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.

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 Six - Conviction

Thegray door filled his view, and Nick stared at it - mind as blank as the door's surface. Another stressful 'group development' session was behind him at last, and he felt sick. The counselor had forced him to talk about a time he had tried very hard to forget.

He refused, and the entire group had turned against him in an instant. As always. So, now here he was, facing the seclusion room's featureless, heavy door once again.

Struggling to not think about what they had said to him.

"...Did you do it?"

Nick started and looked up at the teenager, surprised. She was grinning at him. That happy grin she always seemed to wear.

"... Yeah..." he mumbled in return, directing his gaze to the toes of his ruined sneakers on dirty blue carpet. "What are you doin'? You're gonna get us fuckin'killed!"

"Aw, don't worry, he's gonna be away for a few minutes." She shrugged dismissively. "How did it go?"

Nick lidded his eyes briefly. "A'ight..."

"Told you!"

"Whatever."

The leopard winked. "Gotta have a little faith in folks, that's all!" Nick had always found the almost musical, southern lilt to her voice to be soothing. "Sometimes it pays off, y'know?"

"Bullshit." Nick sighed.

Evelyn shrugged and looked the cheetah boy over. "You feelin' okay?" she asked, running a paw through her long, snowy head-fur. "You lookin' like hell."

Nick groaned internally. They were in the middle of the corridor leading to the seclusion room, where a counselor had ordered him to stand and stare at the door while he went to get or do something - something that was probably not going to be pleasant for Nick. If they were caught talking...

She always did this. Nobody else tried to talk to Nick like she did. Even when it was a stupid idea.

"Fuckin' tired..." he mumbled, rubbing an eye.

"Bad dreams?" Her voice was soft.

Nick shook his head. "Just can't sleep."

"Boy do I know how that goes..." Evelyn whispered cryptically. "So what's he like?"

"Who?"

"The guy, the coyote. The one who visits every now 'n' then. He's your social worker or somethin', yeah?"

Nick just stared at the floor some more. After several seconds, he gave a non-committal grunt. "I don't give a shit..." he mumbled. "He can piss off."

Evelyn looked at him steadily for a moment. "Nick..." she said gravely. "It's better if you got someone to talk to. Someone on your side. When they're all against you."

"What?" The cheetah looked up properly at last, attempting to meet the older girl's eyes for the first time today, but she was looking away herself now. Lost in thought.

She smiled wanly. "I had a friend," she murmured. "He was awesome, you know. My mom and dad... church, everyone was, like, everywhere, always goin' on about fags and sluts..." She paused. "I thought I had nobody to talk to 'bout it, but this guy listened. Even said he'd pretend to be my boyfriend to get the heat off me, you know?"

"Yeah, and you still got here," Nick grumbled sourly.

Her smile became indulgent. Mysterious. "Yeah, but I don't care. I'm still okay. I'm okay now." She inched closer. "Nick... can I tell you what he told me?"

"Whatever." Nick twitched, looking over his shoulder when he heard a sound. The corridor was still empty.

When he looked back, bizarrely, she was wiping at an eye. "It's... y'know... it's got me this far," she whispered. "Just knowing this."

Nick frowned and looked up at her. Her blue eyes were shimmering, and the sincerity on her face took his breath away. "What...?"

Evelyn sniffed and wiped at her nose with a wrist. After a suitable pause, she opened her muzzle and chuckled. "It sounds real corny, I know."

The cheetah shot her an impatient glare.

"A'ight, a'ight, calm down." Evelyn grinned and rubbed the wetness from her eyes. She cleared her throat daintily. "Everyone always wants to tell others what to be, and who they are."

Nick frowned. "What?"

But Evelyn just continued. "But the only person who knows who you are is you. You're the only one who can change who you are, the only one who can protect it. So they've gotta get inside your mind to screw with you. Everyone always tries..."

The younger kit was silent, ears perked. Slowly, he glanced up at the leopard girl's face again, a bewildered expression on his face.

"Don't let 'em, Nick..." Evelyn's voice had lowered to a whisper, and Nick was sure he heard heavy, adult footfalls coming down the corridor towards them. "Just don't let 'em get into your head. Keep a lil' bit of yourself inside, all locked up tight, and hold onto it forever. Don't _ever_forget who you are. Don't let _them_take it away. It's yours. C-cause someday, in a place like this, it migh' be all you got."

---

November 30th

It was much better here. Quieter, if nothing else. But it was still just another alley, and he'd seen enough of those in his life already.

Chase sat heavily on the bitumen, pulling the warm coat he had been given tight around his slightly trembling body. The cold was another of the many things that had sunk into the background of his awareness now. He was used to it by now. Just like the throbbing pain in his backside from sitting for so long.

It still astounded him that the coyote guy had let him go. Once he stepped into that building, Chase expected to be locked in immediately. Whether for his crimes or 'for his own good.' But Czejak had made sure he was equipped, given him twenty bucks, then allowed him to leave. Let him think about things in a familiar setting.

His new spot was a small service alleyway, between several tall office buildings. He was well concealed here, as large metal dumpsters and a neat pile of plastic garbage bags blocked him from view. There were some shattered beer bottles in a pile not far from him, misty with dew and condensation glistening in the pre-dawn light, but there were no shards near him. Somebody would need to head between the buildings, turn onto the alley between them then walk all the way up to the secluded little nook he had taken for his own.

It shielded him from the elements pretty good too. Out of everywhere he'd tried to sleep that wasn't inside a house, this was one of the best places ever.

But fuck was he ever sick of trying to sleep on concrete and bitumen - and he wouldn't ever dream of sleeping in the dumpsters or anything like that. And he was even sicker of the persistent cold that made sleep impossible. He really needed to get himself a sleeping bag or whatever. Some-fucking-how.

The feline rubbed at his dry eyes, sighing. With nothing else to do, he looked up and refocused on the grimy concrete.

In front of him, drab graffiti covered the building wall. It wasn't street art or anything like that. It wasn't art. Nothing impressive. In fact, Chase got the feeling he wasn't the first to discover this place when he needed a good night's rest.

