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What Was Broken -

Chapter 4

Though awake, more or less, Sean did not move for a few moments. He was too comfortable, despite the aged lumpiness of the too-thin mattress of the bed and the fact that the air conditioner had kicked back on at some point and not shut off, plunging the house into a sharp refrigerator chill. The unexpected cold was assuaged by Taws' warm fur against his back under the, also too thin, comforter.

It took a few long seconds for the realization of where he was to percolate through the fog of Sean's thoughts. Then clarity came crashing in all at once; the rum, the massage, the panic.

The cat, god damned the cat, again. The rum, which left a throbbing legacy behind his eyes and a sticky cotton gumminess in his mouth that tasted positively horrible. Those golden eyes as he pleaded for help in the dark. The smell of wolf and the dry dustiness of the desert.

The weight on his back and the demon hissing in his ear. That hot, stabbing pain and the final ache at the end.

In the end, the darkness, the heat of fur against his back, the weight upon his back that was not feline.

The warmth of fur against his back that was not Taws.

Shifting slowly Sean swung his legs over the near side of the bed and sat up, only to have the legacy of too much rum wallop him soundly between the eyes. He swayed in place, grasping the edge of the bed with two hands until the gloomy shadows of the room stopped swimming and balance, grudgingly, returned. One hand unsteadily lifted to his brow as he leaned forward with a groan of profound discomfort.

The warm furry bulk that had been resting behind him shifted slightly. "How're you feeling?" Oda rumbled.

Oda, yes him, that's right. Not Taws; not his love. But still a friend. "Hung over," Sean managed to croak as he looked over his shoulder at the vague gray shadow of the wolf and gave him a forced smirk. "And about ready to burst," was the conclusion as he forced himself to stagger to his feet and lurch to the bathroom.

Leaning over the commode, one hand braced against the wall, Sean luxuriated in the profound relief of nature's demands. His body sagged forward until his head nearly touched the wall as the immediate sensation of that overwhelming need to piss faded and he took stock of himself. He felt - he had to stop and think, despite the muzzy headed cotton batting that muffled his thoughts - pretty damned good. A low, dull ache where, he remembered all too clearly, there had been a burning pain for days but now nothing more than a low ache that was all too easy to forget in the face of his overall hangover. The massage still had lingering effects in the lack of tension in his muscles; tension which seems to have been ever present for months was now... gone. It felt like someone had lifted a sack of concrete from his shoulders.

Considering what he had asked of the wolf, and what they did, he was rather surprised.

The man in the mirror, however, told another story. He looked horrible. His hair was a disheveled sweaty mop, there were bags under his eyes and he was in dire need of a shave. Sean snorted self-depreciatively and shook his head. On the sink the empty bottle of rum still sat. He picked it up and dropped it into the wastebasket as he turned toward the shower.

The water, though its pressure was pretty anemic, was just shy of scalding as he stood unmoving beneath the gentle cascade, resting his head against the cool of the tile. The rush of heat through his flesh brought back his hangover with vengeful force and he swayed in place, quickly dialing back the heat to let the dizziness fade. A knock at the door brought him out of his unthinking zombie state.

"Hey, mind if I cut in?" Oda's sleepy rumble came from the other side of the marine themed vinyl curtain, "Nature's not about to let me escape, either."

Sean snorted humorously, "Uh, yeah, yeah, no problem," The heavy click of the wolf's claws on the cheap, cracking linoleum approached the curtain and stopped only to be followed a moment later by the sound of the wolf also availing himself of the commode. Oda let out a low, rumbling groan of blissful satisfaction at the easing of his biologic imperative. Sean let the sound pass out of mind and just stood there under the water, mulling his thoughts.

Mulling his present, and what it could mean for his future. A rap at the wall just beyond the curtain scattered his thoughts again. "Flushing." The wolf warned. Sean reached up and turned the shower head to one side.

"Go." The feeble cascade dropped considerably at the rush of the toilet. "Hey, Oda?" Sean called when he didn't hear the retreating click of stout claws.

"Mhh?"

"I, uh, I want to apologize for last night, you know?" Sean mumbled, almost to himself, but the wolf's ears were keen.

"Apologize? Why?" he sounded somewhat surprised. On the opposite side of the curtain a shadow moved under the lights over the sink.

