, and puddles were fuckin' annoying. Yeah, it was nice to hear it on a roof or something; it sounded nice. But it always caused problems, especially if there was no roof for you to hear it on. If you got caught out on a rainy day, even if it stopped raining later, it was so fuckin' cold that it just sucked. Nick remembered trying to sleep, clammy and wet through... that was shit. Especially if you wanted to sleep and some fuckin' puddle was creeping up to you.

It was cold in the den. A blanket would be cool. As in, it'd be warm, but cool. Why the fuck did everyone say 'cool' anyway? It's like, if someone bought an awesome electric heater or something, and said it was cool - the fuck?!

Nick sighed. He wanted a blanket or something to just fucking lie under. Then maybe he could turn on the TV and watch it under it, the way he sometimes did at the house. Only without anyone to talk to. Shit.

Wait a second...

If he could remember Chris' number... he could call them. The cell phone! He was finally in a position to speak to them again! Getting back to the house was impossible - Czejak had driven Nick to the middle of nowhere; a different town, so he had nowhere familiar to run to. But after so long... it had been so long since...

He could talk to them again! All he had to do was try to remember the wolfhound's phone number! Chris told it to him, said to call from a payphone or something if he had to. Like, if he was stabbed and dying in a ditch or something like that.

The cheetah cub sat up. He had to remember the number. This was before he'd been sent to the 'center'... before he really started to play around so much with numbers and shit. But he had to try.

Closing his eyes, he tried to bring himself back to the day, so many months ago, that Chris told him the number. They were in the messy house's dining room, sitting on the splintering wooden chairs. It was about one in the morning, and Nick was... actually pretty wasted. He vaguely remembered trying to stand and stumbling to the filthy, dirt-smeared linoleum, laughing. The bottoms of his bare foot-paws were almost black from the dirt - Chris even told him to get his ass into the shower in the morning. He wanted to go then, to just relax under the water, then come back out to keep fucking around with the others, but Chris told him to wait. He had something to tell him. And he didn't want him passing out in there.

It was hard. Not the best time to be telling Nick important information - when Nick got drunk, he got completely tanked. But that night... he didn't have any more. He was persuaded to save some for tomorrow, and he finally went to bed at about four... he guessed.

"Ugh." Nick scowled. "C'mon, what the fuck was it?" It was a big number, but it had a kind of flow to it. Chris had made him repeat it.

Now that he thought about it, he wanted to get that drunk again. Going sober for so long at the center was a pain in the ass. They just up and made him go cold-turkey. That wasn't fair. Assholes. Drove him crazy; there were days when he'd do fucking anything just for a--

No! This pissed him off so much! Whenever he needed to focus...

It started with a 'three'. Or at least there'd been a three somewhere in it... He'd had trouble trying to pronounce it. That's how gone he was.

"Come on!!" he growled loudly at himself. "Fucking hell!" Nope, no, he couldn't. His god-damn brain wouldn't do as it was fucking told! It never would! He raised a paw and smacked the palm into his temple firmly. It hurt, but it didn't work. He did it again. "Shut the fuck up!! Just... stop it!"

It was hard. But damn it, all he had to do was remember a number. A long number, that he heard once nearly a year ago while too drunk to stand up.

Massaging his sore head, Nick tried to focus again.

A few fruitless minutes later, he stood and took the phone again. He glared at the keypad.

He really wanted to speak to them all again. It was a weird... pull. An intense yearning only made worse because he was sure it was his own fault he couldn't. They were his friends. That was a word he never really understood until then. He had never really had friends before. Other five and six year olds; brainless children that he never connected with, or had anything in common with aside from being trapped in the same room as them now and again. Nothing but hazy faces and names with no personality attached, and he guessed he was nothing more than that to them either.

Chase, Jack, Kyle and Chris. It took only days for him to form an attachment to them. A desire to be with them again, day after day, that was so strong, so strange, that he was almost overwhelmed by it, had been for months. He didn't understand it; still didn't. Gary had said you didn't need a reason to make a friend, that all you needed was to feel like you'd get along with them - maybe that was it, maybe it couldn't be explained. But he did get along with these older boys. They accepted him, and gave him things he didn't understand but desperately wanted and needed - not just things like a place to sleep, but even more.

Nick had a home with them, and a family also. It was hell, to have tasted that friendship, stability and acceptance at last, only for it to be ripped away from him because of that night he made a single stupid fucking mistake. It wasn't fair. But when the hell was anything ever fair to him?

Growling, he kicked the sofa before collapsing to his backside beside it.

There was only one goal; only one purpose, one reason to be awake right now, he realized.

Remembering that fucking number.

If he did that, then he could move forward.

Shopping was something Gary had never really enjoyed, but today had made him think more fondly of it. After noticing that the boy in his care needed a few more things, Gary had decided to make a day of it - after all, it wasn't like anyone at his large, empty house was likely to miss him.

And so a coffee, meal and three hours of aimless wandering later, Gary found himself parking his car in his cluttered garage once again.

It was such a trivial thing, but merely returning home and parking his car at this hour, instead of three or more hours later, made a powerful difference to the cheetah. Just the different lighting, the warmth in the air, though scant it was... those subtle differences reminded him that he wasn't returning from work, but from a day of recreation and self amusement. He was on holiday.

He cranked the parking brake on and relaxed in the seat, staring at the bare concrete wall and the simple wooden door that was his return to his own home. There was no denying it now, and Gary knew it: he was working too hard. Every day had been dominated by work concerns or laboring over finances. It had been far too long since he'd had a full day to himself, especially one where he spent it outside.

But now it was time to return to work, albeit it a different job.

Sighing, Gary left the car and lifted his purchases mechanically, pushing open the heavy garage door and hauling all four plastic shopping bags into the kitchen.

He deposited all but one bag on the counter, and continued on.

As he was about to mount the stairway, he stopped, something catching his eye. Instead, he descended into the den.

"Oh man..." Gary grinned, approaching the wide, pillow-laden sofa in the center of the room.

Sprawled on the sofa, Nick was fast asleep. One leg was on the floor, and the other was propped on the couch's high backrest. The kit's mouth lay open.

Gary's heart froze, and he bit his lip.

It was kind of adorable.

As quietly as he could, he laid his quietly rustling plastic bag by the bottom of the couch. He strained to do it as slowly and carefully as possible...

But nonetheless, Nick twitched. The kit's eyes fluttered open, and he squinted dozily at the adult, groaning softly.

And then he gasped, pulling himself along the couch and staring at Gary in what appeared to be abject terror.

"Whoa, it's only me!" Gary said, pulling away with his paws raised. "Sorry!"

The kit stared at him uncomprehendingly. Eyes wild and afraid. Then he seemed to stiffen.

"The fuck are you doing?!" he demanded suddenly. Indignant and angry. Aggressive once more.

Gary frowned. "Just putting the stuff I got for you by the couch, Nick. Sorry I woke you."

The boy never spoke, just breathed heavily.

"Seriously, I'm sorry." Gary smiled sheepishly. "I tried to be quiet. I only just got in."

Nick seemed confused, looking from the floor by the couch to Gary's chest - seemingly unable to meet the adult's eyes. At last, Gary realized that he had to leave.

"Um, okay," the grownup began. "The clothes and stuff are in that bag there. I got you some food too."

"...What?!"

"Yeah. I got you something from the mall. Just a burger and fries. There's a soda in there too." Gary coughed. "Um, look, I'm going upstairs. Sorry I woke you, Nick. I tried not to. I'll be back in a bit, so try the stuff on! Let me know if it's alright."

Nick looked bewildered and angry, so Gary quickly made himself scarce. It just didn't seem like a good idea to hang around and be the victim of another random outburst from the kit. Especially since he wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve one.

As the adult rushed for the stairwell, Nick glared at him, confused.

That wasn't... what?! Shit!

Closing his eyes, Nick tried to focus. It took a few minutes to even realize what had happened to him.

When he had just woken, he was vulnerable. He knew that. Nick was a helpless, disoriented target when he first awoke.

The kit clutched at his chest. "Shit!" he whispered.

Dimly, he remembered. It was what his 'foster-father' used to do. He found it funny when--

Oh shit. No. No, no, no. Not now! Not--fucking not now!

"NO!" Nick gasped at himself, curling into a ball on the couch.

He felt this one coming. Gradually, inexorably, his heart-rate climbed, and his breathing got rapider.

The cheetah boy groaned, stuffing his head into the corner of the couch, between the back and armrest. He clutched the fabric of the couch, his eyes shut tight. Though he knew it wouldn't help, he tried to plead with it. Tried to reason with it.

Worked about as well as it always did.

Adrenaline flooded his body, and he tensed all over involuntarily. He absolutely had to run, but there was nowhere to go.

Gary was going to come back, he had said. There was no way of knowing how long this was going to last. He was trembling all over! There was no way Gary wouldn't-!

He had to move! Desperately, he twisted around, throwing himself off the couch; but his knees buckled, so he fell to a crouch. The only place to go to was the basement, where he had spent the morning, but when he tried to crawl there his shaky muscles failed him.

Urgently, Nick dragged himself along the hallway.

This was one of the worst episodes he'd had, and it had come up so quickly. That scared him even more.

His legs trembled. His vision shook and flashed, harsh with painful sharpness, but he struggled upright, his panicked breathing reverberating in his ears.

Nick clawed at the handle before finally managing to tug the basement door open, falling into the descending corridor that lead to the grimy, smelly underbelly of Gary's otherwise pleasant home. He shut the door behind him, but gripped the handle tightly. His knees gave out again.

Hanging determinedly from the doorknob, he stared down into the darkened basement.

It was as uninviting as he remembered it. No, more so. The descending stairs seemed to stretch out longer than he recalled, leading to a gloomy underground grotto.

The kit groaned, falling to his backside on the stairs. Here would have to do - he couldn't go any further. Couldn't make himself.

So he closed his eyes and waited. Sometimes that helped.

Not this time. In the darkness, Nick was keenly aware of that heat, the pain in his chest. Was he gonna die? Was this one going to kill him the way he thought the first few would?

Breathing hard, Nick huddled into the corner, pulling his knees up to his chest and hiding his face between them.

It was pathetic, and that's why he kept it a secret. He wished someone would just tell him things were alright, and he was okay. That there was nothing to be afraid of.

Irritatingly, his deranged mind offered an idea: Gary! Maybe he would help. Someone, anyone!

But Nick didn't move. Gary couldn't know. Nick would die if the grownups found out he was crazy. It would be dangerous to let them find out. He didn't know what was going on, but it had to be like hearing voices or something, right? Freaking out like he was going to die. Crazy. He'd be fine in a few minutes. As always. As with everything Nick had to endure, he had to endure it alone, and that idiotic urge to run to someone for help just pissed the kit off.

He couldn't let them find out. He'd never survive it - and god knew what they'd do to him. Keep him on drugs? Lock him away, even? He'd heard of and even seen firsthand what happened to supposedly crazy kits, and for things far less serious than these weird, overwhelming bouts of fear over nothing.

Nick tried to focus. It couldn't possibly be helping - thinking about that, something that truly scared and worried him. He'd made that mistake many times before. Instead, he tried holding his breath, but that made him feel like he was suffocating. Nothing was going to stop him hyperventilating, gasping like he'd just been sprinting for the last half-hour.

Nothing except time. It started to subside eventually. But when it left, it took his strength with it. Rubber limbed and tingling uncomfortably, the kit sprawled on his side on the stairway.

Shaking still, though much more manageably, he tried to stand. His rubbery legs made it surprisingly hard.

Sleep. Or at least rest. He needed to...

The basement door was heavy, and weary as he was it was an effort just to push the bastard open.

When he entered the living room, he stopped only to grab the bag Gary had offered him and to listen surreptitiously at the base of the stairs to the next storey for the adult. Satisfied, he staggered up the stairs, straight into "his" room, and shut the door.

"Fuck..." he hissed, leaning back against the door.

He glanced over at the bed.

It would be comfortable. That was for sure. Even the beds at the detention center seemed so awesome right now. But Nick knew he couldn't use this one.

It was his choice.

Grunting, the cheetah boy tore the sheets from the bed and tossed them to the floor.

At last, he curled up on the carpet underneath them, and fell asleep almost instantly.

It was nice to have things work out for once.

The next two days and nights were eerily quiet, Gary felt. The kit barely said a word to him, once again spending almost his entire time in his own room or...

Somehow, Nick had acquired a habit of hanging about the living room, staring blankly at the phone on its cradle, or at the television that he never bothered to turn on. As long as Gary wasn't in the room, of course - Nick fled back to his own if Gary spent more than two minutes downstairs.

And so a bemused Gary sat down to watch another movie. This one he had bought while out shopping, along with a handful of others. And even another game for the console - a fantasy RPG, far more to his liking.

The disc's menu filled the screen, but Gary waited. He knew he really should invite Nick to come watch this one with him.

So he stood, climbing the stairs to Nick's bedroom. Gently, he rapped on the door.

"What?" Nick asked quietly, seemingly near the door.

"Just checking to see if you wanted to come see a movie," Gary said pleasantly. "Another action one."

There was a pause, as if Nick was considering it. "No."

"Alright." Disappointed, Gary made to return to his sofa. However, the bedroom door creaked open. "Hm?"

Nick leaned on the doorway, a pensive expression on his face. "Hey," he began uncertainly, "uh, can I have, like, just a glass of cola and bourbon or something?"

"Sorry Nick, but only if you're with me in the living room," Gary said firmly. Then he added, "Czejak made me promise that I have to keep it under tight control and all that."

Not technically a lie, as Czejak told him to use his judgment.

Nick swore, but he didn't appear too upset. "Yeah, whatever."

"Don't wanna hang out with me, do you?" Gary chuckled sardonically.

The kit blinked in surprise. "Wha-? No. I don't care."

Gary looked the boy over. He didn't seem to be wearing any of the newest lot of clothing Gary bought for him. He stood there in his filthy socks... It made some sense, Gary guessed, that he'd have wanted to change out of anything reminding him of the detention center. So he had changed into the first lot of clothing he bought for him, but didn't see much reason to change again.

"... Just one glass? I don't wanna get pissed or anything-"

Gary shook his head.

"C'mon, man..."

"Sorry Nick, no way."

This time the kit swore louder, pushing away from the doorframe angrily, moving to slam the door. "Fuck off then."

But the adult reached out to put a paw on the door, and Nick flinched away from it slightly. Gary acted like he hadn't seen it.

"Wait. Nick, if it was pretty much anything else I'd be willing to listen." He exhaled. "But alcohol and someone your age? This shit is serious. Hell, if the neighbors got even a hint you were touching my booze, they'd call the cops in seconds. My ass'd be in jail and you'd be back in the detention center, and they don't give out free booze to you there, do they?"

Nick sighed irately, but didn't interrupt. Gary wasn't even sure if he was listening. Hopefully, he was.

"Czejak told me to be very careful with it; which is saying something, Nick: you're not supposed to be allowed to drink at all, but I'm going to let you if you'll just let me keep an eye on you."

"Whatever."

"So don't be mad at me, okay? If I give you too much, Czejak will have my balls on a plate - and then he'd call the cops."

"He wouldn't do that shit."

"Are you sure? If that coyote had any idea I was hurting you in any way he'd do that shit alright; he'd start a shit-storm hurricane that rained diarrhea and wash me out to sea in a river of that shit."

There was a pause. "Gross," snorted the kit, but a slight smirk touched his features as he stared at the floor.

"Alright. Feel free to come on down though. I'll give you something then."

Nick just shook his head, and shut his door. But he never slammed it, at least.

Gary headed back to the den.

A clash was bound to happen over the alcohol, but miraculously this one didn't seem too bad at all. In fact, if Nick took what he just said to heart, he might be even more reasonable about it in the future. That went well. Though Nick did seem pretty distracted by something. Maybe he just wanted the drink to help him think.

As he sat down on his beloved sofa, a huge grin suddenly cracked the grownup's face.

"Well, Gary..." he chortled to himself. "You must be better at this parenting stuff than you thought!"

"Or luckier..." He added, before sighing and hitting 'play.'

The next morning, Nick stared pointlessly at his own reflection in his little bathroom.

His eyes could barely stay open, and they burned, painfully dry. He'd barely gotten two hours of sleep the night before. After Gary's visit, he spent the entire night trying to think, struggling to recover that number from the murky haze of his drunken memory - he'd sort of figured if he got a little tipsy that night, it might have helped him out, but Gary had shut him down.

Though Nick finally fell asleep, he found himself awake again shortly, with further sleep an impossibility.

Nothing worked. He mentally struggled and strained the last two days, but that number was incomplete. It was maddening. The thing that irked him the most was that, well, it wasn't as if he wasn't listening. Drunk though he was, he had listened, and repeated it back. Several times. Committed it to memory. So why couldn't he fucking remember it?

But before he could return to his vain struggle, his stomach suddenly lurched.

He was hungry. He was very, very hungry.

He felt faint, too. Worse than usual. Hadn't eaten since Gary brought him that fast food three days ago.

There was no helping it. He had to ask Gary for food.

The adult had stopped offering it to him as often as he used to. Nick guessed it was because he rebuffed Gary almost every time.

Nick swore to himself.

How fucking stupid of him. He had rejected most of Gary's offers for food, and Gary had done what anyone would do and stopped offering... which meant that Nick had to ask for it, when he was much, much hungrier. That was worse. That was way fucking worse.

From the sound it, Gary was moving from between his office and the server room beside it.

Being this hungry sucked - his stomach really hurt. Not that he was unused to it. He'd been this bad or worse before, but those days weren't days he found himself nostalgic for.