Honestly, Chase liked to see graffiti. It was comforting. He knew it was pointless, and he never bothered with it himself, but as far as he was concerned, it had a right to exist. It was right that it did exist. It would be wrong if it didn't.

The scripture of the streets.

"Fuck The World" one had scrawled in simple, black spray-paint. It hadn't set very well, and the paint had bled slightly, slipping down the dull gray bricks and into the crevasses of mortar between them.

Chase smiled. If he could, he'd add "not enough time" under it. But he wasn't sure how to spell "enough" and didn't have any paint anyway.

A chill that was not from the cold worked its way through him.

Kyle had loved this shit. Graffiti. Usually it was just about tagging - writing some weird moniker that he'd never explained to them. So had Jack. The rest of them never bothered though.

It wasn't something there was a rule against. They just didn't give a shit to go around doing it.

Chase felt heavy all of a sudden.

He couldn't think about Kyle. Couldn't think about what he and Chris had done for him, and how he was turning his back on them now. After everything they did...

He'd run away. Again. It's just what he did. Fuck...

The doubts were still there, but Chase knew he had come too far now to change his mind.

He owed Chris and Jack everything, he knew that. But he had to leave. What he had once thought was safety and stability had proven to be just as chaotic and uncertain as living with his crazy dad.

So now he had to trust Nick's social worker. For almost a year, Nick had told him to never trust social workers, and now here he was.

Strangely enough, Chase did trust the guy. Maybe because he knew he was screwed if he couldn't trust him.

As the sun crept over the horizon, slowly eating away at the night's bitter chill and giving shape to the shadows, Chase's preoccupied brain realized it was almost morning. Soon, he'd have to move away from here. He had barely gotten any sleep, having spent the night dwelling on his choices and what paths lay open for his future, but the dawn of the next day only brought conviction to him. Like it was melting away his fears.

And that meant more than anything. Just 'knowing' somehow that he was doing the right thing, and doing it even though he was scared. He was making progress, doing something to help himself. That was huge.

Another day was dawning, but this time, Chase had a goal, and a plan.

Sighing contentedly, Chase huddled even more tightly against the wall, closing his eyes.

For now, he'd sleep. As best he could, anyway. When he woke up, he knew where to go. He had somewhere to go - and that felt fuckin' amazing.

He wouldn't trade it for the world.

It was just another cold, wintry morning. Snow fluttered delicately from the sky while frosty mists clung to the ground like lost clouds. Not the most ideal time to be driving a sedan down remote country roads for hours.

Czejak parked out the front of the gate's main entrance, gripping his suitcase and getting out of the car. It was almost routine, and that made him feel terrible. Knowing that it was almost just another day at the office for him by now.

But, ironically, he was used to that. His own complacency had made him sick many a time, but there wasn't much he could do. It was a disgusting travesty, a blight on the character of a country he loved, proof of a twisted, culture-consuming disease of disregard and cruelty, and he couldn't do a thing about it. Nothing except for job.

Another day at the office.

The guards let him through without much delay, and he spoke with a counselor briefly at the reception office. They asked him to wait to be escorted to the interview room. So he waited.

To his surprise, it was the leopard guard that came to escort him. He came around the corner to the front entrance, a grave expression on his face, and shuffled towards him.

"I'm glad to see you," murmured the psychologist.

Karl's manner was terse. "More so." He looked around. "Come on."

Czejak followed behind his escort, down the oddly empty corridors. Marching along at a brisk pace, neither of them found the time to talk. The sense of urgency was not lost on Czejak.

In less than a minute, the leopard had led them to the interview door and laid his paw on the handle. He said nothing, but the look he shot Czejak spoke volumes.

"Alright," the coyote whispered. "Thank you."

"Call if you need anything."

"Right."

The door was opened and Czejak stepped forward to push it aside himself. As usual, Nick was slouched in his chair on the other side of the plain school-desk, studying its surface with strangely distracted intensity.

"Good morning, Nick!" Czejak piped, injecting a little joy into his tone.

The kit shifted slightly. "Hey."

As he had done many times so far, the coyote slipped over to the desk and set his suitcase down by the simple office chair. He sat down with a groan born of multiple stiff, middle-aged, under-exercised muscles. "So, how are you today?" he asked, a subtle tinge of irony in his voice.

Nick missed it. "Like shit."

"I thought so." Czejak smiled wryly. "Are you feeling any better since last time, Nick?" The kit didn't reply. "I suppose not. Is there anything you want to talk about?"

It was almost always a formality. Nick never spoke on anything without prompting, but Czejak wanted him to understand he could talk about anything if he wanted to. It also presented a good time for him to say whatever nonsense they had ordered him to say, if anything. Every now and then, though, there was something Nick really wanted to talk about.

After a moment, Nick swallowed. His eyes flicked upwards briefly, then lowered again. Uncertain. "... I got into a fight."

"Another one, huh?"

But Nick didn't smile. "Yeah."

Czejak sat forwards. "Do you want to talk about it?" The cheetah boy nodded, his face blank. "Okay. What happened?"

Nick hesitated, seemingly gathering himself. "I-" he faltered, looking distracted. "They were hitting him when he was on the floor. I just..."

"Who was hitting whom, Nick?"

"Uh... Daniel Lewis and some other guy." The kit's voice was oddly quiet. "Hitting Garret. He's new."

Czejak sighed. "I'm really not surprised to hear that. You didn't like that, did you?"

The psychologist just smiled slightly as his young client nodded. He knew Nick had a shockingly strong sense of justice and loyalty; although it wasn't always apparent.

But something was wrong. The kit's haunted expression told him louder than words that it wasn't just a normal scuffle. As if facing off with a behemoth like Daniel Lewis - again - could ever be.

"Did you get hurt, Nick?" asked Czejak, frowning in concern. "Are you okay?"

Nick ignored him for several moments. "Why do they do it?" he asked suddenly.