"I was way out of line." Sean doggedly slogged on, taking a breath and bringing the shower head back in line, "What I asked you to do. It wasn't right." He turned to face the curtain and leaned back against the wet tile. "I put you in a terrible position, I realize that. I was drunk, and with the whole trial I've been scared shitless, and... fuck, there is no excuse for that. We haven't know each other long, Oda, but I do consider you a friend. What I asked of you was more than any friend should and I'm sorry for that." It had all come out of him in a rush, all his conflicted feelings about the night before and what they had done. "Can you forgive me?"

There was silence from the other side of the shower curtain, the spray from the nozzle the only noise.

"Oda?"

The shadow did not move for several heartbeats, then grew large as the wolf shifted. The edge of the shower curtain drew back and the wolf's large white head poked in. "How did you sleep?" He asked warmly, golden eyes gentle in their regard. How different they were, Sean realized, than the cat's, than even Taws' own golden regard.

Sean blinked the water from his eyes. He actually had to think on that. "Good," he responded, the answer almost jumping to his lips. "Probably more soundly than I have for months."

The wolf's whiskers lifted as he smiled with a slight gleam of teeth, "That's your answer, then." Pushing the shower curtain back a little further the naked wolf stepped in, crowding Sean toward the back as he claimed the inadequate sputter of the shower head.

Letting go of a breath he didn't realize he was holding, Sean slumped back against the rear wall. "Thank you." While the water flattened the fur of his back Oda reached up and rested a large white furred hand upon Sean's shoulder.

"I'm glad I - could be what you needed, then, as a friend." He bobbed his head with a warm smile and turned, his wet tail thumping across Sean's stomach. "Now, be a friend, too, and help out, hmm?" Sean blinked, then chuckled as he reached for the shampoo.

"Just try not to take too long. I want to figure out breakfast." Oda picked up another bottle of shampoo to begin working at his front. Sean scrubbed himself, first, while the wolf bathed, finishing well before Oda had made much progress at all. He then reached out to begin working a thick foam of soapy lather into the wolf's wet fur. It was no different than sharing the shower with Taws; only the hue of fur was different. And, notably so, was the activity in the shower. More often than not bathing with Taws gave way to other actions under the soothing heat of a good wash.

The man and the wolf shared the confines of the shower amicably, comfortable despite their nakedness, and got themselves washed with relatively little conversation. While Oda rinsed Sean stepped out to dry and brush his teeth. He was down to shaving when the wolf shut the water off and pulled the curtain back to snag one of the many towels stacked on a shelf above the toilet.

"I never could understand you humans and your need to shave off what little fur you have." The wolf commented from under the towel as he vigorously dried his head. The sound of water cascading off of his fur was louder than the shower itself had been. "Though I admit, it does makes other areas look... mighty nice, all clean and ... hmmm, tasty," he added with a laconic drawl as his gaze dropped to Sean's cleanly shaven groin.

Sean snorted and rolled his eyes as the razor rasped quietly along his jaw. "Ours isn't as soft as yours, wolf," he commented blandly as he tapped his razor and rinsed it for another pass. "Just as confusing as you dogs sniffing butts."

Oda snorted a laugh, "It's amazingly informative."

Sean ran his fingers over his jawline to see if he missed any annoying stubble as he regarded the disheveled, wet wolf. "We humans just don't get the idea of communicating through our assholes."

Oda's teeth gleamed in a huge predatory smile, "Then you obviously don't pay attention to politics." With a playful flick of a sopping towel at Sean's naked, exposed ass he padded past, "I'm going to go stand in the sun and dry off." Sean swatted the retreating tail as it swept past and then went about finishing his shave.

He emerged from the restroom a few minutes later and caught Oda coming in off the back deck carrying their robes from the night before. The wolf was shielding his eyes. "Now I don't know about you, Sean, but I really don't feel like cooking right now. Go get dressed. I hope you like diner food."

"Hey, I'm a New Yorker. We practically invented the stuff."

"Good, toss on something real quick, we'll hit that diner at the crossroads." Oda flung the robes over the end of the sofa and retreated to the other room where his things were. A few minutes later they were in the car heading out. Sean reflected that he was exceedingly glad he brought sunglasses with him as he looked over the canyon in the early morning light. At least the wolf did not drive with his normal reckless abandon, probably due to his own hangover.

The diner was only a few miles away back on the boarder of proper civilization. In any case it was a friendly place, and smelled absolutely heavenly. Sean's mouth was watering within seconds of coming in the door, despite how sour his stomach had felt back at the safe house. It was an accommodating place, too. Their waitress was good enough to leave the whole coffee pot at Oda's request so as to avoid constant refills. It was sparsely attended for the morning hour; a few truckers and passing tourists scattered about with a low murmur of conversation.