But it was hard. Even knowing it was important, and that he had to do it or else starve...

No, he could put it off for now. He wasn't that hungry. Not yet.

As he opened the door to return to his bedroom, he heard Gary once more return to the server room. That, along with Gary's office and bedroom, was a room Nick hadn't ventured into yet.

"Oh, balls!" Gary exclaimed, his voice muffled. A split-second later, the server room's door was pulled open and Gary stumbled into the corridor, sans shirt. "Oh, crap! Morning Nick."

The kit blinked blearily at him, glancing at the adult's bared torso.

"Um, yeah, just woke up myself." Gary smiled sheepishly. He glanced almost nervously back at his office before walking over to the door, leaning in to retrieve his wallet, and closing the door. "I just saw this bill. I forgot all about it, and I gotta go pay it."

"Uh-huh."

"I'll be back later. This is already late, and I'll get hit with a fine if I don't pay it before four." And with that, Gary bustled past Nick, giving him as much room as possible in the corridor. Even still, the boy retreated into the bathroom again, watching Gary warily.

Nick scratched his head as Gary slipped into his own bedroom.

That was another difference, he noted. Gary was leaner, much leaner, than... the guy Nick thought he looked like. The kit frowned. There were a lot of differences. Only just a few things here and there that looked so disturbingly like him. Maybe it was just Nick's stupid brain again?

There was that neat little earring. The eyes were different. The black, furry tears that striped his face, they were less pronounced. Now Nick could see he was much skinnier than that bastard. That was good. Taking note of this stuff might help.

Maybe he could beat it. Maybe he could beat his brain. Get it to realize Gary was nothing like the psycho whose likeness he resembled.

Nick froze. Gary was going out. That was great! He could check out the fridge or something. Feed himself, the guy would never know.

"Oh thank fuck," he breathed to himself. Then he yawned, so long and hard that he staggered.

Gary moved fast, evidently spooked by the prospect of this fine. In minutes he was out the garage door, struggling to put on a jacket without breaking stride. Nick watched him inconspicuously from the stairs. Waiting until he heard the mechanized garage door open and close, and the adult's powerful vehicle growl its way out of the house.

At last, Nick sighed.

Another day of being left all alone. He didn't mind Gary that much anymore, but right now he truly savored these moments of solitude. Things were just too awkward between him and the adult. He still wasn't sure if he trusted Gary, and that bitterness was still there. Gary hadn't done wrong by him yet, he admitted that now, but Nick felt like he had to be angry at someone still.

He wandered downstairs, immediately heading for the kitchen. Yanking the refrigerator open, he started to browse.

There wasn't much. Gary lived alone, and kept very little in his fridge. Nick recognized a carton of milk and some cheese slices, so he grabbed them. Thirstily, he drank a quarter of the milk straight from the carton before shutting the door and walking away with six slices of cheese.

Unwrapping and stuffing the entirety of the first slice in his muzzle, Nick ambled around the living room.

After a lap of the couch, he paused, glaring at the telephone once again.

He'd spent the last few days struggling to remember the number, naturally. The rest of the night was almost crystal clear, but the one thing he was supposed to have committed to memory...

The kit sighed. Fuckin' hopeless.

He crammed another cheese slice into his muzzle, pocketing the plastic sheet it came in.

Dejected, Nick decided to go back upstairs. There was further exploring to be done - screw it, he wanted to at least check out that server room.

Despite what Gary said before, Nick got the feeling that the office, server room and master bedroom were also rooms where he was really not welcome. Not just the dining room. Even here he was confined to only a handful of rooms.

House arrest was probably bad enough, he reasoned as he climbed the stairs. Foster-house arrest was just bullshit.

Nick knew computers were expensive, and there had to be about six of them in that room alone.

That was a thought. As he climbed the stairs, he wondered what would happen if he really did piss Gary off and break something. If he really got on Gary's nerves, it would take the adult one phone call and Nick'd be back in the detention center for probably much longer.

Truth be told, the kit would prefer a beating than another month in there. Not that he'd admit that. But it was alright, he had no intention of damaging anything. He was just curious, and sick of being so restricted. All the other rooms were boring now anyway.

Brazenly Nick approached the server room door, pushing it aside.

The room was essentially bare and not very spacious. Several long desks, with heavy computer towers humming atop them. Nick inspected them, curious.

Whirring noisy boxes of metal, with blinking lights. He'd not seen very many computers in his life. Barely enough to even recognize these ones for what they were.

He knelt to see under the desk. A hopeless tangle of wires and power-boards was all that was down there.

There were a few taped-up boxes lying around, but even Nick's curiosity couldn't compel him to open them. Resealing them would be hard, and Gary would know he was snooping around. Nick was fairly sure there'd be nothing of interest in them anyway.

He yawned, opening another cheese slice and tearing a piece off.

The office was bound to be more interesting. Maybe.

Nick twisted the door handle and idly kicked the door open.

The office was much larger than the server room. A heavy white desk occupied the corner, curving at a right-angle to fit snuggly - Nick had never seen that. A long, curved desk for the corner of a room. Huh.

Another computer sat on it, but this one had a screen and a keyboard beside it. Papers, binders, a lamp, a phone... even some more machinery that Nick couldn't even name; the desk was scrupulously neat, but there was a pile of magazines and catalogues stacked to the side of the keyboard.

Nick peered at them. He supposed this was where Gary had spotted the bill, mixed in with all the junk.

Some of them were folded open. When Nick examined them, he saw they'd been left open at the children's clothing section. Gary had been browsing clothing for kits.

"Huh," Nick mumbled.

It made sense. He was likely looking through them for stuff to buy Nick. The cheetah boy sighed. It still annoyed him that Gary kept getting things for him, but not as much now. The adult was right, he guessed: he should just take advantage of it while he could. He could do that.

Hopefully he could take some of the clothes back with him to the center. It'd be cool to have more than two pairs of pants. For the first time in his life.

Nick turned over a catalogue and lifted it up with a grin. It was opened to the swim-suit section, with several models roughly his age posing.

He swallowed. Some of them were kind of alright. Hot. He had no problem admitting that, none at all. At least not to himself. The kit briefly considered trying to take this catalogue back to his room at least, but... no evidence. No more stupid mistakes. With a sigh, he placed the catalogue where he found it.

That could come later. For now, he wanted to look around some more. Simply because he could.

Aside from the desk, there was a set of shelves filled with discs. Nick pulled one out and glanced at the cover. It gave him no hints about what was in it. He replaced it. After all, he couldn't read - how much use would the covers be?

As he scanned the room again, hoping to find something remotely interesting, he had to wonder how Gary would react if he did steal the catalogue. Would the adult really care he was in this room? To be fair, he hadn't specifically said not to go into it. Though how could he explain taking it? There was always the risk of Gary figuring out why he'd done so. Maybe.

He wondered if Gary had other stuff he used for the same purpose. More explicit stuff. And if he could find it, of course.

Unwrapping another slice of cheese, Nick sat on the floor and lidded his eyes. He felt so tired. So tired, but his mind was going a hundred miles a minute. He wanted to sleep again, but he knew it would just frustrate him to even try.

Maybe Czejak had told Gary about what he had done with his older friends. Maybe Gary already knew. Hell, the guy wasn't that bad... Nick had to wonder if he could talk to him about it. He had some questions, and a guy he wasn't going to be seeing ever again after the next two weeks was the safest fur to ask.

No. No way. He couldn't even broach the topic. Why the hell was he even thinking about this?

Nick lay out on the floor, closing his eyes and laying a paw on his chest. It was just a silly idea. It was another of those boundaries - he couldn't even try to talk to an adult about this shit. It froze him up inside. Shit, there weren't many furs he could discuss it with.

His wandering mind drifted to thoughts of his friends again. The things they used to do... yes, he knew they weren't things someone like Gary would understand. He couldn't, could he? He couldn't really be trusted. Not like that.

There was no way Gary would realize what it was like. A cold night of sheer boredom. Nothing to do, aside from drink and trip out under a blanket. Having another with you under that blanket was just so good. Once Nick got comfortable around his friends, he wanted that closeness and comfort so much. He'd never felt anything like it before, needed it so desperately. He had missed it so painfully in recent months.

Gary couldn't understand what it was like. For once, someone was truly nice to him in such a tender way. They kept each other warm. Screwed around like idiots just having fun. Sometimes, they were horny and they didn't give a shit about what anyone else thought -- things could easily lead from one to another. There wasn't anything wrong with that, was there? They weren't hurting anyone, they were doing the opposite.

But Nick knew that to furs like Gary, supposedly "normal" adults, they shouldn't have been doing that. Why? Why wasn't he allowed to feel good for once? It was so fucking retarded - they didn't understand what it was like. Or they didn't care. Always talking about what they thought was right. Yeah, because everything always was so right for Nick. They had no fucking idea what was right and wrong. Dickheads.

The kit sniffed.

He was fuckin' sick of being alone, or being surrounded by assholes he couldn't trust. He missed that closeness, even if at first it was a bit awkward. Yet when he got caught, the first thing they--adults; police; suit-wearing jerk-offs; dickheads who didn't know him--did was tear him away from the first people Nick had ever met who really gave a shit about him. They ripped him away from the only source of friendship and affection he'd ever really known, and tried to tell him it was "wrong." Yeah, it was wrong for him to be happy. Fuck them.

They just didn't understand, or care. Gary would be like them. Tell him he'd been abused. Yeah, abused even though he'd asked for it, whatever. Only Czejak really got it.

Though he did have to wonder. Gary did seem a little different from some of the other dickhead adults he'd been saddled with. Maybe he would be different. After all, Czejak did say they'd get along. It was all so confusing and uncertain. They didn't know one another yet.

Did Gary think Nick was innocent? Some little brainless kid who didn't know how good certain things felt? How would Gary respond to finding out that Nick had been in more 'sixty-nines' than he'd had hot meals? Hell, that night so long ago he was struggling to remember? He'd...

Nick's eyes shot wide. "Wait a fuckin' second!"

Instantly, the kit got to his paws and dashed down the stairs to the foyer.

"Three, six, nine, twenty-four, ninety-six..." he panted aloud to himself. Almost in a rhythm.

The kit practically leapt at the cordless phone, stabbing the numbers in as he called them out to himself. He had recited the number back to Chris several times. He knew this phone number. All he needed was just a gentle nudge down Memory Lane.

Holding his breath, he waited while the tinny ringing sound droned on and on. Nick started to lose hope. It was either a wrong number or nobody would answer...

At long last, he heard a clunk. Then a voice.

"Who's this?" groaned a youthful voice. "The fuck, man?"

Incredulous, Nick almost dropped the phone. He needed to find his voice again.

"Ch-Chase?!"

Gary was bored. Already.

Ten minutes into the movie he'd rented for the night and he was already spacing out on his recliner. He'd wanted to play with his friends online, but for some reason almost nobody was on - and each time he sat down in front of his computer, with no work to do, a little voice inside his head started to chastise him for even considering playing so many games.

Shamed by that annoying internal voice, he decided to just watch a movie or at least park himself in front of the television.

It really was sort of lonely, he thought. One time, online, he read a short post on a forum about depression. One major mistake so many depressed furs made, it said, was to sit about all day and eschew socializing. Already Gary saw what the post meant: with only the reclusive Nick in the house, and almost no work for a month, he was treasuring little moments where he actually spoke to another living thing. Not since he'd been quite a bit younger had he felt the urge to go out and meet with friends at the bar.

"That's an idea," he muttered, getting off his backside. On a whim, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it to the recliner as he strode into the kitchen. He was going to enjoy tonight, lonely or not.

Waiting to hear from his irritating internal friend, he paused in front of the fridge. Apparently, the voice had nothing to say about this particular brand of irresponsibility, so Gary tugged open the fridge and located the beers he placed down the bottom earlier in the evening. Without pausing for a moment, he twisted the top off the bottle of boutique lager and started back to the living room.

He stopped the supposedly 'critically acclaimed' drama and replaced the disc with one of his favorite standup comedian's. The cheetah had seen this performance before but he doubted it had lost any of its humor - and the drinking he planned on doing would surely augment it.

Quickly, he raised the bottle to his muzzle. "Mmh. Hell yeah."

Living alone, Gary had acquired quite a collection of various different things. These beers, twelve of them if he remembered rightly, were sitting in his basement for over a month since a workmate divided the remnants of an office party with everyone. Imported lager, crisp and full-bodied. Gary sort of felt sorry for those who didn't 'like' beer. In his experience, most such furs had simply never tried a good one.

That said, they weren't the healthiest of alcoholic beverages, so Gary kept the beer consumption very low, only occasionally treating himself to his favorite imports or microbrewery specials.

"Hey," came a voice from over in the foyer.

Gary nearly inhaled his beer. "Grrff!" Turning around, he saw Nick watching him impassively. "Shit, Nick."

Nick gave him the briefest smirk. "'Sup?" he grunted.

Taking another swig, Gary shrugged at the television screen. "Nothing, just figured I'd watch something funny." He sat down on the recliner again. "Want to watch with?"

Nick stepped a little closer. He hesitated but eventually gave just a curt not.

"Take it you'd like a drink?"

The kit nodded.

Groaning, Gary got to his paws again. "I guess I'll give you one of these beers - if you like beer?"

"Don't mind it."

Gary shot him a grin. "Knew you wouldn't."

When he returned from the kitchen, a cold bottle in his paw, he spotted the cub slipping onto the sofa again, naturally at the farthest point from where Gary traditionally sat.

"Here!" Gary smiled, leaning slightly to proffer the bottle to the cub.

The kit eyed the bottle for a moment, clearly not comfortable with taking it from Gary's paw. But at last he reached out, taking it by the neck.

"This guy's pretty dirty, but don't think that'll be a problem for you." Gary chortled, sitting down and lifting his own beer to his muzzle. "Oh, this is good stuff."

Nick took a tentative sip. After a contemplative pause, he tipped the bottle back and took a more serious swig.

"Like it?"

"Yeah." Nick looked at the bottle, wet with condensation. "... Yeah."

The show started, and Gary was almost immediately laughing along with the raunchy comedian's incredibly offensive jokes. To his disappointment, Nick was reserved, watching almost impassively, curiously.

At least, he was at first. After the second beer, the kit started to snicker. The dirtier the jokes were, the more he chuckled. Almost half-way through the performance, the comedian launched into a recount of an outrageously scandalous hotel stay, involving sex, drugs and an inflatable doll of the president, and Nick almost snorted beer. He burst out laughing.

Gary couldn't help but smile.

As the comedian continued describing the interactions of a bunch of stoned friends in a five star hotel, Nick started to laugh even harder. Gary, who had heard the joke before, watched the kit out of the corner of his eye.

Nick leaned forward then, watching the show more intently. He still continued to drink his beer quickly, though. Gary looked for signs the kit was getting drunk, but he seemed relatively fine. That said, he had downed two and a half beers in half an hour.

When the comedian finally bowed out, Nick snorted and laid back on the sofa. "That guy's one funny fuck."

"I know, I went to see him in Las Vegas a few years ago." Gary blinked. "No, wait. Shit. Seven years."

Nick tipped the bottle back again. "What?"

The adult stood, shaking his head. "Oh, nothing. Just, that was my last vacation, before I got this job. Seven years ago." He walked over to the DVD player. "Well, it's not even eight yet. Wanna watch something else?"

The kit thought about it for a second before shaking his head.

"Oh." Gary sighed quietly, pressing the eject button on the player. "Alright."

"... Uh. Yo, wanna put on that game thing?"

Quickly, Gary looked back. Nick was staring at the floor, loosely holding his beer.

"Sure. Okay. Uh... you want another beer?"

"Yeah."

"Give me a sec then."

Frowning almost imperceptibly, Gary sped back into the kitchen. As he tugged open the large fridge and leaned to get into the crisper, he paused. Only six remained out of the dozen beers he'd put in there. Gary had only had three of them. He shook his head and opened the compartment.

When he returned to the lounge again, Nick hadn't budged an inch.

Gary handed him the beer, and the kit took it a little more confidently this time.

"So, they never had any game consoles at the detention center, huh?"

Nick took the beer and held it by the neck. "...No."

"That sucks." Gary knelt to turn the device on. "What did they have? Television?"

The device beeped as it turned on, and Gary ejected the disc in it, to see what it was. After a moment's thought, he slipped it back into the drive and switched the channel over.

When he looked over, Nick slowly raised the beer to his muzzle, eyes staring unfocusedly at the floor.

"Nick?"

The kit swallowed. "I think there was... one of those game things. I never got to play it."

Gary cocked his head, ambling back to his end of the couch. "How come?"

"They never let me." Nick tipped the beer back again, then wiped at his muzzle with a wrist. "We had TVs in our rooms. They took mine out."

"Oh, what? Why?"

"They're assholes."

"They thought they were punishing you or some shit?" Gary rolled his eyes and sat down. "My parents tried that one. Took away my games and stuff. Really, it just kinda pissed me off."

Nick blinked and looked over at the adult. "Y-yeah..." He frowned.

"That wasn't all they did, was it?" Gary ventured, curiosity emboldening him. "The guards did other things too, right? You told me about those jack-offs."

The kit froze for a moment. "Yeah..." he whispered, raising the beer again at last. Gary winced again; the kid was downing the beer like water.

Once more, the fighting game came on, and Gary grinned. "I've been practicing this one."

But before he could start playing, Nick shifted on the couch and the grownup caught a glimpse of his face in the light from the screen. It was oddly blank. Perhaps thoughtful.

Something was strange about this, Gary finally admitted.

At long last, Nick sighed. "They locked me in my room," he muttered sourly. "If they heard me talking they'd be all fuckin' over me."