"Do what, Nick?"

The cheetah swallowed. "Why do they... Everyone does what they want." He paused, puzzling his way through wording his question. "They just do what they tell them. Why?"

"Ah. I see what you mean." Czejak kept his tone neutral easily. Keeping his words neutral was a little harder. "Nick, it's very tough for you kids in here. You're a strong-willed boy, but you know what happens here. If you keep fighting them."

Nick nodded absently. "... Yeah."

The coyote bit his lip, wanting to say more. But encouraging the boy's defiance would be a terrible idea while they were being recorded.

It was no coincidence that Nick was so defiant and sorely proud. Nick was not like other children, who were often quite emotionally dependent on authority. Really, it was all they knew.

They were easily broken and tamed, then abused; the dependence they had been raised on was as a leash. The tightness of their leashes before, be it the strictness of their parents, coaches or teachers and so on, may have varied, but it was rarely something entirely new. They accepted the rules and punishments of this new, bizarre place, and surrendered. Adapted. This was just the world to them, or it would become their world.

Even outside of places like this, Czejak had seen how terribly and totally some children gave in to even the most abusive authority. Learned helplessness. Submission. Acceptance. Even terribly abused children lacked the will to fight back. He had seen it a hundred times.

Of course, places like Wilder Springs took advantage of that and then took it even further, into the truly dangerous territory of crippling dependence.

To a kid Nick, however, it was entirely different. He had been free. He had finally broken away from neglect and abuse and lived, perhaps to his detriment, under his own rules. Now he was fighting bitterly just to keep what remained of his pride, his self-esteem and independence.

Czejak wanted to explain this to his client. To admit that he admired the boy. Of course, he couldn't.

He frowned at Nick, scrutinizing the motionless boy intently.

There was a downside to Nick's mentality. Most of the kids Czejak worked with here had realized there was no way to fight. They were isolated in this place. Totally imprisoned. Lost, alone, beleaguered, and nobody would help them. So they surrendered... on the outside. Inside, they would cling to their personality and beliefs.

Or they'd try. It wouldn't save them entirely. They would leave Wilder Springs scarred, scared, and full of anger or hatred. Often toward themselves. They would be lost in the real world, unsure of their own ability to choose. On some level, they'd doubt even the things they had struggled to protect and hide, the things that made them who they were. But at least it minimized the damage, and Czejak did all he could to reinforce their hidden, mental last stand.

But Nick wasn't like that. He fought an open war, and he wasn't invincible. There were holes in his defenses, and Czejak was sure now that those weaknesses had been found.

The cheetah sniffed suddenly. "I tried to talk to him," he said softly. "He d-didn't listen. I told him he was helping them hurt us."

"Why was he attacking Garret?"

"H-he stole a pen and got us all searched. Nobody told him it was against the rules." Nick leaned onto the table, folding his arms on it. Czejak finally got a good look at his face: he had been crying.

That could mean just about anything though. Czejak knew that it was almost impossible to walk out of a group 'therapy' session here without crying. In fact, that was the goal of the session. If you weren't bawling your eyes out over your supposed misdeeds, you weren't sorry.

"And they were upset that they were searched?"

"Y-yeah."

It slipped out before Czejak could catch himself. "I think they were angry at the wrong people, then."

Nick held his breath. "I... I dunno." He sniffed again. "I dunno anymore."

"Do you want to talk about it, Nick?" A slow nod. "Okay. What's bothering you?"

Nick fidgeted a little, still seemingly lost in thought.

So Czejak let him think. For well over a minute.

Whatever it was that was on the kit's mind, it was serious. The cheetah boy didn't move an inch, staring eerily down at the surface of the desk, slumped uncomfortably.

At last Czejak leaned forward. "Nick?" he reminded gently.

"He didn't listen."

"To what?"

Nick didn't look up. Barely moved. "To me. He didn't care. Nobody cares. Nothing I say matters to anyone."

"That's not true, Nick." Czejak smiled. "It matters to me."

For some reason, that seemed to bring the kit up short. He frowned and looked up for a split second. It didn't last.

"I'm a fuckin' idiot," he said hoarsely, looking back down at the desk. "That's why nobody listens to me. I'm just w-wrong about everything."

The psychologist blinked. "I don't agree with that, Nick."

"Nobody listens. I know why; it's 'cause I'm wrong." Nick took a deep breath. "It's always me. Stuff always goes wrong for me. I think they're right, 'b-bout me, you know?"

Czejak swore under his breath. "Oh, my God, Nick..."

The cheetah ignored him. "Everybody hates me. Everyone gets rid of me. B-because it's me." He sniffed. "It's my fault. I-I'm the c-common element."

There was no way those were Nick's own words. Czejak felt his muzzle go desert-dry in seconds.

"I hate this shit!" whined Nick, swiping at his nose. "I don't wanna be like this."

"Be like what, Nick?" Czejak sighed and prepared himself.

"Startin' fights. Saying stupid shit." The kit paused. "It doesn't matter. Fuck it. Fuck everything. I don't care anymore."

Czejak growled softly to himself. "Nick, listen to me for a moment. I'm going to tell you how I see you."

"What...?"

Straightening, Czejak placed his elbows on the table and pressed his paws together firmly. "Just listen," he said, deliberately curt. "Please. I think you need a second opinion, Nick, and before the idea gets into your head, no I'm not lying to you. I don't get paid to say good things about you, believe it or not; this is the truth as I see it." He waited a moment, meeting the kit's eyes as he looked up in surprise. "You are a loyal friend, Nick. You've proven that a hundred times. Protecting the people that matter to you doesn't make you bad or a criminal. You're a moral person, who doesn't want to hurt anybody. You're tough and proud, and that's going to get you into trouble, because you think you need to prove yourself - to yourself, even. I will never agree that you're a bad kid; and as for things being all your fault, I don't think so. I think you're the way you are now because others hurt you for no good reason, when you were lost and scared."

At a loss, Nick blinked at him.