When it arrived, the food lived up to the smell. That, or Sean's hung-over body just magnified how much better it all was. He tucked into his large order of huevos rancheros as Oda worked over steak and eggs. They agreed to split a half loaf of toasted raisin bread with honey. They spoke little throughout, each deep into their own thoughts. For Sean it was more about what waited ahead of him rather than the previous night. He did not really find himself wanting to contemplate it so soon. He only hoped it helped, but had to admit it was not as frightfully unpleasant as he had expected.

"Uncomfortable, though." He muttered, thinking aloud. Oda looked up, fork in his muzzle, and grunted an inquiring rumble. "Oh." Sean grimaced when he realized he was vocalizing again, as he often did during his creative endeavors. "Sorry, I was just thinking, about last night."

"Uncomfortable?" Oda asked around a muzzlefull of breakfast.

"Well, yeah, a little."

Oda whuffed a short laugh and nodded, swallowing and reaching for his coffee; his third mug. Sean was keeping up with him on that front and the efficient waitress had coasted by with a fresh pot so smoothly that neither had noticed even as they refilled for the third time. "I would expect so, and for that I'm sorry. Not painful, though?"

Sean took a swallow of coffee and nodded, "At first, yeah. Even still aches, a little. Not too bad though."

"First time is almost always uncomfortable, even painful. Hell, if I haven't had any fun in a few months it's even a little unpleasant for me, initially." The wolf said after a sip from his own mug. "That'll fade pretty quick. We took it slow and easy, so you're a little, hmmm, stretched but not bruised."

"Thanks for that."

Oda flashed a toothy grin and mopped his plate with the last of the bread, "Anytime, pup. Anytime." Chewing down the soggy bread he scooped up the ticket and glanced at it while he dug his wallet out.

After Sean left an appropriately large tip for their ubiquitous waitress it was back to the safe house. Sean made sure he was well groomed and dressed equally. After the sixth time checking the alignment of his buttons he forced himself to calm down, to breathe. "It's okay, Sean. It's a public trial. He can't hurt you." He grimaced. "Yeah."

And then it was time to go.

While Oda drove Sean took out his cell phone.

To: Taws

This is it.

His phone trilled a few minutes later.

From: Taws

Good luck! Love you, darling.

They arrived at the courthouse just after nine that morning. Oda was once more the inscrutable, hard-faced guardian escorting Sean through the numerous security checkpoints. Of his amorous alter ego there was not even the slightest hint. Even the predatory, jocular humor that he had evidenced on their first meeting was not revealed. Sean guessed that it was the presence of Lazarus with them the first time that allowed the wolf to show a little bit beyond that mask of indomitable will.

Once more Sean was left at the door, allowed in past two completely new bailiffs while Oda was turned away. Sean was even forced to surrender his cell phone before entering. "When you are finished, text me. I'm going to be in another area of the courthouse catching up on paperwork." Oda rumbled levelly, resting a hand briefly on Sean's shoulder before turning. Self-consciously straightening his tie Sean turned and strode between the bailiffs.

He was not the first to arrive, nor by any margin the last. "Good morning, Mister Garret." Le'thal greeted him with a warm smile. The feline, Tracy, was at the table as well and flashed him a grin that was equal parts welcoming and fierce, predatory glee. Sean, even with her on his side, felt suddenly like a mouse. "Mister Libengood is in the judge's chambers with the lead defense council but should be out in a little while. Have a seat, there, in the gallery." The Frenchman waved a hand toward the row of unoccupied seats behind the short wall separating the gallery from the courtroom floor. "I'm not sure if we'll get to your testimony today, so we'll need you here just in case. You'll get to see how the defense team will run their show."

Sean shook the man's hand, and the feline woman's, from behind the wall. At the opposite table, on the left side of the floor, a quartet of sharply dressed men stood or sat conversing. The sole non-human among them, a harsh looking baboon, gave Sean a slow up and down appraisal. He caught the glance from the corner of his eye but did not turn to acknowledge it. Sean settled into one of the seats. A couple over a human woman sat looking outwardly as nervous as Sean felt inwardly but was trying not to project. Since she was seated in the same row he figured she was another witness. A man sat down nearby, with one empty seat separating them, a short time later; yet another witness. He looked angry and eager rather than nervous. Both of them were very, very good looking but their attire, while formal, was certainly not boutique top shelf. A few minutes later another woman, this one a willowy white-tailed doe, joined them, seating herself in the second row as far to the right as the seats allowed. Though there were twelve seats in each of the five rows only about ten people sat on their side of the gallery. Most of the others looked like reporters or artists hired to sketch the proceedings for whatever media source they worked for. One lone man, stone faced and quiet and wearing a modest suit, sat in the back row. Sean figured he was the agent that the puma shot.