"The hell...?" Gary twisted around slightly. "They banned you from talking?"

Nick looked away. "Yeah. Whatever you wanna call it."

Gary shook his head. "Nick, I have to say, that place sounds crazy." He reached over and picked up his own beer. "Do you have any friends there?"

"... No." Nick scratched his arm. "... Evie."

"Evie? They had both boys and girls there then?"

Nick swigged again from the beer, evidently deciding the question wasn't worth answering.

Gary coughed. "Is she still there?"

"... No. She's gone."

"Oh. Guess at least she's out of there."

The look Nick shot him was impossible to read.

Gary started to play the game, smashing his way through the first four opponents easily.

He chuckled, toying with and at last dispatching the last one by sending her ridiculously proportioned body through a glass table in what appeared to be an Italian restaurant. "Yeah, I've been practicing a bit, can you tell?" The grownup laughed, almost youthfully. "I'm not getting my ass handed to me so often. But hey, do you want a go?"

Nick shook his head. He just stared contemplatively at the whirring Gamestation on the carpet.

"Uh... Nick, can I ask something?" Gary ventured. Once again, he figured he needed to be bold to get anywhere like this. He only prayed he wasn't being a complete idiot. "How did you end up in that detention center?"

The kit rubbed his muzzle, taking another swig of the beer. Gary noticed the boy's movements were becoming more imprecise, slightly exaggerated. The alcohol was starting to get to him. Perhaps it was getting to Gary too...

"You know how, man." Nick lidded his eyes briefly.

"I guess. Wanted to hear you tell it though."

"Why?"

Pausing the game, Gary shrugged. "The way Czejak told me and the way you would might be totally different. You don't need to tell me."

Draining the last of his beer, Nick held onto the bottle with both paws. He swallowed shakily. "I don't want to go to another fuckin' home. So some dickhead made me stay there."

Gary shook his head, swearing. "What a load of shit. You were, what, ten? Czejak said something about you doing a few crimes, but they still couldn't put you in a detention center for that. That's just plain fucked up."

Again, Nick shot him an unreadable look. Then he frowned. "No, it's not like that," he slowly murmured. "It's not jail, you know? Some of the kids there didn't do shit. Parents can put you there."

The grownup blinked. "Oh... and your parents..." He nodded. "Yeah. 'Ward of the state' or whatever they say now. So that shit-hole isn't actually a juvie?"

"Wish they'd just let me fuckin' go." Nick sighed angrily. "I don't give a shit."

"Where would you go? Just live on the streets again?" Gary tried to keep his voice calm. Non-judgmental. Nonetheless, Nick looked blankly at the floor in silence. Gary realized he had to say something else. "... What was that like?"

"What?"

"Living on the streets." Gary coughed. "I mean, I thought it was pretty hard-core when I stayed at a friend's place overnight without telling my parents. You know, give 'em a little scare. I don't think I'd make it being homeless."

Nick rubbed his nose, his head wobbling on his shoulders slightly. "It's shit," he said bluntly. He paused. "Yo, another beer?"

Against his better judgment, Gary nodded. "One sec."

When he returned, Nick was huddled into the corner of the couch, his knees up to his chest and his filthy socks upon the cushion. Wordlessly, he took the beer the adult handed him.

The kit held the bottle close, almost cradling it. He blinked a few times.

"That's the last one, okay?" Gary said, as firmly as possible. "I only have a few left anyway, and I want those ones."

Nick only nodded, and so the adult sat down. Gary un-paused the game, but only got a few seconds into it before he heard Nick's subdued voice again.

"... Why do you want to know?"

Pausing it again, Gary shrugged. "I just wanted to know. You don't have to tell me."

Nick took a long drink from the glass bottle, then went back to staring at it. Prudently, Gary kept the game on pause.

Much as he expected, Nick spoke again.

"It's shit," the boy repeated. "You can never get to sleep. It's cold. You always gotta watch when fucks come near you. Dickheads chase you, or call the cops just because you're tryin' to sleep."

Gary dropped the controller. "So... where did you sleep? On the sidewalks?"

Nick shook his head. "First few nights, kinda didn't know what to do. I slept under a... bridge-thing. Overpass, whatever. I tried to go back there one night and these assholes were there, told me to fuck off." The kit shook his head wryly... it came off as so strangely mature to Gary. "I didn't know shit, you know? Kinda just stood there until one of them punched me right in the face."

"What?!" Gary exclaimed.

"Yeah, it was like... 'What?' Bang! 'Get out of here!' You know?" Nick chuckled bitterly. "That was their place or some shit. I tried to find another place in the park, but these guys were fuckin' everywhere. The cops too."

"The cops?"

"Yeah."

"I get it," Gary mumbled. "You didn't want the police to catch you either, because they'd put you back into foster care, right?"

The kit nodded, raising the beer bottle again. "One night, I was tryin' to sleep behind the, um- you know, how they have those building in parks and shit with the toilets?"

"Public toilets?" offered Gary, shifting in his chair. Already, Nick had said more to him in just this one night than in the last ten days.

"Whatever. But yeah, those assholes found me again. Fuckin' grabbed me and pulled me into the toilets." Nick plucked at his dirty socks in lieu of his old shoes. "Yeah."

Gary felt his heart stop. "Why did they do that?"

"They beat the shit out of me... and they, you know." Nick sighed. "When they finished, they took my shoes and my pullover, and just fuckin' left me there. Told me to get lost."

"Nick, w-wait, did they...?"

For the third time, Nick shot him a look. "Yeah."

"How fucking old were you?!"

The kit thought about it for a moment. "'Bout ten. I dunno. Yeah, so the next day, it started to rain like a bitch. I swiped a jacket from a store and ran like hell. I'd never stolen shit from anyone before, but it wasn't like I was gonna get a jacket just outta nowhere."

"...Yeah, can't complain about that."

"I tried, uh, few places. Behind buildings and shit like that." He smirked slightly. "Started to meet other kids on the street. Some of them were psychos but a few were cool."

"Did things get easier then?"

Nick closed his eyes and swayed a little more. He swigged from his beer again, then nodded. "Yeah."

"That how you met those guys you lived with? Czejak mentioned them."

"Yeah." Nick raised the beer again, this time more clumsily.

Gary started to think he may have made a mistake. "How did you end up staying with them?"

"Promised to help," replied the kit shortly. He swallowed loudly.

"Hm." Gary narrowed his eyes. "The videos, right? I heard about that."

Nick slowly turned his head to frown drunkenly at the adult. "Yeah. Not just that. Chris wanted to help."

"Did you offer to do the videos or did they make you?"

Nick sighed dramatically. "Fuckin' hell. No. I said I'd do them." He shook his head and quickly finished off the beer. "Knew you wouldn't fuckin' get it."

"... No, I think I do." Gary lifted his own beer at last. "I don't care about that. Neither does Czejak."

Nick just scowled in confusion.

"They gave you a place to stay. If you were willing to pay the price, I guess it's up to you." Gary shrugged. "I only hope you didn't catch anything, if you get me."

The inebriated kit shook his head. "Didn't. The assholes checked..."

"Wow, that woulda been awkward. What did they say, 'excuse me, kid, can we check your dick for spots'?"

There was a pause, but eventually Nick gave a quiet snicker. "They didn't ask," he murmured weakly.

"Oh." Gary leaned a little closer. "Are you alright, Nick?"

"Yeah." Nick placed his paws on the carpet heavily and hauled himself upright. He staggered quickly around the settee and stumbled inelegantly to the ground floor bathroom.

Gary stood, alarmed, as his charge slammed the bathroom door. As expected, only a second later there was a horrid retching sound from that direction. He winced.

"Oh, shit!" the grownup snapped at himself. He edged closer to the corridor the bathroom was situated. "I'm an idiot!"

After a minute, the toilet was flushed, the tap was run, and the door was pushed open. Nick ambled into the lounge again, wiping his muzzle with a wrist. He stopped some feet away from the couch.

He was smiling.

A genuine, wide smile. The first of its kind Gary had ever seen.

"Shit, Nick, you alright?" Gary demanded.

The boy simply nodded. "Yeah, I'm good. Haven't done that for fuckin' ages."

"Wish you hadn't."

Nick shrugged. Even now, drunk to the point of throwing up, Gary could see the kit still wanted to avoid eye-contact. "Uh, hey, man..."

"What's up?"

"I'm gonna go crash."

"That might be a good idea. Try to drink some water, okay?"

"Hey... uh, thanks."

Gary blinked. "Oh, for the beer?"

Nick didn't reply, he just made his way to the stairwell.

The grownup sat down, and stared thoughtfully at his paws.

While that was by far the best conversation he'd got out of the boy, it had come at a price. Gary knew he would never forgive himself for such a moronic display of irresponsibility. But progress was progress... so long as he wasn't undoing the progress Nick had made over all those surely painful months.

Gary leaned back, nursing his beer again. He had to think. Things were even less clear cut than he thought.

This kid had lived on the streets. He had starred in underground pornography, to put it delicately. He was a recovering, preteen alcoholic and had suffered beatings, sexual abuse and probably worse from parents and even strangers. He had stolen to live and for a year he had essentially been a fugitive.

Yet he wasn't even twelve yet.

"Holy shit," Gary said to himself, shivering.

But that still wasn't all he'd gone through. There was something very fishy about this place Nick was being made to live. The boy had made it perfectly clear he'd sooner live on the streets than with another foster or adoptive parent. Yet somehow, Gary got the feeling he'd also prefer the streets to the detention center.

Gary narrowed his eyes. He couldn't leave this to mystery. There was something very wrong here, and even after tonight, which probably qualified as a heartfelt conversation for Nick, he was still in horribly unfamiliar territory. Even now, he still wasn't sure what he was dealing with.

His cell phone was still in his pocket. He withdrew it quickly and started to key in a message.

If he didn't do something, he'd make more mistakes. He knew he would.

Ones that made tonight's inexcusable idiocy look mild...

The whump the stack of papers made as they landed next to the black laptop computer was almost satisfying to Czejak.

He dusted his paws and smoothly sat in his leather office chair, picking up his simple black pen.

"Now then, Mister Paperwork," he drawled. "Let's see what you're made of. Aside from pulped wood, that is."

Before he could get started, though, there was a sharp knocking on the office door.

"Come in, Karen!" the coyote said brightly, swiveling his chair around.

The lapin pushed open the door. "Good morning, doctor! You're in good spirits."

"As good as can be expected for a fur faced with such a monstrous pile of paper." Czejak chortled. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, first of all, there's this." Karen held out a large paper cup. "Latte, one sugar. I remembered this time."

The coyote took the cup gratefully. "Oh thank goodness. I forgot whose turn it was today."

"Oooh, if I'd've known that!" His secretary laughed. "Oh, Doctor Hallman called earlier to confirm your lunch tomorrow. He wants you to try and get an email to him with the restaurant you picked."

Czejak made a face. "That presupposes I get all this scribble-work done."

"I'll do it, just write the address down for me. You focus on the more important business."

"Thank you so much, Karen."

There was a loud beep, coming from somewhere unknown.

The rabbit looked around. "What was that?"

"Not sure." Czejak frowned. "I've been hearing it all morning. No idea what it is."

"Checked your phone? Some phones make noises to let you know you've missed a call or something."

"Oh." Czejak smiled sheepishly, reaching for his briefcase. "Uh, now that you mention it, I haven't checked it."

He pulled the phone out of the leather case. Sure enough, a light blinked at him, indicating a missed call or message. As he pressed a button and the display lit up, he saw it was a message.

"Hm, wonder when I got this."

"Well, is it anything important?" Karen enquired.

"... It might be." Czejak sighed. "It looks like I'll have to hold off on the paperwork again."

"What's wrong?"

"What else?" Chortling, Czejak got to his feet. "Nick, of course."

"Doctor, he's an hour-and-a-half drive from here."

But the coyote grinned happily. "Well, better get something to eat, I suppose."

Gary opened the door, and with relief, he saw a familiar coyote there.

"Oh, good morning, doc!" he said quietly. "I didn't think you'd got my message."

Chuckling, Czejak stepped inside. "You almost were right! So, what is it you need to speak with me about that you didn't want to discuss over the phone?"

Gary shut the door. "Honestly, we could've done it over the phone," the cheetah said. "I'm sorry. But I did want you here."

"I'm flattered. I do know I'm good company, but..." Czejak spread his arms in an exaggerated shrug. "What can I do for you?"

"I need information, doc." Gary folded his arms. "I've got this burning curiosity and I'm going to go nuts if I don't find out what the deal is."

"That's simple enough. What's the problem?"

"Let's discuss it in my excuse of an office. Fancy a coffee? A real one?"

Czejak grinned. "You know, that sounds fine by me."

Unsurprisingly for Czejak, Gary had already set up his coffee-machine, and in less than a minute they both mounted the stairway to the office, coffee in paw.

"Is our boy asleep?" whispered Czejak as they reached the office.

Gary closed the door firmly. "I sure hope so, doc, he could use it." He pointed at his computer chair. "Feel free to sit down. I can sit on the floor."

The coyote did so. "I don't think I'd be able to get back up if we did it the other way around."

"Well, I would use the living room, I don't want Nick to just walk down and hear everything." Gary leaned against the wall by his bookshelf, overfilled with coding and networking manuals. "Okay."

"Yes, so what's wrong?"

For a moment, Gary just frowned in thought. "... Doc... what's the deal with that detention center?"

"What about it?"

"Don't pull that on me, please. Nick has a bruise the size of a baseball under his eye, and he'd sooner sleep in a dumpster than go back there. What the hell is the deal?"

Czejak exhaled deeply. "I... well."

"Come on doc, you've withheld a shitload of information. I need to know what this kid has been going through. I know you want me to 'figure it out for myself' and get him to tell me, but that's not going to happen at this rate. Not in two weeks - and if I don't know what I'm dealing with that's all the time we're gonna have."

"There's not much to tell, Gary." The coyote gave a shrug. "It's not a very nice place."

"I was under the impression it was a juvenile detention center. According to Nick, it's not."

"Ah." Czejak chuckled sourly. "Yes, I think I see what the problem is. No, Gary, it's a private institution. As you probably know, usually cubs under fourteen, ten at the absolute minimum, aren't held criminally liable for the actions. Doli Incapax, I believe they say. Despite being over ten years of age, Nick wasn't considered liable, which was, at least in intent, a mercy. He couldn't be sent to a government detention center."

Gary narrowed his eyes. "I get the feeling he'd prefer it if he was."

"He probably would." Czejak sighed. "Alright, Gary. Wilder Springs Youth Reformation Center is what some people call a 'residential treatment facility'. It's not like jail; parents and guardians send their children, usually teenagers, there regardless of whether or not they want to go, or have broken any laws."

"Is that legal?"

"It's essentially no different from a boarding school, or camp." Czejak scratched his head. "From a legal standpoint anyway. Parents can send their children there at their leisure."

Gary stood. "And if they refuse?"

"In a manner of speaking, the guardians can arrange for their child to be taken by reasonable force. Or unreasonable force. It's not uncommon to see scared teens being brought there in handcuffs by trained escorts."

"That cannot be legal."

"It's on shaky ground, but technically speaking, if your parents want you to go to a boarding school they're perfectly well allowed to hire someone to escort you there. They have custody. It's more about what we don't see than what's legal." Czejak snorted. "Wilder Springs is not the only center of its kind. Wilder Springs isn't one of the worst ones either. Over ten thousand teenagers a year are sent to places like this, and some of them aren't lucky enough to go to such a good facility."

"And Nick has no parents. So some fucking pencil pusher social workers decided to send him there. Out of sight, out of mind."

"You're starting to sound like him."

"No, doc, I'm just starting to see where he's coming from. I'm starting to get a little pissed off here. He is being abused in there; this is more than unfair. So what's the deal? Someone at Child Protective Services got a deal with these guys?"

His expression slowly becoming concerned, Czejak crossed his legs. "Gary, I'm going to have to ask you to be restrained about this."

"Why? Why the hell would you of all--!"

"Because it would change nothing, Gary! I've sent a hundred letters of protest. I've made reports. Even the worst of these places are more or less unhindered until they go so far as to kill or maim a child! The news doesn't care, they have sport to cover! The senators don't give a damn, because they have to quibble over taxes! Believe it or not, you're not the only one angry about this. According to them, this is all nothing more than 'tough love'." Czejak took a deep breath. "There's a reason why I work with these places - I take every chance I get through the CPS to monitor the situation of children like Nick. If, one day, Wilder Springs takes in no more wards of the state such as Nick, then I won't have any power to help any of the kids in that facility."

Gary swallowed and shook his head. "So... you're saying, you don't want to rock the boat?"

"That's a good way to put it." The coyote rubbed at his eyes. "I can still do some good. I hope."

"What do they do there? How long is Nick supposed to stay there?"

"Indefinitely, Gary. Until he consents to placement. We can't keep tracking anklets on him his entire adolescence." Czejak smiled wanly. "So it's basically all on me. If I can't find a home for him, he's in there until he's eighteen."

"What do they do there, doc? I mean, what's Nick really going through there?"

"Like I said, Wilder Springs is far from the worst of them, Gary. The rooms and living conditions are quite nice; they even have some decent programs for the kids."

"So why does Nick have a shiner the size of a grown male's fist right on his face?"

"It might not be the worst, but it's not the best either. Some of the staff are more callous than others, and even minor infractions are sometimes disproportionately punished. The directors believe in strict discipline, you could say. They say that's what the kids are there for."

Gary rolled his eyes. "Give me details, doc. I need to know what this kid has been through."

Czejak merely smiled again. "Gary, we'd be here for hours."