"I know what they make you say here, Nick, and I don't give a damn. That's how I see you." The coyote shook his head angrily. "Yes, Nick, you have problems. But you're not a problem. I don't believe this place is helping you, or anyone. I know you have doubts and that sometimes you blame yourself; maybe you are responsible for some of what happened to you, but you're young. Forgiving you and guiding you is more important than making you tear yourself apart over some little mistakes; over not being able to control powerful emotions born of years of trauma. I'm so very sorry that nobody ever thought to do that instead."

Of course, Nick's eyes watered. His lower lip trembled, and his ears flattened against his skull. No words came to him though.

Czejak sighed. "I know, Nick," he said softly. "I know you've always blamed yourself a little, deep down - wondered just how much of everything was your fault. I would too, and it's a good point. 'Why do these things keep happening to me?' I'd ask too. But it's not your fault, Nick. You were angry and worried when you were taken away from your parents, I would be too. You were a handful for a few, and each time they threw you away like you were broken, you got angrier, more worried. Then one sick bastard hurt you very much, told you over and over that it was your fault nobody wanted you, and that hurting you even more would make you better. I know you believed him a little. I would have. Probably already thought those things sometimes, didn't you?"

Nick sobbed aloud. "Stop!" the kit cried. "I dunno anymore. I don't know anything. Stop it..."

"And let you keep believing this? I can't do that, Nick. I know this has to be upsetting and confusing. You have to blame someone, and you are your own easiest target. I know. I've been there myself." Czejak shook his head. "Now you're wondering why I'm telling you one thing when everyone else tells you another, right? I have to be lying, don't I?"

The kit stared down at his own lap, sniffling. His shoulders heaved with quiet, suppressed sobs.

Czejak swallowed. Words catching in his constricted throat. "Nick... if you want to just go along with your program here, I won't argue with you," he said, affecting a gentle tone once again. "I don't mean to upset you. I just wanted you to know what I think. I don't care if you push away your pride and say the things they want you to say. I just don't want you to grow up hating yourself. If it's easier for you, then I'll be with you every step of the way."

Nick's shoulders heaved and he glanced at his counselor with a mixture of disbelief and shame. "... I told them I wanted to..."

"That's alright, Nick." The coyote shrugged. "It's fine."

"I-I just wanna be left alone..."

"I know. Do what you need to do. Here." Czejak leaned over and slipped a paw into his leather briefcase. After some rummaging, he lifted out a thin booklet and placed it on the desk. "I have something for you." He returned his paw to the case, feeling for something else.

Nick stared at the book. "I can't read, man."

A second later, Czejak pulled out a long, thin, flat cardboard container and laid it out next to the booklet. Both objects were brightly colored, with pictures of boats, apples and others odd things splashed across their surfaces. The coyote smiled. "You don't have to read that book, Nick."

Bemused, Nick raised his paws above the table's edge and reached for the booklet. It was only then that Czejak realized his right paw and wrist had been tightly bandaged.

"What happened to your paw, Nick?" he asked, keeping his tone pleasant.

The cheetah froze for a moment. "... Accident." Then he pulled the book towards him.

Czejak shook his head. Had Nick simply said he had been hurt during the fight, he might have believed him. "Can you use it? Is it sore?"

Nick nodded. With his left paw, he opened the book to the middle.

"It's upside down, you know." Czejak grinned.

But Nick scowled. "It's empty." And it was. The page he had opened to was blank.

Now Czejak couldn't help but snigger. "Nick," he said mirthfully, "it's a coloring book and sketchpad. It's for drawing and coloring in. Here." He slid the colorful, slender box closer to the baffled cheetah. "Have a look."

Utterly lost, Nick picked up the box and turned it over, looking for a way to open it. Eventually he located a perforated flap at the top and pulled it open. As Czejak half-expected, a half-dozen colored pencils spilled out of their container and Nick caught them clumsily.

Surprised, the kit looked at them. Then he gave a peculiar gasp, stuffed them back into the box and hurriedly shoved it away. "They're not allowed!" he exclaimed, wide-eyed. "Shit, man! What the fuck-?!"

"It's okay, it's okay, Nick," cooed his psychologist. "You can use things like this in here with me. You won't be breaking the rules."

Nick just stared in confusion and surprise, breathing hard. "I-if you're under level three you can't touch pens," he said. Then he gave a stricken gasp. "Shit!!"

The coyote lidded his eyes for a moment. "Nick, I know about the level system. It's alright."

"Oh, fuck..." Nick moaned, breathing quicker. "I'm a fuckin' idiot!"

"Nick, take a deep breath for me? Try to calm down. You won't get in trouble, I promise you." Czejak flashed a brief smile. "I wanted to give you something to do for me while I was here. Do you mind drawing for me, is that okay with you? Take your time, it's alright."

The cheetah fidgeted, wiping his face with the bandaged wrist. "I dunno..." he breathed. "I'm in deep shit, man. I-I'm in se-seclusion."

"Because of the fight?" Nick nodded. "Okay. In here, Nick, you're allowed to use pencils. Even if you're being punished. I just need to make sure you don't try to take any out of the room. Don't stick any in your pockets or anything and we'll be fine."

"I don't have pockets." The cheetah shook his head, and then took a deep, gulping breath. Trying to stave off what Czejak knew to be a nascent panic attack. To his knowledge, this was the first time Nick was threatened by one in his presence. "A-are you sure?!"

"Very sure, Nick. This is a part of my job. Can you hold a pencil with your wrist like that?"

The kit reached out for the pencils again, taking slow, deliberate breaths. "I-I dunno..."

"It's alright."

"I dunno how to draw..."

Czejak grinned. "Don't worry, it's not hard. You might even enjoy it." He chortled. "I know, I know. 'Kiddy shit,' right?"

"Y-yeah."

"Don't worry, it's not. Adults like to draw too; most of us just wish we had the time to."

More out of a need to distract himself than anything else, Nick asked, "Do you?"

"Check the last page, if you like." Czejak's smile became indulgent. "I got a little carried away."