A small gathering had also assembled on the far left side of the gallery, most of them older men with hard looks and business attire that left even Sean's relatively expensive tailor made suit to shame. He guessed that they were probably attached to various venues in town desperate to keep one of their own from saying too much.

Just before the ten-o-clock hour a door on the far side of the courtroom floor opened. Sean felt his heart skip and his stomach tighten as he saw the cat standing there, his wrists shacked to a wide leather belt around his hips. The cat was looking down as two guards, one a human and the other a brown bear, both of them massive burly examples of masculinity, quietly went about removing his shackles. Once those were surrendered to still a third, who was revealed only as an arm accepting them, the guards took their detainee's arms and navigated through the door. Due to their strapping size they had to go in single file. The bear led, then the cat, followed by the football linebacker. Between them the cat looked positively small. Behind him a slim shadow hung unmoving even as he walked; the cat's paralyzed tail.

Even compared to the visage of the demon that haunted Sean's intimate moments, the cat looked - less. His face, in the moments of distraction, lacked the hard predatory sense that Sean had encountered. He looked less intimidating, less imposing, and one side of the cat's face simply looked wrong. While not carrying an outright snarl, the cat's lips were drawn back in a menacing grimace that was fixed on his feline face like a rictus death mask. Sean figured that was legacy of the violent, enraged stomping that he had visited upon the unconscious cat months ago. He had not realized at the time how much of the feline's skull he had smashed. Either that, or the cat had run afoul of someone in lockup worse than he was.

That changed, however, as the two guards moved to either side and the cat lifted his gaze to survey the courtroom. Bronze eyes flicked across the defense gallery to the prosecutors' side, flitting over the witnesses until coming to rest on Sean. Their eyes locked and Sean saw those bronze irises shrink to mere rings around vast pits of stellar blackness. The cat straightened himself with a swift intake of air and growled, prompting the guards to tighten their grip upon his arms. The human muttered an unheard approbation for the cat to calm down and they forcefully drew him toward the defense table. The whole time the cat's head stayed riveted toward Sean, like the barrel of a modern tank on azimuth lock.

Only once he was forced into one of the chairs and made to sit did he tear his gaze away, snarling a harsh inquiry at the baboon as he manhandled his slack tail around to one side and pulled it across his lap. The baboon glanced over toward Sean, blue muzzle curling to reveal stout teeth that put Oda's to shame, before turning to whisper into his client's ear.

Sean was distracted by a light touch on his arm, blinking and twitching in surprise. His head jerked to look down at his arm, and the light fingers resting upon it, before his attention flicked up to the owner of those fingers. The man was slender but well dressed and held himself in an effete manner. "You're him, aren't you?" He whispered lightly, the tell-tale stereotypical lilt of gayness touching his words. Strange, Sean thought, how pervasive that stereotype was, and how misleading. Did one's accent alone make them gay, he wondered, or did being gay make that lilt? Certainly Oda had no hint of it. "I think we have a common - hmm, how might you say - acquaintance?" The young man's gaze flitted toward the defense table and back. "The one with the crooked smile over there."

"Him?" he inquired in a similar low stage-whisper.

The youth nodded with a thin smile, "I hear that was your doing; his face, his limp tail. His lack of balls?"

Sean blinked and leaned back, but the man's fingers remained. "I guess, yeah."

A sinister smile of glee smile spread across the man's face as he removed his hand from Sean's arm, balling it into a light fist and holding it out. It took Sean a moment to realize what that was supposed to mean, and he finally raised his own fist and bumped knuckles in commiseration of a job well done. "Good fucking job, man, masterfully done! And a big thank you for that." The man drawled lightly. "I could tell when he looked at you - fucking pissed as hell that you're here. Us," his fingers finally lifted to flick at the two females and then himself, "We're nothing to him; victims and prey. You, now - you turned the tables and won, and left him with a scar that'll never heal."

Yeah, he left me with scars too, Sean thought. He heaved a sigh through his nose, "Yeah, maybe. But I still got it in the ass."

The man nodded slowly with a helpless shrug, "You," He poked Sean's shoulder with one finger, "are not gay. I bet it messed you up good, too. Hurt me like hell, and I'm used to - well - it."

"Some guy in your ass, eh?"