"If that's what it takes."

"So you're thinking about it then?"

Taken aback, Gary couldn't think of a response at first. "W-well, I don't... n-no," he stammered. "It's just, if I'm supposed to help him, I'd like a little more information at least."

"I don't mean to pressure you, Gary. I'm sorry." The coyote cleared his throat and scratched behind one of his pointed ears. "Kits that misbehave badly are usually taken down and restrained. I've heard the staff restrict food, employ humiliation and degradation techniques, give menial labor as a punishment, and restrict the use of entertainment facilities."

"That's not all, is it? Nick mentioned he was banned from talking."

"Oh yes, I've heard more. Bear in mind, I don't get to see much of this first hand. Some of them get locked in their room, forced to do other forms of busywork right up until lights out."

"And getting punched in the face."

Czejak shook his head. "No, Gary. That was an unusual case. The guards can get carried away, especially when Nick mouths off the way he does, but outright striking the kids is extremely rare as far as I know. See, in Nick's own words, he's sick of backing down. I think he feels he has to prove to himself that he doesn't need to do that anymore. But all it does is creates more misery for him."

"I think I can see why."

"Well, so now you know what awaits Nick when he leaves here."

Gary looked away sourly. "I thought you said you weren't pressuring me?"

"I didn't plan on telling you all of this, Gary. But now that you do know, do you really need me to pressure you?"

"No, I think that's the last fucking thing I need at the moment." With a sigh, Gary stalked over to the window, looking out at the light rain dancing over his grassy backyard.

"Nick isn't a bad kid."

Gary laughed shortly. "I bet you say that about all the kids you work with."

"Oh no, Gary, no. Not at all. In fact, let's stop the feel-good nonsense: for several months, Nick was an unabashed criminal. But he mostly kept to himself - all he wanted was to be able to lie on a couch and enjoy the rest of his life after all he'd been through. Leave him alone, he'll leave you alone. And yet to most people, that doesn't excuse him."

"What're you getting at, doc?"

Czejak spun the chair around to face the brooding cheetah more comfortably. "Think about the truly bad cases. The real 'problems.' The abused or homeless or neglected kids that supposedly terrorize an entire neighborhood. The average citizen doesn't know what these kids have gone through - and why should they care? Does it make things any fairer for them when they're attacked on the street because some sixteen-year-old has an abusive father? But regardless of that, these kids are victims too." The coyote paused. "Those of us in this business, social workers, counselors, foster and adoptive parents, cannot ignore that. We cannot ignore that. If we want to ignore these facts, then we shouldn't be doing these jobs. We'll just make things worse."

"Whatever you say, Andrei." The cheetah nodded slightly. "Tell me more about this place. What's the deal with Nick's orange shirt? It stank to high-hell. Do they make the kids wear uniforms?"

The psychologist placed his fingertips together. "Not quite. Depending on the severity of their misbehavior, troublesome kits have their clothing removed and they're given a colored shirt. Orange was the worst, and from what I understand, it meant the loss of all leisure time, recurring punishments and being disallowed to talk except when spoken to by staff."

"And the other kids accept this crap? They just go along with it?!"

"The other kids may very well help with the punishment, Gary. Peer-pressure is a tool well used at Wilder Springs. You must remember, in an environment like this, you'd eventually adapt. Go along with it all to minimize your own distress. They can't be blamed; it's what these facilities are for. Behavior modification."

For the first time in his life, Gary found himself shaking. From rage. "How do they get the kids there? To stay there?"

"Well, fences for one thing. And I told you already that they're often 'escorted' from their homes in the early hours of the morning by professionals, usually equipped and trained for the task of subduing willful teenagers - these 'professionals' often have their own websites, actually. Some of them might be ex-police or military, but we're not talking about underground militia here; teen 'escorts' are a legitimate business. Similarly skilled professionals are employed as guards and orderlies."

"You mean they're kidnapped?"

"Oh no, I told you, the parents allow it - making it not kidnapping at all. After all, would you go to Wilder Springs willingly? It's quite legal."

"That's bullshit!!"

"I know."

There was a muffled percussion somewhere outside the office door, and Gary whirled around.

However, Czejak caught his attention with a wave of his paw, motioning for the cheetah to come closer. Confused, Gary did so.

"Don't let him know you heard him," whispered the psychologist, a slight smile on his muzzle.

"Why? What's he doing listening in at the damn door?"

"Information gathering."

Gary's response was just a bewildered look.

"He just wants to know what's going on, but doesn't want attract attention. Don't worry about it, let him."

For some reason, that mildly annoyed Gary. He had more questions, but he couldn't ask them if Nick was listening in. He began to doubt the wisdom of having this conversation in a room only a few doors from Nick's bedroom. Then again, he didn't expect to raise his voice so much.

"Okay, doc," he sighed. "Thanks. You should check on Nick now, if he's awake."

"Oh, certainly. I wouldn't want to wake him though."

From outside the room, the bathroom door closed loudly. Gary had to smile.

Naturally, Czejak rose to the occasion. "Oh, I think that's him up."

They both found themselves grinning.

Though Nick spoke to his counselor, and Gary thought he did so quite gladly, they only spoke briefly. Naturally, Nick had a headache and looked quite poor, but to Gary's surprise, he firmly refused drinking.

Czejak left not long after speaking to his patient, and Gary felt only mildly guilty as the doctor set out for another hour or so drive back to his office. It's what the doc deserved for holding out on him.

He waved at the doctor's car, before shutting the front door loudly.

Nick had stretched out on the couch, lying on his back, staring blankly up at the roof.

Gary looked over at him from the foyer. "Nick? All good?"

"... Yeah."

"Alright. I'll be upstairs if you need anything."

Nick sat up. "Hey, wait..."

"What's up?" The grownup paused at the stairs to the den.

"Uh," Nick mumbled. He looked away uncomfortably. "I gotta talk to you."

Gary frowned. "Yeah, sure..." Nick had never said that before. "How about I sit down there?"

"Yeah." The kit pulled his legs in and shuffled back against the armrest. Gary seated himself on the other side, by the other armrest, as always giving the child as much room as possible.

Nick wrapped his arms around his knees.

"So, what's up?"

"I... I heard you and the doc talking."

"Oh, you did?" Gary asked, feigning surprise somewhat poorly.

"He told you about the center, didn't he?"

"A little."

The kit nodded. "Since I came here, I get to talk to Czejak without a camera watching me. Without those ankle-cuff things they started to make me wear."

"Ankle-cuffs!? Wait, what?! You mean, like, manacles?"

Nick looked down at the gray object still encircling his ankle. "... I dunno."

"I still can't believe this."

Swallowing, the kit ignored him. "But... even-- even now if I ask how long it is until they let me go, he won't tell me. Why not?"

"... I don't know, Nick."

"Did he tell you?"

"... No, he didn't."

"... Come on, man..." To Gary's horror, Nick wiped at an eye. "I've gotta know."

"Nick..." Gary sighed. He had to answer. He couldn't not. "Until you agree to go to a home, or until you're eighteen, I think he said."

The kit inhaled shakily. "E-eight...?"

"I don't think they can keep you in there any longer than that."

Nick hung his head again. "Fucking assholes!" he cried, squeezing his knees tighter. "How come they can do this?!" Suddenly, he couldn't stop himself. He started to cry quietly.

After a moment, Gary stood, swiftly moving to Nick's side. The kit reacted with surprise and obvious fear, slamming into the armrest and staring up at the adult.

But rather than strike him, Gary knelt by his side. Nick stared at the tall grownup with wet, gray eyes.

"Whoa, whoa, hold on," Gary said softly. "Nick, I won't ever hurt you. I promise. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

Nick frantically wiped at his eyes. "Shit!"

"Listen, Nick. I know you're not going to believe this, but I want to help you. Now more than ever, I'm on your side." Gary shuffled a few inches away. "I can't believe this, Nick. I had no idea about the place you came here from. I don't think most people have any idea about it. But what the fuck is all this? Leg-irons on you while you're talking to your counselor? This 'restraining' bullshit?"

Nick pressed himself against the couch's back and swallowed. "Nobody cares!"

"Maybe not. But I do. I don't see how any of this helps you."

"I won't go to another fucking home!" Nick yelled, his voice cracking. "I won't let another asshole hurt me like that!"

"I know, Nick." Gary found himself needing to rub his own eyes now. "I know. I'm not trying to argue with you. I just want you to know that I'm not in this for the money, or anything like that. I said I wanted to try to help a kid, and you're that kid. I don't want to adopt you, and you don't want to be adopted. It's all good."

Gary stood up and backed away. He headed to the foyer again, while Nick stared at him, apparently lost.

"Okay, I'll leave you alone now. Sorry. I shouldn't have gotten into your face like that."

The night was cold. As expected.

Beneath his filthy socks, the lush lawn was soaked, but Nick didn't really care. He'd gone for days without shoes before; a wet lawn was not the worst thing he had to stand in without them.

A dark shadow floated heavily off in the distance, he saw, out beyond what seemed to be a forest right by Gary's home. On all other sides of Gary's house there were other large homes, equally as impressive, with well-kept gardens bordering the wide roads.

Though the suburb was nice, he had seen it from the window before, so it was the forest that interested Nick the most. Even though it made him nervous, part of him wanted to go explore it. He'd never been in a forest before.

But of course he couldn't. Though at times he forgot it was there, he could always feel the weight of the device strapped tightly to his ankle. He couldn't go anywhere. They'd catch him, even if he intended to return to Gary's house, and god knew what would happen then.

A car drove down the street, past the house at almost a crawl.

Nick stared at it, mildly curious. It was three in the morning, roughly. Even in this quiet neighborhood it seemed that not everyone was asleep.

With a squeal of the tires, the vehicle accelerated and sped around the corner of the block. Just some bored guys screwing around at midnight. It'd normally make him suspicious, testament of his dangerous, trustless upbringing on the streets, but he just didn't care tonight. Besides, he doubted anyone in this area would be the sort of aggressive dickheads who prowled the streets at night looking for violent entertainment.

Sighing, Nick took a seat on the grass, a few meters from the roadside. For once he wasn't trying to think. In fact he was trying not to.

Czejak had been right. Agreeing to this experiment hadn't been too bad at all. Gary was a pretty cool guy, and Nick was starting to find it strangely... good... to be with him.

That was what he didn't want to think about.

Nick had gone through several social workers before the center. Several different furs that were supposed to be his friends. Pretended to be. Some of them he only knew for a week, then never saw them again. Many of them didn't listen. Some of them never believed him. Most of them didn't really give a shit about him. It took Czejak a month to finally get Nick to even speak with him; because Nick not only didn't trust the coyote at first, but he didn't expect to see him again. Why bother telling him anything?

But the doc stuck with him for months. Czejak, now, was someone he could trust. He would just listen to Nick rant for hours. Encouraged and complimented him. It was so strange.

With Gary, Nick felt the awkwardness. At first he didn't realize it, not until sometime after Czejak pointed it out, but the adult really was anxious around him too. Nonetheless, the guy did want to talk to him, and after being banned from talking to almost everyone, Nick liked the change. Gary didn't treat him like a dumbass either.

Sometimes, Gary scared him. But sometimes...

"Ugh, shut the fuck up!" Nick snapped at himself, hitting himself on the back of the head firmly with his palm. "No."

He looked up at the sky, absently taking a hold of his tail to idly pull on it.

It wasn't fair. He didn't want to go back to the center for the next six years. He couldn't handle it. What were his choices though? They hadn't changed - his choices were still no choices at all.

A car drove past again, and Nick frowned at it.

It was exactly the same one as before. That wasn't right. It rumbled along, until it stopped barely ten feet from him. Nick's eyes widened and he shot to his paws, starting to back away towards the house. Evidently, he'd been wrong about the neighborhood!

Quickly, two figures got out of the car. One of them spread his arms at Nick.

"Well, if it isn't our little convict!" the driver, a familiar jaguar dressed in jeans and a hooded gray pullover called, coming closer while his associate strode purposefully alongside him. "Come here, kiddo."

"What the shit?" Nick gasped, turning to run at the house. His arm was caught and something smashed into his legs, tripping him. He fell facedown on the wet grass. "Agh! Wh-what the hell?!"

A weight pressed down on his lower back and a paw pushed his head into the sodden lawn.

"Where you think you're goin', faggot?" chuckled the thug who had tripped him. He'd been grabbed from behind.

Nick tried to struggle, though almost instantly he knew he couldn't dislodge whoever was pinning him down.

"Come on, little dude, why would you run like that? You duckin' me?"

The cheetah kit looked sideways up at the jaguar. "What the fuck do you want, Adam?" he growled.

His head was shoved even more firmly into the grass. "Watch it."

"Agh! God, fuck off! Why does everyone do this shit!?" Nick spluttered and grabbed futilely at the paw on the back of his head.

Chortling, Adam knelt by the struggling cheetah, cocking his head to match the gaze of the pinned boy. "So, Nick, you have something for me?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Nick managed to mumble, his cheek pressed into the dewy ground.

"You still owe me, Nick."

Nick stared in total disbelief. "Are you fuckin' crazy?" he demanded. "How could I have anything?"

"Don't give a shit, Nick." Adam gestured at whoever it was crushing Nick's head and spine. "Get him up a bit."

Roughly, Nick was pulled up until he was kneeling. He prepared to struggle again, to try and free his wrist.

However, Adam lifted aside his pullover. He drew a handgun from his waist. Nick's heart stopped.

"Shit, man! Hold on!" The kit tried to squirm away, but he was held steady. "Don't fuckin' shoot me! What the hell did I do?!"

Adam shook his head, smirking. "Listen to me, kid. There's something you're gonna do for me. It's no fuckin' problem for you, so don't make this hard." He brandished the firearm. "It ain't like you've never ripped someone off, Nicky."

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Nick swallowed, eyeing the gun.

The jaguar loomed over the kneeling kit. "You owe me, huh? Isn't that right, kid? One hundred and thirty green ones."

"Fuck, man! I was trying to get the money to give to Chris, but I got busted!" Nick shook his head frantically. "I never got a chance--"

"I don't give a damn about that shit, porn-star." The jaguar's 'friends' chuckled at that. "You do have a chance now."

Nick stared in disbelief. There was no way Adam could've found him. Why would he even bother to try? Nick had paid the jaguar every time. Adam supplied marijuana and more to the house, and Nick had been responsible for his share - in this case, a share he'd never gotten to use. This made no sense.

How could it have been worth it to track down Nick and drive for hours just to get what had to be pocket change to the guy?

"Do ya hear me, Nick?" prompted Adam. "Here's your chance."

"Wh-what?"

Adam nodded at the house. "It's not hard, kid. Leave a door open tomorrow. Give us a fuckin' key. Whatever. We'll take what we want."

"What...?"

"Of course, yeah, that's you giving us a little extra. Beyond the call of duty and all that shit." Adam knelt down in front of the cheetah boy. "So we'll do something for you. We'll take you back with us. Get you right the fuck out of here."

Nick froze.

"I see they got a tether on your skinny ass. No worries. We'll bust that shit and you'll be free. I got my money, you paid me back with interest, and you're home free. Everyone wins, huh?"

The cheetah didn't move. Didn't speak.

"We'll be back here tomorrow. Same time." Adam tucked the gun back into his waist at his back. "You be out here to help us, or next time we catch you, we'll fuck you up so hard your new parents won't want you." He shrugged. "That's if we don't just burn this shit-hole to the ground."

At last, Nick had to ask. "H-how did you find me?" he demanded.

Adam gestured again to the goon holding Nick in place, and suddenly the kit found himself pitched forward again into the grass. But he was released.

Muted paw-falls in the grass indicated the thugs were walking away. Nick looked up to see Adam smirking at him over his shoulder.

"Seems you racked up a bit of a phone bill."

The next morning, Nick was already awake, sitting on the luxurious recliner, when Gary descended into the den.

"Good morning, Nick." The grownup padded down towards the sofa, clad only in his pajama bottoms.

Nick grunted his own welcome, shifting slightly.

"You been up all night or something?" Gary asked, yawning.

"... No. Slept a little." Prompted by Gary's, Nick yawned too.

"Huh, did you go outside last night?"

Nick looked at the adult warily. "Yeah, why?"

"Nothing. You just have grass stains all over your shirt. Gonna have to give it a wash."

After a moment, Nick nodded and leaned forwards. Quickly, he stripped his t-shirt off and tossed it to the couch.

Gary blinked. "Oh. I didn't mean right now. Isn't it cold?"

Nick shook his head.

"Well, let's put on the TV. See what's going on." Gary leaned forward to pick up the remote. "Unless you want to play a game or something."

"No."

"Alright then." The television switched on. "This is pretty cool. Almost like a vacation." The grownup grinned at his charge.

Nick didn't look. "Uh, hey. You said the Gamestation cost a lot, right?"

Gary frowned. "Yeah."

"Like, five hundred or something?" Nick scratched his exposed chest. "That's a lot, right?"

"It and the games too, yeah. I don't go spending that much all the time."

"... you got it for me?"

"Well, yeah... why?"

Nick eyed the black box on the floor in front of Gary's huge television and entertainment unit. "Nothin'," he mumbled.

"Sure you don't want to play it?"

The kit closed his eyes briefly. Gary half expected an aggressive, frustrated sigh and to be told to piss off, but instead the kit nodded. "... Yeah. Put it on."

Gary positively beamed.

There was no way they could've predicted it. The two shirtless cheetahs sat together for hours, passing the glossy black controller between them and, most impressively, talking.

"Look out when she ducks like that!" Nick said urgently, leaning forwards on the recliner. "She's gonna do that spinning shit."