The kit did so. The page was covered in silly, cartoon-esque drawings of various objects and furs, colored in meticulously. "You're good," Nick mumbled, staring at a big-eared mouse with exaggerated facial features and wall-eyes.

"I got okay at it when I was in university," explained his counselor. "I found it helped me to concentrate on the lectures - it always makes me laugh when I hear of teachers telling students off for doodling in class. It's highly beneficial." He shrugged. "I thought you should give it a try while we're talking today. It helps. Go on. Trust me, I'm not as crazy as I look."

Uncertainly, Nick stretched forth a shaking paw and pulled the box of pencils closer. The bandage constricting his dominant paw made it awkward, so eventually he just shook the box and the contents spilled out over the table. The kit gathered them closer to him and stared at the pile of colored sticks. Completely unsure what to do.

Czejak waited only a short moment, letting the kit accustom himself with the task he was being given. "Draw whatever you want, Nick. If something comes to mind, try to draw it. A car, a balloon or another fur. Whatever comes to mind."

The kit didn't look too thrilled, but oddly didn't object. At last Nick made his selection. He picked up the brown pencil and fumbled with it a few moments, trying to either remember how to hold it or figure out how to hold it with his paw bandaged.

A few moments of indecision next, Nick pressed the tip to the blank scrapbook paper. A shaky, uneven line resulted.

"It's been awhile, hasn't it?" Czejak asked him quietly. Nick nodded. The coyote fell silent - if nothing else, he would give Nick some time to be creative and free of the soul-crushing seclusion room. Not that his regular room was very different.

Eventually, Nick settled into his task. His artwork was graceless and juvenile, barely much better than the sketching of a much younger boy, but seeing it made Czejak smile regardless. He watched silently, listening to the kit's steady, soft breathing.

"You can keep drawing, Nick," the coyote finally said. "I just want to talk while you do. Is that okay?"

The kit nodded again. "... Okay."

"Are you feeling any better since last time?"

Distracted, Nick belatedly shook his head, still looking down at his drawing. "No."

"Did they stop doing the thing that was making you feel really bad?"

Nick puzzled out the meaning of that and gave a tiny inclination of his head.

"Did that help?"

"... Yeah..." The cheetah took a shuddering breath.

Czejak decided to throw caution to the winds. "How did it make you feel, when they were doing it to you, Nick?"

Slowly looking up, Nick stared at his counselor in silence. Uncertainty lurked in his eyes, but Czejak just nodded.

The kit still wasn't sure. "Go on, Nick. It's alright."

"I-I dunno..." Nick shifted.

"Think about it. If you can, keep drawing. It's alright. I just want to know how it made you feel. It wasn't nice, was it?"

After a moment, Nick swallowed. "It was fuckin' shit," he said pithily. He forced himself to keep going, penciling in the outline of another object.

"Can you describe it?"

It didn't seem like the boy was going to respond. "I-I felt like I didn't care. I just..." He swore under his breath. "Drop it, okay? It was shit."

"Okay." Czejak concealed a smile. It was reassuring that Nick felt up to his usual surliness now. At least a little, anyway.

Nick paused, blinking. "I didn't... I didn't get all angry and shit when they were doin' it..." he said tentatively.

Czejak shook his head firmly. "That's not a good thing, Nick. We don't learn to deal with emotions by smothering them with-"

"... I don't wanna keep fuckin' up..."

"I know that, Nick. You're not a bad person." The coyote scratched his muzzle. "I know what you're thinking, but I don't think you need drugs for your anger problems, Nick. You need to work on them."

"L-like..." Nick frowned thoughtfully. "Like, just let it out? So it doesn't come out when you don't want it?"

"No. It doesn't work like that, I'm afraid. You develop habits, Nick. We should be working on helping you develop good habits for dealing with anger, and that's what I've been trying to do for you. Letting it out a little is okay." Czejak shrugged. "It's a natural emotion. But you need to know when to stop yourself, and how to control it."

Nick shook his head. "I-I can't..."

"I know. It's not easy, Nick. For some people, it can be very hard. I'm one-hundred percent sure you can do it, though. But you're angry for a reason; I'd like to work things out with you, but I can't while you're in here. I'm not convinced you need drugs just yet. You don't want that sort of thing anyway, do you?"

Again, Nick shook his head. This time more fervently. "No."

"Okay. I know what you're saying, Nick. It _is_a problem for you. We can deal with it when you get out of here." Czejak nodded at the scrapbook. "Don't you want to keep drawing?"

Nick flicked his eyes over the page he was doodling on. He picked up a red pencil and started coloring in. The reluctance was obvious, but Czejak got the feeling he was enjoying himself at least a little. He hoped so anyway.

Curiosity nudged at him. "What's that you're drawing?" he asked.

Finishing up, Nick looked at his counselor sheepishly. "Beer."

It was a bottle of some kind, but Czejak would never have guessed what it contained. It was outlined in blue and the liquid inside was golden-yellow. Where the label should be, there was a smear of colors.

Suddenly, Czejak had to laugh. He should've expected that.

A wry, cheeky smile snuck onto Nick's face. "Y-yeah. It's the stuff, um... Gary gave me."

"I bet it was good," Czejak chortled. "He's got good taste."

"Yeah."

That was as natural a segue as he could hope for. Czejak decided it was time.

"Keep drawing if you like, Nick. I just have a question for you."

"What?" Nick started on another shape. His pencil moving very slowly.

"Gary is thinking of asking you to come back."

As expected, Nick stopped drawing. He slowly raised his eyes to stare at his counselor blankly. "What...?"

"He is. He made a mistake, and he's very sorry."

Nick gawked slightly. "But..."

"It's true, Nick. I can't make any promises, but he's really thinking about it."

The kit's eyes flitted over the table wildly. "W-what the fuck?"

"Are you still interested, Nick?" Czejak smiled. "Gary misses you. He liked you a lot."

But Nick's muzzle hung open and he stared down at his messy drawings. Lost.