A soft laugh and a rueful smile, "Yeah, it is what I like. But not cats. Not furs at all, no. Don't much care for non-humans in bed." His gaze lifted to look across at the defense table. "Still hurt."

"Won't any more, though." Sean's grin was pure malice.

"No, no it -"

"All rise! All rise for the honorable judge Amos Bachman!" The bailiff intoned in a loud, barrel-chested rumble. There was a rustle as everyone stood. The door behind the judge's bench opened and a trio of forms emerged; two humans made their way to their respective tables. One to the defense side, and the other, lead prosecutor Libengood, to the prosecutor's side. The third was tall, slim, and regal for all that he was a weimeriner dressed in stately court robes. His gaze was flat and uncompromising as he mounted behind the bench. Slowly raising an aged hand he motioned for the court to sit as he did.

"Docket number CR-S-11-10991, State of Nevada versus Duante Montane, five counts of sexual assault in the first degree, eight counts of sexual assault in the second degree. Three counts of capital assault with a deadly weapon in the second degree." The bailiff continued while the court reporter's fingers danced deftly over her keyboard. Sean leaned back in his seat, somewhat surprised to find that the man who had been speaking with him had sat down in the empty seat that had once separated them.

While the bailiff droned on the slim young man offered a hand. "Anthony Blane." He said quietly with a welcoming smile. Sean took his hand finding the returned grip to be firm and confident without the expected soft weakness that many seemed to offer. "I'd never have been here were it not for you, you know."

"Me?"

Anthony nodded curtly, "I would never have dared file a complaint after - well, after. He's hooked in deep with the syndicates. Going after him would've put me in the same mine shaft they found the others in, after you blew the roof off of this town. And the walls down. Whatever you did, it went off like a nuclear bomb." His earnest whispers hissed with gleeful excitement. "Seven hundred arrests at last count. Everyone from top casino owners to cops to bookmakers - all of it, because you got inside somehow and exposed a single crack that they've blown open with dynamite. Got a few killed, on both sides, too. Syndicates trying to cover their tracks and sway the fearful masses into silence. One lawyer last week, a couple of informants the week before. It's a mess!"

"You're talking, now."

"Yeah, you bet I am." He nodded, his smile becoming hard. "It's not like they're going to pay much attention to a lowly sexual assault testimony, it won't expose anything unless they use the verdict to leverage more info out of that damned cat. I honestly hope it does, because he'll end up quite gruesomely dead all the sooner when they move to shut him up."

"What others, though? What mineshaft?"

"Ahh, you haven't been following the news! Shit, man, you have no idea what you unleashed around here!" Anthony tilted his head curiously, leaning forward to look at Sean more directly. "I pegged your accent as out of town - northeast? Yeah, pretty horrible, actually. One of the guys they took down in that hostage thing a few months ago spilled the beans on where the bodies were hidden, some of them at least. They found thirty seven unfortunate souls two hundred feet down a vertical shaft, some been missing more than a decade. Some they still haven't identified."

And Ashley would have been number thirty eight, Sean mused with a clench of his gut. As much as their breakup hurt he never would have wished that particular fate on her. It was to save her from that, or a fate even more horrifying, that put Sean in the cat's cross-hairs, and the cat in his memories. "Damn," He watched as the jury was brought in through a door on the right side of the courtroom, filing into the twelve seats on the prosecutor's side. There were eight males, three of them non-humans, and four females of which only one was not human. Such a disposition of genders could go either way with the deliberations, Sean mused. Males would be less quick to accept a claim of rape, where the plaintiffs were female, which meant it was a toss-up when the victims were both genders. The women, he figured, would not bat an eye at looking on the cat and seeing him as a rapist of either. The court was silent while they were sworn in and took their seats.

"Yeah, I didn't want to be down there, so I shut up until I was told that they got a positive DNA match on my 'unidentified sexual assault' report." The young man said at length as he leaned back in his chair and hooked one leg over his knee. "I was laughing for days when I heard someone blew his balls off." He snickered and cast a sidelong glance at Sean while the prosecutor's team laid out their opening statement. "It still makes me laugh!"

The prosecutorial team extended a claim of serialized sexual assault from the defense's client, and the defense team rebutted in their opening statement that the charges were spurious slander perpetrated by scorned partners, one of whom went so far as to shoot their client when they disagreed over preferences in their sexual approaches. Sean snorted a laugh at that argument, loudly enough to turn a few heads in the jury box. He met their curious looks with one of complete incredulity at the bald fabrication being fed out like so much horse shit by the defense. They were not outright lying, or even denying that sex occurred between the actors on both sides, merely attempting to misdirect the actual nature of the acts.