"Ah, crap! I saw it coming too!" Gary snapped, mashing a button on the controller. "I'm just not that fast."

Nick snickered. "You got your ass kicked!" chortled the kit. "Here, lemme try."

"One more go. I've got this prissy little bitch." Gary grinned. "Not letting you beat this one for me."

As Nick watched on, lightly rubbing one of his slender arms, Gary hit the button to retry. The rabbit-girl character - according to Gary, her name was Lulu - had stopped Gary's progress every time.

In a close fight, which literally kept them both on the edges of their seats, Gary finally succeeded in beating her. Barely. The grownup tossed the controller to the side and raised his paws as fists toward the ceiling.

"Oh, hell yeees!" he cried, laughing aloud. "Finally! Here!" He pushed the controller towards the recliner with an unshod foot-paw. "Your turn! Be careful though, the next opponent will be even harder."

The next opponent was a muscle-bound young lion, who Gary identified as "Dolph." Nick firmly thrashed this new obstacle in less than a minute.

Much as Gary had done, he kicked the controller over the floor. He was grinning.

"Aw, shit..." Gary said, stunned. "Okay. I've got it. That one doesn't count. Using the same move over and over like that when he's on the floor."

Nick snorted. "Yeah, bullshit. I won, didn't I?"

Gary raised an eyebrow. "I'd sure say you did. In like ten seconds."

The next opponent proved too difficult for Gary. In a record three attempts, he surrendered and passed the controller over to Nick. To his credit, Nick lost the first try.

"Shit, this cunt's tougher." Nick hissed. "How do you grab 'em? The throw?"

"Top two buttons."

Gary stretched out on the couch to watch. However, eventually, his eyes wandered and settled on the shirtless kit focusing on the game.

After a few more attempts, Nick paused the game. "Ah, shit." He looked over at the adult and smirked. "What?"

"Oh." Gary blinked, flustered. "Nothing. Was just wondering, uh, how come you wanted to play it now? If you don't mind me asking."

Nick rubbed his nose. "I dunno. Just wanted to."

Gary shrugged. "Doesn't matter. You're getting closer each time."

"I know. It's fuckin' cheating."

"How?"

"Every time I go to do something, he, uh, fuckin' jabs me right in the face. Every fuckin' time." Nick sighed and leaned back. "Hey, what about those other ones you've got?"

"The other games? Sure, let's take a look at them."

As Gary reached for the games, Nick stared at him.

"Uh. G-Gary?"

Gary froze. That was literally the first time he'd heard the boy use his name. "Y-yeah?"

"Can I have a drink?"

The adult stopped and drew himself up. "I guess so, but not as much as last time." He shook his head. "I don't want you sick again... and I don't want you to lie to your counselor for my sake again."

"I don't want to be sick again." Nick sighed. "Not tonight."

"Alright. What would you like?"

"Whatever, man." Nick smiled slightly. "Whatever."

The café was almost deserted for some reason, though they were but ten minutes from the business district. Czejak tapped the bottom of his menu on the wooden table.

"Still can't decide?"

The coyote grinned at his friend. "You know me."

Returning the grin, Doctor Joshua Hallman brandished his own menu at his friend. He was a tall, skinny wood fox - a rare breed even today - and upon his nose was a pair of thin, wire-frame glasses. "No, the Andrei I know would pick any old thing and say he didn't have time to think it over."

Czejak shook his head. "I eventually found that a little more contemplation of my choices would be a good change."

"It usually is!" Joshua laughed. "I recommend something light. It's still quite early after all."

"I suppose I can just go with a croissant or something."

"Going to just copy me, then? You haven't done that since our post-grad years."

Czejak snorted a laugh. "If I ever needed to conserve brainpower, I'd just take your lead. That way neither of us was stressing our brainpower."

"I'm sure one day I'll bother to take offense to that." The wood fox raised an eyebrow. "So, how are things, my old friend?"

"Fairly decent. I'm overworking myself, but nothing new there."

"You look horrible. Are you sleeping?"

"Have you been speaking to my secretary?" demanded Czejak with mock asperity.

Hallman shook his head, starting to smile indulgently. "No. It's like you said. I know you."

The coyote nodded. "I see that. How's Tim? He must be in high school by now."

"Oh yes. He's paying almost no attention to his coursework. He's nearly as bad as I was."

"I take it that doesn't bother you?"

"I've never held junior-high in great esteem. It's nothing to get worked up over."

Czejak grunted, placing his leather-bound menu to the side of the table. "It's a pity so many parents don't share your philosophy."

"Oh? Care to tell me about this case that's got you so worked up?"

The coyote blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"You're easier to read than these menus, Andrei. Though that might be because the writing is so absurdly small. You wear your emotions on your sleeves."

"You know I can't tell you, Josh. Privacy and all that."

"Privacy for an anonymous fur that I'll never meet. Come on, I'm always interested to hear about your work."

"Oh, I don't know..."

"Andrei, if you're going to be psychoanalyzed by another psychologist, would you like it to be me or some stuffy Yale prick?"

"Technically, you're a psychiatrist. I don't want any of your treatments." Czejak drew himself up, pretending to be condescending. "I'd like to keep my mind free of drugs. Clear and pure."

The wood fox laughed aloud. "Well, next time you get a schizophrenic, try to keep him stable by huddling around a campfire singing 'kum-bay-ya'."

"I doubt my singing would cure a mental illness as opposed to its usual effect."

They both chuckled, and a waitress came over to take their orders.

When she left, Hallman interlaced the fingers of his paws and placed his elbows upon the tabletop. "Seriously though, Andrei. You can tell me. Mine ears hunger."

Czejak sighed. "Well, alright. Let's see. There is a cheetah boy, roughly eleven years of age, who I've placed with a cheetah foster parent - with the hope of making the arrangement permanent."

"Sounds fairly sane to me."

"The problem is, someone else had that idea once, but that first time around, the boy was severely abused for months."

"I think I see where the issue is. Depending on his level of distress you have to call it off."

Czejak hung his head. "It's a total mess, Joshua. It's a total mess. The kid tells me he's trying, and I believe him. Oh god do I believe him. He wants to make it work. I want it to even more. We all do."

"Is there some reason why it has to?"

"Yes. If this fur won't take him in, he probably won't accept another one. This is probably our last chance."

"You could try medication to reduce his anxiety. I can prescribe it if you like."

"He would never agree to it."

"You could insist, if you know what I mean."

Czejak shook his head vigorously. "No, for a great many reasons! If we did that, regardless of the benefits it'd reap, if any, the boy would never speak to me again."

"You don't want that, do you?"

"Well, of course not, how could I continue his therapy if he refuses to talk to me?"

The wood fox smiled slightly. "That wasn't the question, Andrei. The question was if you'd mind."

For a bemused moment, Czejak stared at his friend. He swallowed. "Yes," he choked. "I'd mind a lot."

Hallman's smile widened, showing his pristine white incisors. "You see? That wasn't too hard." The fox straightened in his chair. "If this boy wouldn't accept placement, why is he in a home with someone that reminds him of a past abuser?"

"It's for an experiment. Rather a controversial one, actually. He benefits from it too, or so I hope."

"Can you tell me anything about this experiment?"

"Only that it's about testing whether a certain, uh, kind of fur makes a more suitable guardian in cases like these. Though in this case, probably not so much. I had high hopes for this case too, but it seems we missed a few things."

"Certain kind of...?"

The coyote smiled apologetically. "Sorry, that is something that must be kept quiet for at least a little while."

"I see. You'll make the right decisions, Andrei. You always, always have."

"Joshua..." Czejak lidded his eyes.

"What is it?"

"You know, as well as I do, that that's not the truth."

"A certain kind of what?" Nick scowled at the screen.

Gary pointed at the bottom of the large television. "Power-up. Pick that thing there up, that glowing orb thing, and your gun starts to shoot rockets. You'll blow everything to hell. Try it."

The topless kit nodded. "Sounds good to me."

For several more minutes, Gary continued to watch. Both the game and the player. But finally, he jumped. "Oh, shit!" he gasped, looking at the clock. "It's nearly two already."

"So?"

Gary sighed. "I need to do something for work. They emailed me last night asking me to telecommute today. Again."

Nick snorted. "I got no idea what the fuck that meant."

The grownup laughed. "It just means they need me to get on my computer for a few hours. I'm not supposed to be working at all, but some idiot royally fucked up a few days ago. I have to go fix his mistakes."

Nick looked at him with a blank expression. "Yeah. Okay."

"I won't be long. You... uh... you can come upstairs with me if you like."

Nick looked at the screen for a long moment, then he stood. "Yeah." He tugged down the waist of his ¾ pants a little and picked up his beer. "Alright."

Gary chuckled nervously. "You look good in those. I know that sounds totally gay, but it's true."

Nick frowned. "Gay?"

"I'm just kidding."

The kit smirked slightly, but averted his gaze.

When they got to Gary's office, Gary took his seat. "Oh, crap, yeah forgot we only had one chair up here."

Nick shrugged and leaned on the wall next to the door. Ironically, Gary knew that was where he slouched to speak to Czejak yesterday.

Silently, the boy watched the grownup at the computer for minute or so in silence, then he shifted. "Hey, how come you live alone?"

Twisting around in his chair, Gary grinned at the kit. "You asking if I'm gay?"

"No. You'd have a boyfriend if you were gay, right?"

"Maybe not." Gary laughed. "I don't know, Nick. Haven't met the right fur yet."

Nick nodded, and Gary started to drum his fingers on the keyboard.

"Uh. When I was... about four years ago, I lived closer to the city." The grownup sighed and scratched just under his earring. "I was sort of going nowhere. Worked for a printing company, and my boss was an asshole. Was going nowhere, and fast. When my mom died, she left this house to me. So I moved back here, got a way better job, somehow, but there's nothing really here." He shifted in his leather office chair. "Nobody is really here."

Nick stared at the floor intently. "G-Gary?"

"Yeah?"

"Um. D-did you love your mom?"

Gary turned around again. "... Yeah. More than anything."

"Why the hell did you move then?"

"Good question." Gary shrugged. "I wanted time away. We'd had a disagreement. Dad had died the year before I left. I didn't get along too well with him, mom didn't like that I didn't go to the funeral. I said some things. Eventually I just felt we all needed some time. Turns out, we didn't have enough."

The boy fell silent, so Gary continued trying to establish his connection to his work computer.

"Come on..." Gary grumbled. "If some idiot has screwed with the VPN..."

Nick suddenly snorted in derision. "I hate my mom," he said flatly. "I hope she dies."

Gary frowned. "How about your dad?"

"... I don't know. I dunno."

Finally, a beep sounded from Gary's speakers. "Don't worry, Nick." Gary groaned and reached across his desk for his phone. "Shit. Give me a few minutes. I need to call the guys at work..."

Nick shook his head. "I'll be back later..." he grumbled.

"Okay... uh. Come back in if you like. I kinda like talking."

The kit froze, staring at the adult with watery eyes. Suddenly, he darted out of the room.

This was all wrong. Everything was wrong.

He couldn't believe what he was going to do. What he had to do.

It was all wrong.

It wasn't long to go. Nick knew it had to be near three. He dropped the plastic bag by the front door.

As he touched the door handle, he realized just how absurd it all was. Clad in the second set of clothes Gary had bought for him, clothes he'd refused to wear for so long out of sheer stubbornness, he was going to go out there and...

But all the same, he couldn't back down. Adam and his crew had caught him. He was trapped. They wouldn't let him get away without paying them back, even if it was a complete pile of bullshit. Nick knew he didn't owe them anything, and he knew that they knew that too.

Oddly uncomfortable, he adjusted the white and blue patterned t-shirt and black tracksuit pants he now wore. They fit well, Gary had guessed correctly, but everything just felt uncomfortable at the moment.

Though he had felt this intense nervousness, such powerful restlessness, before, tonight it was tinged with an overweening feeling of nauseating wrongness. What was about to happen was wrong.

He pushed the heavy door aside and slipped out into the darkness of Gary's front lawn, making sure to take the heavy plastic bag with him. What it held, he would need if he was going to do this.

Still, he couldn't believe what he was going to do. Nick knew he'd done a lot of stupid shit before, but this had to take the cake. This had to be a mistake, but why? Why did he feel it was such a mistake?

Why did it feel like he was going to... fuck everything up once again by doing this?

Inching forward quietly, he scanned the scarcely lit garden, looking for any signs of activity. Spotting none, he instead looked for hiding places.

Gary's yard was huge, but mostly bare. A few trees, and some flowers nearer the front door.

However, this dark night, with such heavy clouds obscuring the moon's weak glow, the trees drew dense shadows, blackening entire sections of the garden. It wasn't perfect cover, but there was some cover nonetheless.

He stuck close to the house, hiding in the shadows there as he searched the yard.

There was a low whistle from near one of the larger trees, closer to the edge of the block and auspiciously on the other side of the building from the master bedroom. There were a few straggly bushes lining the roadside. Nick put his head down and slinked quickly across the lawn, conscientiously avoiding the dead leaves carpeting it.

"Nice timing," murmured Adam. The muscular jaguar had been leaning on the trunk of the broad, leafy tree, on the side away from the house itself.

Nick looked around quickly, assessing the situation. The other two were nearby, crouched on the other side of the bushes.

"So, what's it gonna be, kid?" The jaguar stood, moving closer until he towered over Nick.

The kit closed his eyes. He couldn't believe he was about to do this. His decision was insane.

"I... here." Nick proffered the bag in his paw to the jaguar. "I can't let you in there man."

"What?!" Adam opened the bag, his expression, obscured by the lack of light, becoming a mixture of shock and anger. "The fuck is your problem kid? Are you fuckin' crazy?"

"Hey, all that shit is worth like five hundred bucks!" Nick protested in a growl. "It's still more than what I owe you."

"Yeah? I already have three. They sell for fuckin' pocket money!" The jaguar's eyes narrowed. "If you want out of here, you'd better fuckin' come up with something better than this shit."

Nick swallowed. "I-I ain't going anywhere."

"Kid, what the fuck? Who do you think you are?"

"I don't want to go!" Nick hissed. "I can't! Not yet!"

"Fuck him!" one of Adam's friends said from the other side of the bushes. "Let's go in anyway, man. Ain't driving out here to hide in the bushes."

Nick thought quickly. "You can't!" he insisted. "They have alarms and shit in there, and my parents have fuckin' shotguns comin' out their asses. Just, c'mon, take this shit. I have to stay here. Just get the fuck out of here!"

Adam stared at him for a moment, then he shook his head angrily. "Nah, no way shit-dick, I don't think so." He reached out and grasped Nick's upper arm.

Instinctively, Nick struck at the older male's arm, smacking it away. "Get the fuck off me!" he snapped unthinkingly.

The jaguar's response was swift and brutal. He slammed his paw onto Nick's neck, grabbing his arm again, and shoved the kit into the thick tree they hid behind. "Little shit! Come here!"

Nick tried to struggle, but the hard impact with the trunk had winded him. Adam ripped him away from the trunk, and started to drag him between two of the bushes. Towards the street.

"Shit, no!" the kit gasped, stumbling. He tried to resist, to keep away from the edge of the property, but the adult driving him along was too strong.

Adam pulled him upright, just in time for one of his friends to punch him in the solar plexus. Immediately, Nick collapsed to his knees, and Adam shoved him to the ground.

"I don't care who you think you are, ya little dickhead," the jaguar snarled quietly, his features darkened but visible under a sickly yellow streetlight, "but nobody screws me around like this. Nobody fucks with me!"

Nick tried to stand, but his chest hurt too much and he couldn't breathe. When he tried to speak, he started coughing violently.

"Yeah, I said I'd burn this place down," continued Adam. "That's goin' a bit far. I think I have an idea though. Yo, get the fuckin' can. Let's move."

Barely able to move, Nick rolled onto his side, struggling to breathe. He knew he had to get out of here, but it was so hard. This wasn't the first time he'd been hit like that, but it wasn't something anyone could get used to. The pain was incredible and his chest felt constricted, so much so that the rest of his body wasn't listening. As if it couldn't hear his brain over the shrieking agony in his solar plexus.

Suddenly, something wet and cold started to drench his upper body. He took a shaking, painful breath and gagged. "What...?!" he managed to wheeze before starting to cough again.

His wrist was grabbed and he was easily dragged off the grass and onto the hard bitumen.

The pain started to fade, and with every ragged breath, Nick started to taste something. It was a powerful stink, a chemical, and he recognized it. Each breath nearly made him puke. It couldn't...

Oh. Holy shit.

The kit's eyes flew wide and he started to struggle.

No. They wouldn't! They wouldn't do that! It was insane. They were going to kill him!

On all sides of him he heard them start to laugh. Sadistic chuckles as they liberally soaked him with what felt like an entire gasoline canister.

Panic flooded his mind, and he tried to cry out, to no avail. Stories of furs murdered or brutally bashed for failing to pay dealers, ones that he'd heard on the street so often, came rushing back in an instant - yes, they would do this!

Manic desperation assumed control. Gasping and crying, Nick fought to stand. Though he managed to get his legs under him for a brief instant, before he could get any weight on them, he was tripped backwards. His head collided with the road and for a second all he could see was a meaningless black.

"Ungh!" When his sight returned, what he saw made him freeze in fear.

Adam stood not five feet away, a lighter in his paw, his glowering face lit by its flickering dark-orange flame. The dizzying stench of gasoline wafted up from his own clothes and fur. Thick and pungent.