It was no surprise for Czejak. Never in his entire life had a family that rejected Nick try to get him back. Not even his own. Not even the last one that he ran away from. They had simply given up on him.

After a moment, Nick raised his head weakly. "... He'll change his mind," he mumbled bitterly. "He will."

"Why do you think that, Nick?"

Nick looked away, his eyes glistening yet again. "He won't want me. He fuckin' told me he don't want me to stay..." Using the bandage, he rubbed away the wetness.

Czejak clasped his paws and leaned onto his elbows. "Gary was scared, Nick. That's all. It's a big deal, having to look after someone else."

"It's not that. I'm a stupid asshole. I can't even read! Even little kids can read." Nick swore aloud. "Stop telling me this stuff! Nobody wants me, it's true." He paused. "I-I don't care. He doesn't really want me back. H-he doesn't like me. He didn't even wanna do that stuff with me."

Czejak affected an amused little look. "That's not what he said, Nick. You've got the problem the wrong way around. That's not what he said about you at all."

"Wh-whatever."

The silence stretched on as Czejak waited for the tiny bombshell to explode. Over a minute passed, with Nick just staring at his feeble drawings and Czejak waiting quietly.

"... Wh-what did he say about me?" Nick finally whispered.

"Gary?" The psychologist knew the answer, of course. "Remember what I said earlier? Pretty much the same thing. But you scared him, Nick. He was really scared that you only let him do what you did because you didn't want him to send you away - he was afraid that he had hurt you." The coyote looked at his charge sympathetically, noting the vulnerability in those gray eyes. "You moved too quickly, Nick. You have to be honest about these things."

"... I told you it was my fault."

"No, Nick, I promise you that it wasn't. Gary overreacted." Czejak gestured at the scrapbook. "Keep drawing, Nick. We've got more to cover. Just pick something and try to draw it. Whatever you think of. Trust me, it will help."

Lethargically, Nick lifted another pencil. It was clear that he only did because his counselor was asking.

It made Czejak feel ashamed. "You'll never guess who I met a few days ago," he said after letting the kit draw for a few minutes. "I've got some good news."

Again, Nick shot him that look that clearly challenged him to say something that he'd give a damn about. "What?"

"I met Chase, Nick." Czejak chuckled. "He asked for me by name. I guess you told him about me, right?"

The cynical look slid right off Nick's face. "Wh-what? Shit, really?"

"Yep. He asked me to say hello for him."

Nick's ears perked. "A-are you gonna... uh, is he gonna be one of yours?"

"Definitely. I'll look after him."

"They gonna put him in here?"

"I'd like to see them try." Czejak reached down for his briefcase again. "He hasn't given anyone any information about the others. And no, I don't know what's happened to them; I don't think Chase knows either."

"Oh."

"Here." Withdrawing a small, post-card sized picture from his briefcase, Czejak straightened and handed it to Nick. "He let me take a picture. Is this him?"

Nick's breathing had stopped. He eyed the photograph. "Y-yeah."

"He's a good kid. We've been talking about things. It's very helpful, since there are things we can't discuss here." The coyote scratched his ear. "Chase doesn't mind talking about them though. He's quite the chatterbox, isn't he?"

Nick laughed and sniffed simultaneously. "Y-yeah."

"He really misses you, Nick." Czejak paused artfully. "He doesn't want to live on the streets anymore. Says he's sick of it. He really wants a proper home. Someone to care for him without having to be scared of them."

The cheetah bit his lip nervously. "W-what things are you talkin' 'bout with him?"

"Well, that thing, for example. The videos you guys did." Frowning, Czejak drummed a finger on the desktop. "You know. All that sort of stuff."

After a moment, Nick shot him a look that was both cheeky and shy. "O-oh."

"I would really like to do the same with you, I really need to talk with you about it properly."

The kit squirmed, a sheepish grin on his features. "I don't mind, man."

"I know you don't." Czejak inclined his head at the accursed camera.

As a result, Nick's ears folded. "... They still say I don't know what I'm talkin' about..." he whispered.

His counselor leaned forwards. "That's because they're still full of it, Nick. You absolutely can know when you're your age. It doesn't matter that much anyway, does it?" He grinned. "Chase has been telling me what kinds of things you got up to."

Although the golden-tawny fur concealed it, Czejak was sure that Nick's cheeks were starting to redden.

"I think you guys enjoyed yourselves though. That's what counts, right?" The coyote's grin was merciless.

"Fuck you!" Nick retorted. A tiny smile on his muzzle.

But Czejak just grinned even more. Then his watch started to beep. He looked down at it.

Nick's expression turned numb. "You gotta go?"

"No, not yet. Not for a while. It's just letting me know the time. Are you having fun drawing?"

The kit glanced at the paper. "No..."

"Not in the mood, I know." Czejak nodded. "Just try to do it in the background, if you know what I mean." Nick did not. He just frowned. "Nick, how do you feel about the idea of going back to Gary?"

Drooping again, Nick absently picked up a pencil and started scratching in a rough rectangle on the paper. "... What d'you mean?"

"How does it make you feel?"

Another heavy silence fell over the interview room. Nick kept his eyes on the scrapbook, sketching something unrecognizable from the other side of the table. Thinking. Worried.

Scared?

At last, he swallowed. "C-cold."

"It makes you feel cold?"

Nick nodded. "I... he won't want me. I don't wanna..."

"You don't want to be rejected again?" the therapist probed gently.

Nick nodded. He shifted uncomfortably, still lazily drawing... something. "It costs money and stuff," he mumbled. "Why the fuck would Gary want me?"

"Because he likes you."

Nick shook his head. "Fuck off. ... He d-doesn't even like me for that stuff, you know? I'm a-! I m-mean, like, h-how do I fuck that up? I'm not even..."

For some reason Czejak had to laugh. "Oh, Nick, I told you! That's the precise opposite of his problem!"

"... What?"