The prosecution first called the timid woman who had tried to melt into her seat when the cat was brought out. Through two stammering hours the prosecutors patiently prized out the details of her own assault, which had happened almost five years in the past. Despite her timidity and reticence it was clear she was overwhelmed by the whole court proceeding, and the very courthouse itself, which hampered her testimony. Through it all Sean could hear the hiss of the artists in the back row on their sketch pads and the murmur of the immaculately dressed men seated behind the defense team, all of them clearly bored by the show.

The defense positively eviscerated her, circling around her testimony picking it apart like piranhas going after a fresh cow. By the end of it they made it seem like she had invited the assault by being suggestively dressed, more than a little drunk, and in an area of town known for pandering. She was on the verge of tears by the time they released her from the stand and she scampered out like a mouse finding itself in a house too full of cats.

They next called up the effete man seated beside Sean, who walked forward boldly with his head held high in contradiction with the first witness. He sat straight in his chair and stared levelly at the cat while he was sworn in.

"State your name for the court, please." Le'thal asked quietly as he leaned one elbow on the corner of the witness stand.

"Anthony James Blane."

"Anthony Blane," Le'thal made a slow half-bowing nod, "May I call you Andy, or do you prefer Anthony? Mister Blane?"

"Andy'll do fine, sir."

"And you have come here to swear, under oath, that the defendant engaged in forceful sexual intercourse with you, without your leave or request?"

"Yes."

"Could you explain the setting in which this took place?"

"Under the helipad at the top of Becket Complex tower One, on an access way for the utility services."

"How is it you came to be in such place?"

"I was ushering at a - party; a gathering of the top mobsters in the city. After they had all arrived I stepped out onto the catwalk to take a smoke."

"And the defendant was there?"

"He was. As far as I could tell he was one of the security muscle."

"So, you were out catching a smoke. Then what?"

Anthony waved a hand toward the defense table, "He comes along, on rounds I guess. He's walking past me and then he just ... reaches out and grabs me by the throat. Before I could really react he picks me up against one of those big air duct things and says that he's going to fuck me." Sean felt an atavistic shiver race down his spine at the familiar refrain. "He tells me to take down my pants."

"And did you?"

"Kinda hard not to with three hundred pounds of muscle telling you what to do."

"And then?"

"He's holding me by the back of my neck at that point, his claws digging in. I've still got the scars there, where he cut me. He tells me to undo his pants and take out his dick."

Le'thal turned to the jury, his eyes roving over them. "And then what?"

"He tells me to suck his dick."

"And, I assume, you did this?" Le'thal continued to watch the jury, making eye contact as he let his eyes glide across them slowly.

"Well, yeah, of course I did." Anthony looked toward the attorney and then across at the cat, one corner of his mouth twitching in a strange smile, "Other than the horrible taste, it wasn't all that difficult." He held up one hand, his fingers and thumb defining a slight gap, "It's not like he's really all that big." Sean's eyes widened and he chortled a snort of laughter, echoed by some of the jury and the people in the gallery. The puma's head snapped around at the laugh and his furious bronze glare leveled on Sean, teeth gleaming through drawn lips. Sean raised his head higher and just stared right back, forcing himself to grin. The judge rapped his gavel smartly to restore order.

"So, after he ordered you to perform fellatio, he climaxed?"

"No, I probably would've puked." Anthony lowered his hand and shrugged, still smiling that strange little smile. "He forced me to stand, then turned me around and shoved me over one of the ducts, and then he just - well - fucked me like an animal."

"Excuse me, mister Blane? Like an animal?"

"Yeah. Nothing about it other than that; he shoved that damn harpoon in me without even letting me prepare for it, and said he was 'going to make me scream, going to make me bleed', like some sort of mantra while he pounded the hell out of my ass."

"Unpleasant, I would imagine. And did you do either of those things?"

"Sir, I'm gay, okay? I'm used to that. No, he didn't make me scream. He's hardly big enough to hurt, except for those evil fucking barbs. I didn't bleed until he sank his claws into my neck and scalp, and that's what made me scream." Sean touched the line of dark scar tissue that bisected his brow and ran to one side of his nose. He could empathize with the young man all too well. Except, for Sean, the cat had felt like a freight train trying to navigate a soda straw. "All said and done, it was over in maybe three minutes, tops. He just gets his climax and walks away buckling his pants."

"And after he left, what did you do?"