"I've known you for a little while, Nicky-boy," drawled the jaguar, taking a step closer. "I was sick of your shit from day one." He held the lighter up, and Nick's eyes locked onto the long, thin tendril of flame. At nearly half-a-foot tall, it licked threateningly at the sky. "The real world is a world of real consequences, kid. It seems all happy and fun sitting in a fuckin' room with your friends making fag-porn for pocket change, but you don't think for a second you can get away with not paying a guy like me for what I give you and when I make you an offer, you fuckin' take it!"

Nick retched. "Shit!" he choked out. It hurt too much to speak; he wasn't even able to plead. "D-don't! Holy shit!"

"I got good news for you though," Adam grinned. "The consequences aren't that serious. This time." He snapped the lighter shut. "You want to stay here? Fine, whatever. I don't give a shit. But nobody gets to diss me when I'm bein' generous. If I see you around again, I'll light your ass up like a bonfire. You want to stay here, you get to stay here, bitch."

Gawking uncomprehendingly, Nick started to shake all over.

"Get him off the road before the fuckin' idiot gets himself run over."

One of Adam's friends, who Nick still didn't recognize, pulled him to his feet. A big balled-up fist smashed into his upper abdomen again, and a searing acid-like pain spread throughout his entire body.

The thug viciously shoved the nigh-weightless kit at the bushes. He tripped on the curb and went sailing into the spindly brush. Again too pained to move, Nick just laid there, groaning.

"Only reason we ain't putting your ass in the emergency room is coz you're a kid," he heard Adam growl furiously. "But that's only good one time, dickhead. If I see you again, you can take a trip to intensive care. Take that shit, guys. Fuck it, we're getting' something for drivin' out here."

Gary groaned and rolled over.

An irritating beeping noise had been interrupting his sleeping for hours. At first he'd thought it was a garbage truck, though his dozy brain took several hours to realize that, if it was, it was taking its time picking up the trash.

Finally he sat up, blinking owlishly.

Casting a glance over to his master bedroom's large window, he saw the lavish homes of the suburb illuminated by only the weak pre-dawn light.

"Uh, damn it," he grumbled, throwing back the thick quilt and sheets. He stood and stretched, as always in the morning clad in only his pajama bottoms. In fact, he'd worn these exact clothes yesterday.

That brought a smile to Gary's sleepy face. Not since his teenage years had he been able to wake up in pajamas and stay like that for an entire twenty-four hour period. Truth be told, he didn't like to do it anyway, but the fact he was able to do it for once was quite a change.

But the beeping continued to grate on his ears.

"What the hell is that?!"

He scoured the bedroom until at long last he found his cell phone all the way back where it usually was. On the bedside table. The noise was coming from it. Cursing to himself, he snatched it up.

When he pressed the cancel button, rather than lighting up with the usual screen, Gary was surprised to see a white screen with large, blocky text...

"What...?" he mumbled, blinking until it came into focus. "Boundary violation, three-twelve... Oh shit. Oh shit!"

He firmly pressed the "OK" button. The G.P.S. tracking program immediately came up, but to Gary's confusion the blinking indicator was right on top of his house.

"A glitch?" He put the phone in his pajama pocket.

The cheetah grabbed his bedside digital clock. It claimed it was only five in the morning.

Swearing again, Gary pulled on a t-shirt. It was too cold.

He pushed open his bedroom door and stopped dead. There was an odd smell. Something like gasoline. It was stinking out the entire house, and he was fairly sure it wasn't there when he went to bed. Wrinkling his nose, he crossed the hallway.

"Nick?" he said quietly, rapping on the kit's door. "Something's wrong, I need to talk to you." Without waiting for an answer, he opened the door.

Whatever he expected, it wasn't what he saw.

Visible from the doorway, on the far side of the room, Nick had huddled in a corner. The cloying stench of gasoline was overpowering. The kit trembled visibly, staring into middle-distance with haunted eyes. His new clothes and matted fur were wet and slightly stained.

"Oh, shit! Nick!" Gary stepped into the room quickly, darting over to the boy. "Nick! What happened!?"

He knelt by the kit, who only then seemed to notice them.

Nick promptly scampered further into the corner, gasping loudly. "No!" He hid his head in his arms.

"Oh, my God!" Gary froze, half reaching for the kit and half drawing away. "Nick! Please! It's okay! It's just Gary."

The boy sobbed once, curling up even tighter.

Gary lightly touched the kit's arm. "Nick! Oh, shit! Please look at me! Look at me!" He winced. "Fuck! No, it's okay. You don't have to look at me. You don't have to look. Y-you're covered in gas, Nick. What happened?"

No response, though Nick's breathing picked up. He started to cough.

"Fuck! Nick, please listen, you're covered in gasoline, we have to get it off." Gary knelt a little closer but moved slightly to the side, giving the kit an escape. "If we don't get it off, you'll be sick, and it'll burn your skin right off."

Nick shook his head.

"Please, Nick! I can't let you sit there covered in fucking gas! If you don't let me do it, I'll have to call the police and ambulance."

At last the boy raised his head and stared almost unseeingly at Gary. "N-no... don't!"

"It's alright! I won't get you in trouble. You're safe now." Gary extended a paw. "Come on, Nick. I won't hurt you. You're safe, it's okay."

Again, Nick shook his head.

"You can trust me, Nick, I swear." Gary swallowed anxiously. He had to calm down; he had to calm Nick down. Panicking and issuing what could be taken as threats wasn't what he needed to do. "I just need to get you into the shower. I won't peek or anything. Can I take you to the bathroom, Nick? I won't touch you unless you tell me I can, okay?"

The pause was unbearable. Nick's horrified eyes just seemed to stare right through Gary. But at long last he gave a jerky nod.

"Alright, I'll just help you up, okay?" Gary stood slowly, grasping one of Nick's arms, and placing his paw underneath the other. He lifted the kit easily - more than easily. Nick was disturbingly light, more so than Gary expected. "Come on, let's wash this stuff out."

Nick stumbled and almost reeled into the wall but Gary held him fast. "Whoa, yeah that's probably the gas. It's making me kinda dizzy already..."

The kit silently cooperated, and Gary led him to the guest bathroom. He switched on the light and extraction fan immediately, while Nick simply shivered in the middle of the tiled room. When Nick swayed dangerously, Gary quickly caught him again.

"Oh, shit... Nick, I need to get your clothes off... uh, all of them." Gary faltered. "A-are you okay with that? I'm not going to hurt you. I know you probably don't want me to see you naked but I have to get these clothes off you."

Nick nodded weakly, disoriented.

Obviously dizzied and unwell, the scrawny, usually unfriendly kit barely had the strength or will to move as his shirt was eased over his head. When Gary knelt and grasped the waist of his tracksuit pants, however, he gave a weak cry and tried to push the adult's arms away.

"Nick, it's okay!" Gary repeated, noticing he was also trembling. He kept his voice as controlled as possible; it was so very hard. What he was doing felt wrong on so many levels. "I'm not going to hurt you, or anything like that. I'm not like that. I'm not your last foster parent."

The kit whimpered aloud. A sound Gary had never expected to hear from him. However, after a moment's indecision, he stopped fighting. His face contorted with what almost seemed like pain, but he stood still, allowing Gary to come close once again.

Taking a deep, gasoline-filled breath, Gary grasped the kit's pants and pulled them right down, along with the underwear beneath it. Nick flinched.

Gary looked the almost nude kit over. He swayed on the spot, drawing in on himself, covering his privates with his paws and wrists. Strangely, the way he did so seemed shy and somehow embarrassed, as though he didn't want Gary to even notice he was trying to cover up. But Gary had to pay more attention to the boy's fur: even areas that had been covered with clothing had been discolored and matted.

Slowly, Gary guided Nick to sit on the edge of the bath and struggled to remove his shoes and socks while helping the kit to keep his balance. Eventually, he managed to shed all of the gasoline-soaked clothing, and he helped his reluctant charge sit in the bathtub.

"Alright, hold on, just gonna get the water running. I sure hope that thing on your leg is waterproof. Otherwise too bad for it, huh?"

Nick shakily wrapped his arms around his knees as the water started to fall from the showerhead. Gary adjusted the taps to the settings he'd usually have them for himself before he grasped a nearby laundry hamper, left here for the guests that Gary never had, and quickly threw the soaked clothes into it.

His phone started to ring in his pocket.

"Oh, fuck off!" he snapped, quickly hitting the hang-up button.

After a minute, it became clear the gas wasn't being washed out. Nick didn't plan on moving at all. Gary swallowed nervously.

"Nick?" he asked, touching the kit's heaving shoulders. "Nick, the gasoline won't come out unless you wash it. You need to use the soap and everything."

But Nick didn't make a move. Didn't even acknowledge Gary.

"Nick? If you don't want to, will you let me do it?"

At last, Nick sniffed. "I-I don't care..." he whispered hoarsely, scarcely audible over the shower. "You'll do it anyway."

"I'm sorry, Nick. If we don't do it, I'll need to call someone to take you to hospital where they'll do it."

Shivering, Nick gave another jerky nod.

Seeing nothing for it, Gary stepped into the bathtub, soaking the ankles of his pajamas. "Ugh, this is going to be fun," he said, trying to lighten the mood. "Nothing's worse than wet ankles."

Gary picked up the shampoo and popped the lid open. At the sound, the huddled kit before him tensed and constricted himself tighter. Gary froze and almost dropped the plastic bottle.

This was unbelievable. He hadn't even touched the prickly boy before today. Bathing him was completely unthinkable; part of him wanted to drop the shampoo and flee the bathroom immediately. Yet he wasn't in the tub with Nick because he was being a creep... he had to get the chemicals off the kid's body, out from the fur that had trapped it close to his skin, and do it fast or else Nick might as well have been doused in acid.

Remembering that helped a little.

Reaching out tentatively, Gary inspected the almost delicate shoulders and back that sat in front of him, barely higher than his knees. Still he couldn't bring himself to touch the kit, not yet. The fur had been densely matted by the running water. Stubborn smudges blotted his short coat and overall it was darkened by dirt that hadn't been properly washed in months. Gary realized that, in spite of that, Nick was likely cleaner now than he had been at many times in his life before being sent to the center.

There was a faint varicolored glimmer in the water coating Nick's body as well as pooling around him. Gasoline. Gary's stomach lurched - the kid had been drenched in the stuff and had sat there, dumbfounded, for hours while it settled into his fur. To clean it all Gary would have to scrub pretty hard. The last thing he wanted to do.

But Nick was out of it. Short of dragging the nearly catatonic kit to the hospital, Gary had to do it himself.

Shaking his head in dismay, Gary held the bottle above the peak of one of the kit's shoulders and squeezed a thick line of the white, slimy liquid from there to the opposite. His paws shook as he brought them gently down onto those peaks.

When Nick jolted from the touch, he almost pulled away. But Nick said nothing, so Gary hesitantly started to work the frothing liquid through the kit's fur. As he did, immediately the bubbles that slid towards the drain slowly turned a metallic, shimmering brown. A filthy cocktail of dirt and petroleum.

Gary swallowed. He felt terrible. The two skinny, warm shoulders under his paws were shaking, and Gary found himself being extremely careful. Gentle. Somehow afraid he could break them. Distinctly he could feel the shoulder bones, the top of the kit's fragile collar bone and those slender arms. It was hard to believe this was the aggressive, standoffish boy who rebuffed him so angrily on the first day he was in Gary's house.

This was Nick beneath the covering. Without his clothes on. Without any protection at all. He'd pick fights with fully grown adults, but he was a starving, wiry child. One who could never win the fights he started; and knew that.

Eventually Gary managed to wash out the slim cub's back, neck and arms to the best of his ability. It wasn't easy - Nick's fur wasn't clean in the first place, and the gasoline didn't come out easily. But he knew the real challenge was coming. He'd only done at best a quarter of the doused fur.

"Okay, Nick..." the grownup said. "We need to do the front side now. Can you stand up and turn around or something?"

With Gary's help, Nick did in fact stand and turn around. His breathing picked up, and Gary looked away, making it clear he wasn't looking at anything indecent. However, when he knelt to touch the kit's chest, Nick flinched backwards in what seemed to be terror.

"NO!" he yelled, suddenly looking as though faced with a murderer.

Pushing desperately away from Gary, he slipped and slammed onto the bottom of the bathtub, landing hard on his back. There was a clonk as the base of his skull made contact with the metal, and the impact splashed water high into the air. Nick gave a winded cry as the soapy, gasoline-contaminated water rained down all over the bathroom.

"Shit! Nick!!" Gary moved to get closer, but Nick curled up defensively, scurrying as close to the other side of the bath as he could.

"Stop!" he gasped, shaking his head vigorously. "Stop! Don't!"

"Nick, I won't--"

"Get the doc!!" Nick's breathing had picked up again. Too deep and too fast. Gary backed away, alarmed. "Go away! Call the doc!"

Gary raised both paws, stepping out of the bathtub. "Okay! I will! Nick, I will! Calm down! I'll call Czejak. Just please try to get that stuff off of you!"

There was no reply, just more panicked hyperventilating.

"Crap!" Gary cursed, dashing out of the room and pulling out his cell phone.

Gary sat in his room, staring blankly at the floor.

At long, long last there was a knock on his door and he looked up to see Czejak's haunted face.

"Okay, Gary," the coyote said softly. "I've got him to wash properly. It's been some time since he did anyway."

The cheetah nodded. "Has he told you what happened?"

"No. He said he wants you to know too, so he hasn't told me yet."

"Really?" Gary frowned. "Then why did he want rid of me?"

Czejak slipped into the room. "He didn't, Gary. From what I saw when I got here, and what you told me, I have a theory."

"Let me guess. He didn't want some creepy guy touching him while he's naked." Gary snorted. "Honestly, I don't blame him."

"I don't think it's quite so simple." Czejak scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Did the monitoring company call you, Gary?"

"Not immediately. I don't think he was out of the boundary for more than a minute or so, and he came back in - don't they only make a fuss if it's been ninety seconds?

"Yes, I think so. Though I was told not to let Nick know that."

"I couldn't take the call anyway, I had to get Nick into the shower." Gary looked at the coyote with pleading eyes. "I know that might not go down well with him, but I couldn't leave him like that! I swear I wasn't forcing him or anything!"

"Gary, if he had a problem with you seeing him naked, he would never, never allow it. Traumatized or not. In fact, all things considered I'm astonished he let you get as far as you did. It must've been difficult for him; it was very brave of him to have let you do what you did."

"What the hell is going on?"

Czejak raised an eyebrow. "Did something happen last night? Any indication at all as to how this happened? He's terrified, Gary."

"Nothing, I swear. I didn't hear anything. I don't see how he could've gotten covered in gas either. I don't keep any just lying around."

"Whatever happened, this could be very bad. He's still a little dizzy and feeling a bit nauseous, though I don't think there'll be any chemical burns. You did as well as you could." With a resigned sigh, Czejak shrugged. "We might have to contact the hospital. Possibly the police. I'll need to find out what happened and record it."

"I know." Gary stood and crossed the spacious bedroom to his bookcase. He stared at the spines, not really taking the titles in. "Is he okay now?"

"I wouldn't say that, no. But he's much calmer."

"We have to ask him what happened."

"Yes, I agree. He asked me to get you, actually." Czejak paused briefly. "Gary, he's not behaving normally. Something really gave him a scare, I think."

"I know, I can see that."

"Well, let's go ask what it was, I suppose."

The guest room's window was wide open, and Nick sat shivering on his stripped-down bed, clad in only underwear and a thick towel he clutched tight around his body. When the two grownups walked in, he stared at their shoes.

"Are you alright, Nick?" Gary asked before he could help himself.

For almost minute, Nick seemed to be ignoring him, trembling atop the bed. Eventually he managed another simple nod.

"Can you tell us what happened, Nick?" enquired Czejak. "How did you get covered in gasoline?"

The kit hesitated.

"You're not in trouble for anything."

Nick pulled the towel tighter around him. "Yeah."

"Why do you think you would be?"

"I-I didn't want to let them in. So I gave them..." The kit closed his eyes tightly. "Shit! I didn't want to go so... Fuck!"

"Who are we talking about, Nick?"

But Nick shook his head. "I tried to give them the game-thing. They were gonna fuckin' set me on fire."

Czejak's eyes slowly widened. "On fire?!" he repeated. "Wait a moment, Nick. Can you tell us who it was? Who tried to set you on fire?"

"Fuck!" Nick sniffed. "You're gonna send me back, aren't you? Fuckin' hell, I'm sorry! Alright?!"

Gary blinked. "Hold on..." he said slowly. "What happened?"

The kit clutched at his head. "Oh, shit. Shiiiit..."

"Nick." Czejak knelt a little closer. "If you were attacked, then we have to call the police."

Nick seized up. "No!!" he hissed, laying his ears back.

"You don't understand, Nick. We have no choice."

"I won't talk to any fuckin' cops!" Nick turned away, shuffling around until he faced the wall.

"Nick, if we don't let the police investigate, Child Protective Services will cancel your involvement in this experiment. You'll be sent back to the center."

The cub growled, getting to his paws on the other side of the bed. "Then don't fucking tell them!"

"You know you can't ask me to do that."

"I just fucking did!" Nick sobbed, drooping in what Gary thought had to be defeat. "Don't! Doc, don't do it!"

Gary looked from the boy to his counselor. "Wait, hold on. What actually happened?"

It seemed Nick was ignoring him again, shaking noticeably and fending off tears. But at last he swore loudly. Slowly, he looked around until Gary could see his wet, reddened eyes. He had to smother a sudden irrational urge to rush over to the distressed kit.

For the briefest moment, their gazes met.

"N-Nick? What is it?"

Nick burst into tears.

Czejak sat on the edge of the bed, ostentatiously looking around at the room.