Grinning with the sheer absurdity of what he was about to say, Czejak leaned forward. "Nick, he panicked because he was afraid he couldn't keep his paws off of you!" Another laugh, though the coyote kept his voice low. "He blamed himself because he couldn't tell at first that you were scared he'd send you away. It was a big misunderstanding."

Nick blinked. "W-what?"

"Nick, listen to me. I can't talk to you properly about these things here, and that makes me angry, because what they're doing here about them is very unhealthy. Shame and fear and self-doubt are not healthy ways to deal with this." The coyote's expression became deadly serious. "Nick, you only play with others like that when you love them and really want to do it - for itself, not for any other reason. If you really want to do it and you love him- or her- then I really don't care who you do what with, just be careful. There are risks, and you need to be careful."

Nick averted his eyes. "Whatever."

"I know you know a little about this, Nick. If you go fooling around without being careful, you absolutely can get yourself hurt. It's not a lie, or someone trying to scare you away from doing it. I have no problem with sexuality, but I do have a problem with you risking your health." Czejak sighed. "Before you left, Nick, how did you feel about Gary? Did you like him, Nick? Were you really okay with what you did together?"

The kit thought about it for a moment - looking utterly defeated. His spirit had almost been trampled to pieces in the last few weeks, and now his closest confidant had just scolded him. Again. He didn't even have the energy to tell his counselor to go fuck himself like he usually did. Regardless of whether or not he privately admitted the coyote was right. "Yeah, I was..." he confessed. "H-he's cool. I liked him."

"It's nice having someone around who listens and isn't a jerk, isn't it?"

Nick nodded. "Yeah... H-he's a funny fuck..." There was a pause, then the wistful comment slipped out seemingly before Nick could catch it. "He thought I was funny too."

"Ah." Czejak nodded.

"I liked him..." quavered Nick, sniffing. "I didn't wanna go this time."

"It's alright, Nick. I know. It'll be alright." Czejak closed his eyes and groaned silently.

"I-is that really why he didn't want me...? Uh, why he called them? For real?" Nick's ears had drooped like dying flowers.

The coyote inclined his head again. "That's the real reason, I swear. Nick, I'm sorry to have to ask this now, but it is sort of important: did you really find him attractive? Did you really want to do it? Were you really interested like that when you-?"

After a moment, Nick snorted wryly and nodded. Seemingly trying to brighten himself up. "Y-yeah. He's, uh." He smiled faintly. "Y-you ever see him w-with, like, his shirt off?" he asked inanely, looking suddenly shy. "Or, uh, anything?"

Czejak shook his head, chortling. "No. It hasn't exactly come up yet. But I believe you, Nick."

The kit nodded, then just stared blankly at the table's top.

There was a hiatus. Czejak let his young client absorb what he had said. Eventually he spoke, his voice soft and muffled in the carpeted, stifling cell.

"Are you willing to give him another chance, Nick?"

Slowly Nick raised his head. Eyes full of injury and doubt. "I don't know..."

"Please think about it, Nick. Please... I have to get you out of here." Czejak rubbed his suddenly numb face. "Okay. We'll talk about it later." He smiled. "We've still got twenty minutes. How about you keep drawing until I have to leave?"

Nick hung his head. "I wanna talk instead."

"Alright," Czejak consented readily. "Next time I come here, Nick, would you like me to try to teach you to read?"

"What? Can you do that?"

The coyote chuckled. "I think so. I'm pretty good at the whole reading thing, I like to think."

Their eyes met then. Czejak's heart stopped and a gentle warmth spread through his entire body.

Though Nick had said nothing, his expression told everything that he could not. An unspoken thank you, with the power of a thousand empty words.

"Alright, Nick," choked Czejak, overwhelmed momentarily. "Let's talk..."

"It's a cult."

The ferret frowned. "A cult?"

Karl nodded darkly, lying back in his chair. "It is. That's exactly what this place is."

"Why a cult?" The mustelid sighed, passing his coffee cup to the other paw and crossing his legs.

"It's amusing," growled Karl, casting a quick glance at psychiatrist. He still wasn't entirely sure if he liked Thornton. "Then again, maybe it ain't. Even qualified academics can fall for this bullshit. It's sad."

Thornton looked affronted for a moment. Then those dark eyes became concerned. "Maybe you're right..."

The two of them had met in the quiet medical office, deciding to take what could vaguely be termed their 'break' together in there instead of another room. Hidden from surveillance and interruption.

"It's mind-control. Institutionalization. Shaming. Confrontation. Peer pressure. Mantras." Karl sighed. "Not just for the kids. I see what the others are doing to me." He sipped at his coffee. "When I was stationed in Africa during the Kenyan Civil War, there was a cult that over-took an entire damn town. I was liaising with them pretty often, so I saw how they worked. Absolute maniacs. When I came back home, I looked this stuff up. Wanted to understand how it could happen. It's a trap. You get surrounded by others, converts, zealots, idiots, whatever you want to call them, and isolated. Nowhere to go."

"Your whole world becomes 'The Group.'" Thornton swallowed. "I know. The real world fades away... and all that matters are the rules. The approval of your peers. Abuse can become normalized. A closed-in society that rejects outsiders and their values."

"Even if you free your mind, you find your feet shackled to the fucking floor." Karl cursed softly. "This place is not about helping children, no matter how much you or I or the others twist things to tell ourselves that. Do you know how fucking much this facility made last year? I'm talking profits."

"... No."

"Four million. I'm getting a shade above minimum wage here."

The ferret's features became truly troubled now. "I-I see your point."

"It almost worked," Karl whispered, mostly to himself. "I was thinking 'hey, maybe they're right! Tough-love!' Then I remembered I'd worked in a psych-ward. I know better than that. This is not helping. Tough love doesn't work. And I see no damn love here." He shuddered, thinking about the horrific scene from only a few days ago.

A tiny twelve-year-old kit with arms like knotted pipe-cleaners facing off against an angry monster three times his weight. Risking his life to defend another boy. Having to perform CPR on the un-breathing child had chilled his blood.

"I can't leave..." Thornton mumbled. "I can't."