"I put my pants back on, and went back inside. I'm sure some of those fat cats saw me bleeding, but no one asked shit about it. I left and went to the hospital for a rape kit, and filed a police report."

"That was two years ago. Why so long to come forward?"

"Because I didn't want to die, that's why." Anthony gave Le'thal an incredulous glower. "He's shacked up with the rackets, he's got a lot of pull with a lot of dangerous people. If I'd gone to the cops and put a finger on him, I would've been in the funeral shaft with all those others. Just another missing person whose bones the police would be finding a century from now."

"And yet here you are."

Anthony nodded soberly, "And now here I am. When I filed that rape report I knew that they'd take DNA, and hoped one day someone would pop positive on it. I knew who it would be, and I've waited two years to sit where I am right now and point my finger at them and say, 'He did it!'" Le'thal said nothing for a few seconds, letting the explosive outburst percolate through the jurists.

"And, mister Blane, is the perpetrator of your sexual assault here today?"

"Hell yes he is."

"Could you point him out for the jury?"

Slowly raising one arm Anthony leaned forward and stabbed a finger toward the defense table, his expression livid and victorious. "He's right there _, sitting right there at that table, the nutless wonder! That god damned cat took what I was not going to give, like I was just some meat puppet. That cat, the puma right there, **_raped** me!"

Le'thal nodded slowly and turned toward the judge, "Thank you for your courage, Anthony. No further questions."

"Your witness." The judge whuffed toward the defense. Standing to a whole impressive five feet the baboon straightened his gray sport coat and waddled toward the stand, his legs relatively short for his torso and broad shoulders, making him look like an upright, walking triangle.

"Andy, as you've -"

"Mister Blane." Anthony muttered, cutting the defense attorney off.

"Excuse me, son?"

"It's Mister Blane, ape, not Andy, not 'son'. Just Mister Blane."

The baboon heaved a sigh with a shake of his head, "Very well, Mister Blane. As you've already stated to the court, you are gay, are you not?"

"I am."

"Then, would it not stand to reason that you might approach my client in that regard?"

"Not on your life."

"As one accounted to be rather appealing to the eye, I've been told that you approached him during your break with just such a proposition, stating just such a fact."

"No."

"You did this, did you not?"

"No way I did."

"So, you're stating, under oath mind you, that you did not approach my client with a proposition to engage in a tryst on the catwalks on your break?"

"I don't do fur, monkey man."

"Mister Blane, please address the defense as Mister Mullhune." The judge growled gently with a dip of his long, narrow muzzle and a level stare. Anthony glowered back but, after a moment, sighed and nodded.

"I don't do non-humans." He stated again with a flat sigh.

"So you're saying you're a specieist?"

"Objection, misdirection." The leopard at the defense table exclaimed, half standing to lean over the table.

"Goes to character, your honor."

"Mister Mullhune, the witness has already stated his sexual predilections. Further examination is unwarranted. Sustained."

The baboon nodded curtly at the termination of his line of questioning and backtracked, "As you said, you are gay, but you don't care for cats, is that true? Is it not also true that you once worked at The Dog House as a dancer, six years ago?"

"Yes, I did. I was a dancer." Anthony scowled and crossed his arms, tearing his gaze away from the baboon and raking the far walls with a glare before letting his wandering eyes settle upon Sean. They stayed there.

"And, five years ago, you were picked up for hustling on the strip?" Mullhune turned toward the jury, "Hustling, referring to male prostitution, ladies and gentlemen."

"I was arrested, yes. The charges were dropped."

"And again, seven months later, for the same charge? This time, correct me if my information is inaccurate, for offering services to a cerval?"

"Yes, dropped. I was a dancer, and he told me he needed them at a party. I didn't realize the service he wanted was not dancing, and that he was a cop."

"So, you have a record of propositioning men for sex, even non-humans."

"No, that I was looking for work when work was slow, and got raked in by one of those countless stings NVPD puts on to keep the tourists safe." He finally looked away from Sean to stare down at the defense attorney, "As a dancer, not a hustler. I don't need to offer some ass to make some cash, all I've got to do is shake it." Sean chuffed a short laugh through his nose and, when he looked up, found the cat staring at him again. He met the stare with a quirk of his brow and a challenging lift of his chin.

"So, you're telling us that you prefer the sexual favors of other men, yet you say that you would not make such a proposition to my client? Strictly on the bounds that he is feline?"

"Not unless he just wanted to watch me dance, and a lot of men do."

"Did you offer our client a - dance - as you call it?"