"This really is a nice room," he said jovially. "This is certainly better than my own guest room. Much better view from that window too."

Silence.

Sighing, Czejak looked down at the towel-wrapped cheetah cub curled up on the carpet. "Are you okay?" he asked solicitously.

"Go away," was the quiet response.

The coyote nodded. "Okay." But the moment he stood, Nick looked up urgently.

"Wait!"

"Yes? What is it?"

Nick took a deep breath. "He's pissed at me..." he whispered.

Czejak chuckled. "You mean Gary? He isn't, Nick. Just a little surprised. He's just letting you have some time to yourself - I'm the one hanging around here."

Nick grunted and wiped his nose. "Whatever."

"I have a question to ask, Nick. When I came here, and you were in the bathroom..." Czejak sat down again. "You were very upset."

The kit glared at his counselor for a moment, but said nothing.

"Gary told me about what happened in the bathroom." The coyote frowned slightly. "Nick, have you ever felt like that before?"

"... No."

"You haven't? Are you sure?"

"No! Shit, I just said no!" Nick looked away resolutely. "Fuck off!"

"Nick."

"What now?!" The kit growled slightly.

"Never mind." Czejak got to his paws again. "I have to go talk to Gary. I'll be back soon."

Nick didn't respond, so Czejak wandered out of the room. He paused to half-close the kit's door, before glancing down at the carpet.

The thick, white carpet had been slightly stained, with off-color splotches that lead back from Nick's room to downstairs. The powerful scent of gasoline lingered, and Czejak suppressed a bout of nausea as he started to descend the staircase.

As expected, Gary had left the front door, along with the windows and every other opening he reasonably could, wide open. The air was moving through the foyer, but it had made the house very cold. Czejak could taste the cool humidity of the breeze with every breath. It wouldn't be long until another rainstorm hit.

It wasn't until Czejak thought to look in the laundry that he spotted Gary through the open back door. The cheetah was outside, hanging Nick's wet clothing on a small, portable washing frame, focused on his task.

"Gary?" called Czejak, stepping outside. "Can I speak to you?"

Straightening out the wet clothes on the metal frame, Gary waved the counselor over.

When Czejak approached, Gary gave a deep sigh. "Well," he said, stepping away from the metal frame, "I had to have at 'em with the garden hose, then hand wash them, and now I don't dare put them in the drier."

"Oh?"

"I don't think I got all the gas out. Didn't want to run the risk of the drier igniting them." Gary shook his head sadly. "I'll leave them out in the rain, then try again tomorrow. I have no idea what to do with gas-soaked clothes."

"What about your carpet?" Czejak enquired gently.

Gary shot him a wry smile. "I'll probably be able to get it all out. But the fumes are going to be a problem."

"Yes, be careful." Czejak returned the smile.

"I will. Ugh, I haven't used a washing line of any kind for ten years. This was my mom's old one."

A car drove past the block and Gary immediately turned to look. However, the vehicle just coasted on by, down the main street.

"Shit..." he mumbled, turning back to the little washing line.

"Nick said they wouldn't return."

Gary immediately rounded on the coyote. "Really?" he demanded. "You trust him on that? You believe him?"

"I do."

"That's all well and good, doc, but I don't think Nick even believes himself anymore."

Czejak blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I don't even know." Gary closed his eyes tightly. "This is getting too much. It's bad enough that he's turning psycho and destroying things himself without bringing drug dealers here. Nick thinks they won't come back, but why not? How can he know?"

"Gary, why would they? It's too much effort. They thought Nick would let them in and they'd be able to take whatever they wanted from downstairs. Without Nick's help, they'd have to break and enter, risking tripping alarms or a confrontation; they might as well target a random house rather than yours."

"Except for the fact that Nick is here." Gary laughed sourly. "Except for the fact they want that kid."

"If that is true, don't you want to protect him?"

The cheetah stared at him helplessly. "How? What with? He told these thugs I have guns when I don't even own a baseball bat!"

"... I know. But it makes good sense that these furs won't return. Nick is over two hours drive from where they likely operate." Czejak checked his cell phone. "I might need to go very soon..." he mused. "I have another kid I need to see today. She's sixteen. Another abuse victim. This one's suicidal, and I'm not going to leave her out to dry."

"You don't need to justify yourself to me, doc."

"Before I leave... listen, Gary, don't talk to him about his behavior in the shower. I'm starting to think I missed something. Or rather, that Nick's done an incredible job of keeping something from me, from us all. Just give me a chance to think this over, and check some records at the center."

"Whatever you say, Captain Cryptic."

Czejak grinned. "You know, I think I see why you're growing so quickly on Nick. You're more alike than you think."

"I'll try to not view that as offensive." Gary sighed. "You're right, Andrei. I'm sorry. It's just... this is fucking stressful. It's scaring me. Things were going so well this week too."

"Things are still going well, Gary!" Abruptly, Czejak stepped much closer to the cheetah. "Gary, Nick had a chance to return home. To run away - something he's done several times before. He didn't take this chance. Why?"

"I... don't know."

"Because he didn't want these bastards to hurt you! He was protecting your property, trying to get rid of these dangerous furs without causing any inconvenience to you. All at the cost of sacrificing this opportunity to escape - and perhaps more. I can scarcely believe it, it's amazing. Getting back to his friends has been the most important thing in this boy's life for nearly a year, and he turned the chance down because of you; someone he's only know for twelve days! It was wrong, so he didn't do it. You'd be hard pressed to find anyone else with that kind of morality." Czejak wiped his eyes. "So, please, I beg of you, remember this before you criticize him! They threatened to kill him because he wanted to protect you, and he handled this the only way he knew how."

Gary sniffed. "You sure know how to make a guy feel bad, Andrei."

"My training and motives lie in the other direction. These are just the facts."

"I know."

Czejak chuckled. "Alright, I need to go now. Anything else I can do?'

"Let Nick know that I'm going to need a shower myself..." Turning around, Gary forced a smile. "I got some of that crap on me too, and I need one anyway. Try to keep him from running away while I'm in the shower."

"I'll tell him, but running away is not what I expect from him just now."

"Still. Be sure of it."

It had gotten very cold, very suddenly.

Gary had locked open his window, and with his fur still damp and wearing nothing but underwear, Nick found himself trembling again.

He glared at the open window with dull resentment.

The room still stunk of gasoline. He still felt faint and sick, but Czejak and... Gary... had helped a little. He'd had no idea what to do, and he'd froze up inside. A single, horrible fact had kept reiterating itself in his head: he had almost been murdered.

It wasn't something he thought in words. It was an idea. A fucking scary one. He had almost died. It wasn't the first time, technically, but this had been different. That idea, that shocking fact had left him stunned and scared.

But now something else was starting to intrude on Nick's chaotic thoughts. Questions. How had Adam found him? What did he mean by a phone bill? And worst of all... could Nick ever return to his friends?

Had his stupid decision just... fucked it all up?

Nick hung his head, sobbing. Bitter tears of self-hatred started to seep from his eyes. He had done it again. Like a fuckin' moron, he hadn't thought about what he was doing. He'd done this. As always, he couldn't ever make the right decision. He always fucked up.

At least usually he had the excuse, to himself at least, of losing control. His emotions suddenly would fly into a disordered whirlwind of anger and indignation, and he'd say things without thinking. The way he'd pull away from a hot iron, he'd say and do such fucking stupid shit.

This time, he made the choice.

It wasn't just him though! Those bastards--!

Sour, impotent fury and frustration roiled up inside him so quickly he thought he'd burst into flames anyway.

What fucking assholes!! Why had Adam done this? How could he expect Nick to do that? It was his choice to not do it, to not do what they wanted! Not theirs! He didn't have to do that shit!! Why the fuck was he never allowed to choose?!

Those worthless pieces of--!

Oh no.

Oh, fuckin' hell no. Czejak's reaction. When he brought up how Nick had been all crazy when he walked in.

Nick knew his counselor, almost as well as his counselor knew him. The coyote was hiding something. He'd guessed. Even worse, Gary had seen it happen.

His entire body seized up.

If Czejak found out, how long until they tried to drug him? Fuck with his mind the way he knew happened to so many kits. He saw it almost daily at the center. Or even Gary - staying with Gary meant he could do it too.

If they did, either at the center or in this very house... Nick had nowhere to run to. Not anymore. Except maybe to the streets again...

But... what was out there on the streets? More furs like Adam? Other lunatics, others that wanted to use him then screw him over? How long would he survive before someone else tried to... hurt him? How long would he survive sleeping in wet alleys? He couldn't go back to that. He'd never escape anyway. The tether on his leg would lead the police right to him, and escaping from Wilder Springs was impossible. He'd never seen a single opening, and he had been looking. Nobody ever made it off the property.

It was hopeless. He had no choice. No control. Others were making his choices. He was fucked.

The trembling kit sobbed again, fighting to stop his crying. He couldn't even control that.

The only thing he could do was trust that the two adults were really his friends. That they'd give him at least one choice - to have his mind be his own. But friends were not things Nick could usually trust. What was a friend but someone who just waited to fuck you over when it suited them?

Something hit him. The one thing he'd done before this, that could have even anything to do with Adam, was contact his friends. Adam was their dealer - the guy they got their weed from.

Nick wiped his eyes and got to his paws. He stumbled into the bed, where he had to post his arms to stay upright. It took a little while for his balance to center itself.

Out in the corridor, he stopped to listen at Gary's bedroom door. Was Gary still outside or was he...? Just on time there was a rushing, white noise, barely audible through the door. Gary was taking a shower. That would give him enough time.

Immediately, Nick rushed down the stairs, not wasting his time putting any more clothes on, and made a break for the phone in the living room. Snatching the grey handset up, he spun on his heels and dashed back to the stairway. He would have to make the call in his room and hope Gary wouldn't hear. If he was lucky, he could be finished and have the phone back on the stand before Gary noticed it was missing.

The instant the door closed he started dialing in the number. His paws were shaking still - whether from the cold or something else, he wasn't sure.

He strode over to the back of the room, as far from the door as he could and began to pace back and forth, the handset pressed to his ear tightly.

It rung on and on, until there was a loud bleep and it went dead.

Bemused, Nick looked at the display. He quickly reentered the number and pressed the handset back to his ear.

Once again it started to ring on, and on, and Nick's pacing increased in tempo.

"Someone fuckin' pick up!" he growled.

Ten seconds. Twenty seconds.

At last the ringing stopped and there was a rustling sound through the speaker. Someone was fumbling the phone.

"Huh? Who is it?"

Nick exhaled slowly. It was Chase again. "It's me." The cheetah leaned against the wall. "Nick."

"Oh, shit!" the voice on the other side exclaimed, brightening a little. "Hey! I didn't recognize the number."

For some reason a chill descended over Nick that had nothing to do with the open window.

"Ch-Chase, I gotta ask you something."

"Sure. Ugh..." It sounded like Chase was stretching. For them, it was very early still. "What's wrong?"

"L-last night, Adam came here..." Nick paused, listening carefully. He was still unused to hearing voices over a phone's speaker.

But his friend didn't respond immediately. "... Uhh. Yeah?"

"He covered me in fuckin' gas and was gonna kill me."

Chase was silent for a few moments, before Nick heard him take a shaky breath. "Oh... shit."

"H-how did he know where I was, man?"

"... Oh, fuck, Nick... I-I didn't know. I fuckin' promise! Nobody did."

"Know what? How did he know?"

There were was a soft percussion over the phone. Nick figured it had to be Chase closing a door.

"Nick," the leopard teenager began, his tone soft. "I'm sorry. Wh-when I told Chris you'd called, he took the phone and got your number. Took him like five minutes to get an address with it. Dunno how."

With lidded eyes, Nick slid down the wall until he sat in the corner with his knees up to his chest. Like he'd thought, it had been something to do with calling his friends. Adam had said something about a phone bill too. His idea of a clue.

"... But what did you tell Adam for?" Nick whispered.

"N-Nick you gotta get this. He made me give him the phone - he's not the same anymore. It's not the same here."

"How?"

"Chris ain't the same. He told me what he was gonna do but when I tried to stop him he..." Chase sniffed. He was still the soft-hearted one, Nick noted. "Got punched right in the face, man. He said he'd kick me back onto the street."

The cheetah froze in incredulity. That was not the Chris he remembered. It was nothing like the older wolfhound.

"It was... I dunno, a deal with Adam. Chris told him where you were. Adam was supposed to bring you back, I don't know why he tried to kill you! What the fuck?!"

This wasn't right. Already Nick knew something was horribly wrong - he could hear it in Chase's voice.

Chase spoke up again. "Nick... Kyle's dead."

Nick's eyes slammed open again. "What...?" he said weakly.

"I-I dunno what happened. He got pissed off, was off his face on like five things and got into a fight at the subway station. He got stabbed and--and--he fell." Chase was crying now. Slightly, but he was. "I dunno who the fucks were, y'know, but they wanted to get me too. I was there. K-Kyle stopped them but they just fucked him up some more."

Nothing came to him. No words could come to Nick's tongue. His brain locked up and he stared at the carpet.

"I think they knew him from years ago or some shit," Chase continued. "Don't think the cops ever figured out who he was. Nobody came 'round the house. B-b-but since then, Chris just..."

"Why didn't you tell me?" breathed Nick. "When did this happen?"

"I couldn't!" Chase insisted, sounding desperate. "Jack was right fuckin' next to me when you called before, we were asleep in the den, man! We're not supposed to talk about it to anyone."

Nick flared. "Bullshit! You coulda told me! I'm not a fuckin' pig! I'm not gonna tell nobody!"

"I-I didn't want to! Stop man, don't get pissed at me, please!" The teenager sniffled once. "I keep dreaming about it a-and shit. I saw it happen! I don't want to talk about it."

The cheetah shot to his feet, clutching the phone so tightly his paws were beginning to hurt. "Why did Chris tell Adam?" he demanded.

"I-I'm not sure. It was a d-deal. Couldn't call you to explain. Adam and his friends were gonna do a job on the house and take you back here. Then since it was you who helped them, they were gonna split the cash they made with us; why, what did they tell you?"

"A-are you fuckin' stupid? He didn't say shit about that! And Chris always said to never do shit like that, busting into houses!"

"Yeah coz it's dangerous, man; people have guns and shit! He doesn't care if assholes like Adam do it. But what did Adam say? Why did he...?"

Starting to pace again, this time with a furious tempo, Nick growled into the handset. "Said I owed him money..." he said acidly. "For the shit I didn't get to use. You guys did."

"Owed him...? N-Nick... I think Chris owes him." Chase gulped audibly and lowered his voice. "I don't know, Jack and Chris aren't telling me. Things are getting fucked up here. A-after Kyle... Chris has been different. A total asshole. We're not makin' any videos and there ain't enough of us doin' grift to get any money."

"S-so... Chris was gonna use me to get Adam off his back?" Things started to fall into place. Things Nick had missed for nearly two years. "Get me back there so I could steal shit for him? G-get fucked in f-front of a camera so he can s-sell it? He didn't fuckin' ask me! I never said I wanted to go back like that, I never said I wanted to let them do that! It's my fucking choice!!"

Chase was silent for a second, seeming to just be listening to Nick's angry breathing. "N-Nick..." he whispered. "Think about it. We've got no parents. Nobody knows who we are. Street kids. R-runaways. Chris never goes in front of the camera in our videos - he doesn't take the risk, just like with the stealing and shit. The tapes made more money than he said... He's keeping it all."

"... What? What are you talkin' about? What do you mean?!"

"I-I dunno for sure, Nick. I dunno how much it costs to keep the house and all that shit. I might be wrong, Chris sure doesn't seem rich to me. He's changed, man. I th-think at first he wanted to help, but now he's in deep shit too. He needs money, so he cut that deal with Adam."

"Wh-what did Jack say about it?"

"N-Nick, it was Jack's idea."

"...Why?"

"You've been away nearly a year, Nick..."

He had no idea what did it. Why he snapped. Suddenly, from the cheetah's throat came an anguished, shrill scream and before he knew what was happening, he had hurled the handset across the room into the wall.

There was a loud crack and flakes of white plaster burst into the air. The phone rebounded towards him, but the moment it skidded to a landing near his paws, Nick kicked it, sending it straight back into the wall. It spun through the air and landed on the stripped mattress of Nick's bed.

"Fuck you!" he howled at the machine, paws clenched tightly by his sides. "You want me for money!? I haven't got any fucking money! Where's my fucking money then!?" In a blind rage, Nick slammed backwards into the wall, thumping the base of his skull on it, and slid down once again. He collapsed loudly to the floor. "Rraaaargh!! H-how can you do this shit to me?! Leave me alone... fuckin' leave me alone!"

Vaguely, he was aware that he continued to rant. Continued to swear viciously as he cried harder than he had since he was a young child on the floor. Nothing he said was coherent, but he didn't give a fuck. It hurt his chest, but he couldn't stop. He didn't even notice.

He had had a home, but now he wasn't welcome there. Nick knew he couldn't go back; Adam would kill him. Chris wouldn't want him back either - it had all been about money. He'd been used. A brainless kit that a fucking adult had made money off.

Even if that wasn't always true, even if Chris had been trying to help the others at first, it wasn't the same now. What he wanted to return to would be gone. Chris would never hit any of them before, especially not the younger members of the house. Especially not Chase.

Chase never, ever deserved to be hurt. Not by anyone.

His home was gone.

... His friends were gone.

Truth was, somehow, he had expected this.

It was some time before Nick managed to get any clarity of thought again. A glimmer of reason within the angry hurricane of his thoughts, telling him he needed to get a grip on himself. He clutched desperately at that glimmer. Calming himself down, getting himself to focus, was a bitter struggle. All he wanted to do was scream and cry and break things. Luckily, the only things in his room were the phone and a lamp.

But he didn't have much time. For some reason, now, for once, that mattered.

The kit fell still, listening carefully. The sound of rushing water was still coming from Gary's master bedroom.

As he listened though, he heard something else. A tinny, weak sound. A voice.

Sniffing, he dragged himself over to the bed and gently picked up the phone.

The casing was cracked and the display was destroyed - black liquid had bled all over the little screen, rendering it unreadable.

Nonetheless, he brought the device up to his ear again. "Ch-Chase?" he managed to gasp.

It was quieter than before, fuzzier too, but he could hear Chase crying through the speaker.

"Nick!" the voice exclaimed. "I'm sorry, man! Oh, fuck! I'm sorry! I tried to stop them telling Adam at first, but I thought you'd want to come home!"

Nick swallowed. "I-I did."

"I know. Don't come back here, Nick!" Chase sniffled loudly. "Don't. This isn't right. I don't care about stealing, I don't care about the videos, but Chris has changed. Jack has too. Everything's different now. He doesn't care about us like he used to. I'm f-fuckin' scared!"

"What... are you gonna do now?"

"Can't--can't stay here. I'm gonna leave. I don't know if Chris is gonna snap one day, maybe like my dad, or what Adam's gonna do when he gets back with no money. I don't wanna stay here no more."

"Where you gonna go?" Slowly, drained, Nick curled up behind his bed, up against the bedside cabinet.

"I dunno. The streets. M-maybe turn myself in."

"They'll send you to a home..."

"Whatever, man. It don't matter anymore. I'm sick of all this shit. Things have just gone crazy. Every day is just-- I got no idea what's gonna happen. I hate this life, but I don't want to die."

"Me neither..."

"Nick, listen... I know you don't want to. You told me about it. But don't try to come back here. T-try to get your life together. Stay there. Stay with that guy. You said he wasn't too bad, right?"

The kit drew a shuddering breath. "I--"

"I know! Nick, I know, but don't! Don't end up like Kyle! Remember what I said last time? If he wants to give you shit, take it! If he's cool, stay with him! It's better than here now."

Nick wiped at his nose. "W-will I ever see you again?" he quavered, his voice embarrassingly high pitched.

"Y-yeah. I think I'll go to the cops. Today. I'll catch up with ya later!"

"I guess so..."

"Okay. I'm gonna go now. The others won't be up for a few hours. I-I can get out of here before then."

"Chase, are you sure?"

The muted voice snorted a laugh. "Fuck no. I'm not sure of anything. I can't even read."

Nick gave a half-hearted chortle. "Yeah..."

"Yo, Nick. Take care of yourself, okay? I-I wanna see you again. Hey, you reckon that guy would mind another kid?"

"Gary? He don't want any." Nick closed his eyes tightly.

"... I'll see you soon, Nick..."

"Peace man..."

There was a beep and the fuzzy speakers went silent. Nick just dropped the broken device next to his head and laid still.

"He doesn't want me."

Gary emerged from the shower, ruffling his head-fur dry with his towel in only one paw as he made his way down to the laundry. He'd stopped long enough only to put on some clothes. Jeans, t-shirt and tennis shoes.

"No idea if I got any gasoline on you," he murmured to the blue towel. "So you get to camp outside tonight with the rest of the contaminated ones. Isn't that exciting?"

The towel didn't reply. It was a towel.

Not that Gary expected differently. He took the towel's taciturnity in stride. Like most things in his big, empty house, they never spoke to him. As he stepped into his backyard, he took a deep, calming breath. A light drizzle had already started up, which suited him perfectly.

He flopped the thick towel over the mobile rack. Then stopped to stare at the other pieces of fabric upon the line.

Nick had switched to his newer clothes for some reason when he went out to meet his attackers. They were probably destroyed now, Gary figured. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to get the stink off it entirely. There was no way he could let a kid run around his house stinking of gasoline - he wouldn't be surprised if Nick found the scent to be unpleasant now. He probably never wanted to smell it again. He could develop a chronic phobia of gas stations for all Gary knew.

On the bright side, Gary had an excuse to go shopping again.

Maybe not. It was less than ten days until the experiment ended - or at least his interest in it. It probably wasn't worth it.

Hanging his head, Gary chastised himself. That wasn't the right attitude, and he didn't need a psychologist to tell him that. But then again, so what?

"Damn!" muttered Gary, turning to go back inside.

He'd already decided to not try to adopt the kit. The experiment was a failure. There was nothing to gain out of this, for either of them. The kid didn't want to stay and Gary was pretty sure he couldn't handle him. It was cut and dried. There was no way in hell he could get the boy to go to school, enduring his foibles and unpredictable aggression every day while trying to live a normal life. There was no way he, of all people, could really get Nick on the right track. Gary wasn't even sure if he'd got himself onto the right track.

So, he thought, maybe it would be better to just cut the experiment short. Let someone else handle this mess. Someone trained. Someone not him. It was clear he never should've agreed to this.

Morose, he padded slowly back into the house.

The problem was, he was starting to like Nick. The delinquent boy had grown on him a lot in the last week. When the kit wasn't growling at him under his breath in the corner of his room, he was good company. As Czejak had said, Nick truly wasn't that bad a kid, once persuaded to drop his guard just a little. Gary wasn't even sure when he'd last had as much fun as he did with the boy only two nights ago. On the Gamestation.

On the expensive piece of digital hardware that Nick allowed to be stolen. He practically stole it himself. God damn it!

As he rounded the corner from the laundry to the foyer, still musing distractedly to himself, he almost collided with a small tawny figure.

"Whoa!" Gary exclaimed, stepping back.

Nick flinched away, almost tripping to his backside.

They stood several feet apart, silent for a few moments.

Then Gary laughed nervously. "That was close, huh?"

Nick, still clad only in his underwear, fidgeted slightly. He studiously avoided eye-contact as always, but seemed even more anxious than normal.

"What's wrong?" That was when Gary saw it. Nick had Gary's cordless phone in his paw, trying to conceal it by holding it inconspicuously by his waist.

"Nick, who were you calling?" Gary had to fight to keep the suspicion from his tone.

But Nick was silent, shivering just in front of him. Gary appraised him openly - the kit was staring determinedly at the floor, he couldn't tell.

"Mind if I take the phone?"

Slowly, Nick held the device in front of him, holding it up while his eyes remained downcast. Immediately Gary could see the damage. The grey plastic case was cracked badly right down the length of it, and the liquid crystal display was shattered. Nick's breath was coming to him rapidly.

He was scared. Very scared.

But Gary just frowned and reached for the phone. He plucked it from the kit's grasp and inspected it. It was totally destroyed - whatever Nick had done to it had ruined it. White plaster flakes and dust coated two of the edges. It had been thrown at a wall. Repeatedly.

With a resigned sigh, Gary let his arms fall to his sides.

Apparently, that was a bad idea. Nick urgently retreated a step, almost imperceptibly shrinking away. Probably expecting to be struck.

"It's okay, Nick." Gary shook his head. "I'm not happy you broke it, but it's okay."

Regardless, the boy took another step away. He looked like he wanted to say something, so Gary waited. And waited.

"...Is something wrong?"

After a moment, Nick shook his head. He spun around to go back upstairs.

Gary couldn't help but stare as the kit clambered up the stairway. He might as well have been running from a serial killer.

Maybe this was the piece of the puzzle Nick had hidden from them. This whole thing probably was caused by a phone call Nick made. Maybe to his old dealer, Gary didn't know - maybe the kit just wanted to get his paws on some drugs after so long in that facility. It was hard to put anything past him now.

The phone likely contained the numbers he dialed. Gary could see them in the call registry.

Or could have if the screen wasn't smashed. Perfect. That would be assuming Nick's tantrum hadn't destroyed the phone's memory.

"Fucking hell," Gary pronounced clearly and calmly, before tossing the phone onto the sofa.

There was nothing else to do until Czejak called back later. The doc would have to decide whether or not to call the police. Whether or not to continue the experiment. Oh, and Gary would have to answer on the handset upstairs in his office, since Nick had smashed this one to bits.

Shaking his head, Gary flopped on the couch and picked up his television remote. There was nothing to do for the next few hours.

Once again, all he could do was wait for advice. Or some perspective.

Unsurprisingly, he really needed some right now.

Nick shivered quietly in his room again. This time, behind the bed where he'd finished his conversation with Chase.

His traditional spot near the window stank of gasoline right now, and that made him feel sick. He knew he may have to sleep in the basement tonight. Maybe he could sleep on the couch in the den, if Gary didn't mind.

But of course, he probably did. Gary probably minded Nick being in the same house as him.

Gary probably hated him.

Worst of all, Nick knew he cared about that now.

Half-a-dozen placements, and only once did Nick ever give a shit about what they thought of him.

"I knew what I was getting." Did he really?

Nick rested his head on his forearms. It made more sense now. The experiment was to see if Gary could get Nick to be adopted. To change his mind. That was obvious. Maybe not in the first three weeks, but Czejak said the three week thing was just to make sure Nick gave him a chance. He was supposed to stay there another three weeks. Then another three.

What had gone wrong was really obvious too. It was Gary's mind that got changed.

He didn't want Nick anymore. Exactly as Nick said, Gary didn't want a psycho kit like him. Nick had fucked it up, like he'd promised. He'd tried, but he just couldn't make himself do anything right. Maybe it wouldn't have mattered before, but Nick had nowhere to go now.

Fuck them all, he thought. They'd done it. He was giving in. Doing what they wanted him to do. The choice of whether or not to stay with Gary had been an illusion: it was no choice at all. It was mostly Gary's choice, and in Nick's case, all he had to choose from was the hellish detention center or smothering his pride, suffering his fears, and accepting placement in another foster home.

The safety and security of living with his friends had been fake. The first adult aside from his father that he'd ever trusted, Chris, had turned on him. Everything had been a lie. He'd even been lying to himself - was he really trying? Had he really wanted this to work? Did he really want to stay? Or had he wanted to run away again? ... Had he? If that was true, why didn't he take the chance?! He wasn't sure anymore. It had all been a big, confusing lie.

It took everything he believed in being destroyed, and all his hope for freedom being taken away, for him to see that.

That was what they'd been trying to do all along - he knew what they were doing. "Did you want to stay for three more weeks, or go back to the center?" they were going to ask. Three weeks later, they'd ask again. Three weeks later, again. Finally, it'd become "do you want to stay forever or go back to the center? Choose now." It had all been about breaking him down, giving him fake choices while they made all the real decisions for him.

He was sure Czejak had nothing to do with it, at least not deliberately. Well... at least not out of cruelty. Everyone else had wanted it though, they had never cared about him, and Nick was about to give them what they had worked so hard for.

He couldn't hold it anymore.

At long last, Nick broke.

It was very dark when Nick woke up. Bemused, he looked around. What little he could see seemed to be swaying and indistinct. Though it seemed more likely that it was him that was doing the swaying.

After being up all night, it was no surprise he'd fallen asleep.

His sleepy brain finally registered the sound that had awakened him. Heavy footfalls were ascending the stairway outside his room.

In seconds, they'd arrived at his door. Then they stopped.

Nick's eyes widened and he stared at the top of the doorway from his hiding place behind his bed. Apprehension started to swell inside him; had Gary finally gotten pissed off at him? Was he going to shove that door open and go straight for Nick?

Worse, it could be someone to take him back to Wilder Springs. Or had Czejak told someone about Nick's... freak-outs?

The door didn't get thrown open though. Instead, there was only a polite knock.

"Nick, can I speak to you?"

Nick closed his eyes. "What?"

"Can I come in?"

Sighing, Nick sat up and leaned against the wall. "Whatever."

The door opened, and Gary strolled in, clicking on the light-switch. His expression was thoughtful, but Nick didn't see. He stared hard at his naked paws.

"Czejak didn't call back. At least not yet." Gary set his back against the far wall, keeping the bed between them.

"What time is it?"

"Seven. If he hasn't called yet, I think he wasn't able to." The adult scratched his head. "I figured I was going to wait for him to give me some advice. Let me know what we were gonna do next. Then I kinda realized, the entire point of all this is that I don't ask him about what to do. It's what we do. Me an' you. Not some doctors, not some suit-wearing ass-munchers. Us. So I'm going to just go with my instincts, and pray it works out."

"What are you talking about?" groaned Nick. He felt weak and vulnerable.

"We got a lot to talk about, Nick. I just want you to promise me one thing: don't just tell me to fuck off. Hear me out."

There was a moment's pause before Nick snorted. "Piss off, then."

Gary sighed and turned to the doorway. "Guess it's not worth it then."

Nick jolted. "Wait! It's a joke! Fuck, man!"

"Oh." Gary gave a sheepish cough. "My bad then. Sorry, didn't expect a joke. Nick, seriously, do you want me to go away? Or can we talk?"

The kit hung his head. "Yeah," he mumbled sourly. "Whatever. Go on."

This was probably it, he reckoned. Something big was coming. Something big, like the next five years in hell.

But no matter what, he wouldn't cry. He'd already fucked up once, crying when Gary told him how long he could be kept in the detention center, unable to stop himself. He wouldn't let that happen again.

"Huh. Good view from here. You should see this street when it's been snowing. Not too heavily, you know? Can still see the tips of the trees and everything. At Christmas, everything looks awesome from up here - everyone here is nuts about their decorations."

Confused, Nick looked up at the grownup by the open window.

"Did you have any kind of view in that shithouse? The, uh, detention center?"

Badly thrown off, it took Nick's brain a full ten seconds to figure out a reply.

"No. It's just a bunch of grass."

"From your room?" Gary sat down by the window, where Nick had slept not too long ago. Absently he rubbed at his little earring. "Is it a big room?"

"No." Nick sniffed, wiping at his nose with a paw. "When am I going back?"

Gary blinked. "What was that?"

"When are you sending me back?"

"Oh right. Well, that's what I needed to talk to you about."

Nick clutched at his head and swore silently. Just as he thought.

"Nick, do you want to stay here another few weeks?"

The kit froze like he'd been doused in liquid nitrogen.

"It's just, I need to give my boss a week's warning if I'm going to take the rest of my days off."

Slowly the incredulous boy looked up until he, for one of the first times ever, met Gary's eyes. "Why?!"

"Don't think the last few weeks were long enough for us to get to know each other." Gary grinned lightheartedly. "We had some fun, but shit just keeps coming up."

"I-I..." Now Nick's brain seized up entirely.

"You can still back out in the next ten days. I just wanted to know so I could call my boss if you were going to think about it. If you think you're probably gonna want to stay, I can call them tomorrow morning. I've got another thirteen days I can take off. Accrued Days Off - A.D.O.s."

"Thirteen...? What-?"

"Of course, after that I'll have to go into the office at least a few days a week - I usually go in every day, but maybe I'll be able to telecommute more. You know, like you saw me do a couple of nights ago. So you'll get some more time alone." Gary snickered. "You'll be fine alone, right? I know I can trust you."

Nick reeled away, staring in shock at his 'guardian'.

"Why?" he exhaled again at last.

Crossing his legs and leaning closer, Gary shot him a smile. "Because. The longer I keep you out of there, the more chance Czejak has of finding a way to get you out of there for good -- one you're alright with - without you needing to put up with that place. It's the least I can do. I don't want to know I sent you back to that damn prison."

The boy averted his gaze, staring hard at the floor. He started toying with his ankle tether, still the only other thing on him aside from his underwear. "A-are you for fuckin' real?"

"No, that's not it all." Gary shrugged dramatically. "I don't want you to go yet. I don't wanna keep you here if you don't want to be here, of course, but... I like having you around, Nick."

Abruptly Nick became as motionless as a statue. Gary could hear his breathing though. Ragged and shallow.

"Not what you expected?" chortled the adult. No response. So Gary scooted a little closer. "Nick? Nobody said this was going to be easy. That's why. I know what you did for me; what you gave up. Now I know what they really meant by 'it's not gonna be easy.' Took me long enough. I don't give a damn if you break some useless crap like a phone I never use. I'd rather... have someone else here than be alone all the time. It's been cool so far, right?"

With a suppressed whimper, Nick started to shake.

"It, uh, took a lot of balls to do what you did. I just hope I get to repay you before you go, man. You're a good kid, Nick. Maybe the other assholes you got stuck with just didn't realize that--that maybe you're twice as brave and decent as they are. All the shit you've gone through and all the shit they're trying to put you through now and you're still like this. I look up to you, Nick. I don't care how small you are, I look up to you." Gary sniffed. "Sorry, I just... wanted to get it all out there. Didn't mean to lay it on so thick. I just believe in telling it how it is. So. Uh. Whaddaya say? Three more?"

Nick closed his eyes tightly. For a good three minutes. Gary waited patiently. It seemed like the kit was trying to stop himself from crying. Locked in a titanic battle with his own conflicting, confused emotions.

But then he nodded.

"Okay." Gary stood and rubbed at his runny nose. "Shit, look at this. Damn I'm a wimp." Laughing, he swiped at his muzzle with the back of his wrist. "Hey, want to come watch something with me? We might not have the Gamestation, but we still have tons of movies."

Gary lost track of how long he waited there for a response. Eventually Nick shook his head, painstakingly slowly, his eyes harrowed and wet.

"Alright. But hey, you should put on some clothes. Unless you want to give the neighbors a free Cheetah Cub Strip Show. It's up to you, but I'd've thought you'd prefer to charge."

Though it was nigh imperceptible, Gary just managed to see Nick reward that with a slight, absent smile.

And that was reward enough.

End of Chapter 3

• Kichigai Kitsune, 2011