"No, and not only because he's a cat. I don't like brutes, either, or thugs or any low-brow, median IQ muscle. I like my dick to come with a brain, and one that doesn't shed."

"From claims that you're a dancer back to a mention of sex, again. Are you sure you did not offer a - service - to my client, one perhaps that he may have misconstrued?"

"I was working as an usher, there, not a dancer. No, I would not have made any offer, sexual or performance."

"Yet by the end of the night you provided the former."

"It was not provided, it was forcibly taken."

"So you took exception to the method of intercourse he offered."

Anthony snorted, "What offer? He made it very clear what would happen if I didn't get on my knees and suck his dick."

"And, as such, are upset about the whole liaison." Mullhune commented blandly, "Enough to seek vengeance, here." He swept the courtroom with one hand.

"Upset?" the young man exclaimed, aghast. "Upset does not even come close!"

"Are you often upset with your lovers? How many others have you sought to railroad with your little tricks?"

"One. Only one. And it's no trick, it's my right under the law, or have you forgotten the law in favor of your wallet, ape?"

"Mister Mullhune, Mister Blane." The judge warned again. Anthony shot him a withering sidelong glance.

"I see you have a slight fault with your temper, Mister Blane. Is that your usual demeanor when your trysts go south?"

"I'm the one usually going south, mister, and I tend to enjoy it, when the approach is mutual."

"Sir, or Mister Mullhune. Please watch how you address the representatives of the court." Once more the weimeriner broke in, with more of a growl to his voice.

"So you're admitting that there was an approach?"

"No, there was no approach. It was an attack!" Anthony stabbed the palm of one hand with the fingers of the other. "I already said, I don't like cats, even if they're tiny little things in the package department." Anthony stressed each point with an angry stab, glaring across at the puma who sat in his chair with a flat stare as if bored. "And I sure as hell don't like the idea of a cheese grater being shoved in my ass. Even a very, very small one." He brought his gaze down from the cat, pointedly leaning forward to peer over the edge of the witness stand to look down at the baboon. "And, Mister Mullhune, I don't mix work with play."

"You were on break, as you said."

"You're pretty dense. I said 'no' how many times now, in how many ways? No, I did not make a move on your genderless kitten, he's not my type."

"That being understood, how is it that when he asked you to take off your pants, you did?"

Anthony dipped his head to gaze flatly down at the baboon, then pointedly looked up across at the puma, and finally back over toward Sean. "Shorty - er, Mister Mullgoon - look at me! I'm, what, a buck-and-three-quarters, in fully dressed? He's what, two fifty? Two eighty stark naked? All brawn, no brain?" He lifted his chin and pulled down the collar of his shirt, leaning forward to let the baboon look at his neck. Sean could not see the scars from where he sat but Tracy stood and sashayed over to take a look, her long tail held straight out behind her swaying slowly as if to show off the fact that hers worked. "You think 'no' was going to cut it when I had claws half an inch from my jugular? You fucking damn well believe I did what he told me to do."

"And did not fight back?"

"No! How could I?" Anthony dropped back in his chair as Tracy made a slow turn to amble back to her table. "He would've pitched me off the roof like yesterday's garbage, and you bet no one would've noticed what was left of me in the bushes on the seventh floor _executive_mezzanine!" He made air-quotes with his fingers to stress the word.

"So, in a moment of weakness, you accepted his response to your proposition." Mullhune nodded with a shrug, "No further questions, your honor."

"Proposition?!! I did not - asshole!" He stood and glared at the baboon's back as he waddled back toward the defense table.

The judge turned to gaze at the flustered young man until he calmed, "You may step down, Mister Blane. We'll take a brief recess for lunch and reconvene at two-o-clock." The weimeriner lifted his gavel and let it drop with an authoritative 'crack'. With a hissed oath Anthony stalked off the witness stand.

Sean stood and turned to leave, only to be stopped at the end of the seating aisle by Anthony, "Lunch?" the young man growled, clearly flustered.

Sean blinked, taken aback. He certainly did not want to go on any sort of date with the, admittedly dashingly handsome, young homosexual. "I wasn't -"

Anthony shook his head, "I'm not, man, just - just, I don't want to sit around alone and mull over that bullshit while I'm trying to eat." He jerked his head toward the courtroom floor, "I just want to sit down and fucking talk, about something other than this. So, lunch? You can tell me about New York."

"Uhm, yeah, sure." Sean shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets and filing out with the rest of the gallery observers.

Chapter 3 < > Chapter 5