"Why not? You're being used. Think back to your classes on ethics and ask yourself if drugging Nick Davis just for having an attitude was a remotely acceptable thing for you to do to a helpless child."

The ferret looked stricken, almost dropping his coffee. "I didn't want to..."

"But you did." Karl closed his eyes. "I'm not judging you, doc. I helped too."

The psychiatrist paused for a moment. "I'll be honest, Karl," he murmured. "I don't know if I can trust you..."

"You think I'm here to test your loyalty?" The leopard sniffed and raised his coffee. "And you wonder why I call this a fucking cult. I trust you because I see it in your face, Thornton. You're starting to realize what you've become. The crap you're doing. I've seen that_before too. But maybe you're the one testing _my loyalty."

Thornton swallowed hard. "Have you ever done anything you regret, Mister Rankin? That kept you up all night?"

"I once shot a pregnant woman in a warzone, because some coward insurgent hid in her house. Used her as a shield." Rankin sipped his coffee. "I've been more fuckin' remorseful than most people have. I've never been knowingly complicit in abusing dozens of adolescents, though." He patted the thick pepper-spray canister on his belt. "You ever been sprayed by this stuff, doctor?"

"No..." A wary look. "Why?"

"How many of those kids out there have not_experienced it in their stay here?" The leopard shook his head. "At most half of them? That's just not okay. It's not _normal. It's freakin' crazy, and I can't imagine the public would approve of this. Where the hell are the government inspectors?"

Suddenly, Doctor Thornton gave a derisive laugh. "We're a private residential treatment facility. Why would there be any?"

"That can't be right."

"But it is. Honestly, our industry is relatively unknown. We're as ghosts, here."

"Christ above."

"Is he, really?"

They sat in silence for a moment, just drinking their beverages.

"What were you doing in the security room?" Thornton asked suddenly. "After you took that... coyote to the interview room. I saw you go in there."

Karl eyed his unlikely companion. "I wasn't convinced that John and the others need to know what they said. So I glitched the recording. Use your eyes, man; that little boy is on the verge of collapse, and all I see is more and more furs lining up to keep pushing him to the edge."

"... No. I agree." Thornton nodded. "I can't leave. I've... fucked up once, to use the vernacular. I won't let it happen again."

The leopard shrugged. "I suppose it's the same here. I don't know if I can turn my back on this, now I know it's happening." He glanced over at the door. "But I don't know if I can help either. I don't think a lot of these kids' parents really know what's going on here. Some of them probably wouldn't care; and that's the problem. We can't change anything here. There's gotta be something wrong for this insanity to happen. This sort of craziness is just a symptom."

Thornton clenched his eyes shut for a moment, then swore bitterly.

"I know," Karl muttered. "That's no reason to turn away."

For a moment, they both fell silent. Out of the corner of his eyes, Karl could see the psychiatrist clutching his coffee mug tightly. Almost brutally.

"We..." the ferret muttered, his tone oddly weak. "We're their last chance. W-when the courts are too soft... and the parents can't control them, the social workers.... It's-"

Karl shook his head slowly. "No, doc. C'mon." He sighed. "Most of these kids have barely done anything wrong. Have you tried talking to any of them? Do you know any of them, or where they came from? Most of them wouldn't be here if there parents hadn't sent them. And even if you're right, how can you see the things that happen here, the things they make these kids say, the evening drills, the restraints, the humiliation tactics, and not think to yourself that there has to be a better way? That there is a better way."

Thornton blinked rapidly. His ears flattened straight back. In a tiny voice, he whispered into his mug.

Though Karl did not hear a word.

The coffee cup in his paws was shaking slightly. To his unfocused eyes, a tiny, brown lake, the surface quivering with tiny ripples. It took a few moments for him to realize it was his paws that were doing the shaking.

"Are you okay, Gary?" Jared's voice asked concernedly.

"Huh?" The cheetah blinked, looking up. "Oh, yeah."

The serval's house was smaller than his. In the cozy den in which they sat, the heavy curtains were pulled and the dismal sunlight outside eschewed in favor of a warm lamp in the corner by an entertainment system that rivaled Gary's own.

Gary scratched at his ear. "I don't want to come across as a psycho, you know." He chortled. "I don't want to lay all this on you or anything."

"It's fine." Jared grinned. "Just about everyone I've met had a sob story. I was a lucky one; my mom wasn't even surprised. Said she knew when I was ten or so."

"Sounds about right," Gary muttered. "You usually don't know how to hide it all that well then. Are you really sure you want to hear this crap? I mean-"

"Gary, if there's one thing I hate, it's when someone starts a story and doesn't finish." The serval affected a disapproving expression. "Don't make me spank you."

The cheetah had to laugh. "Alright." He thought for a moment. "Like I said, these two guys moved in next door when I was about sixteen. They were really cool, and I kind of liked hanging out with them. It was pretty obvious to me that they were a couple, but it took my dad a little longer to click - you know, I think he partly didn't believe 'fags' were real or that he'd ever meet any. They were just this vague thing that he hated, a concept or political issue. Not people." Gary shrugged. "He went nuts. Screamed abuse at them. We think he even vandalized their mailbox. Spread lies about them at the local Parents and Teachers council, at the town hall. I dunno for sure, but I think he stopped short of actually sending them death-threats."

Jared's eyes had gone wide. "Fuck, whoa! That's crazy!"

"I liked the guys... a bob-cat and lynx." Gary sighed. "I used to talk with them after school. Dad really didn't like that, but he didn't even talk to me about it. Guess that was kinda good. One day, I went over there for a barbecue, a few months away from my seventeenth birthday. There were people from all over the neighborhood there. My dad found out where I was and he decided to confront them over it."

"You mean he went next door and screamed like a madman, right?"

"Oh yeah." Gary shivered. "I never felt so fucking embarrassed in my life. Half the neighbors were there, and I was the youngest. This little gangly teenager invited to a neighborhood barbecue for adults. There were people drinking beer and wine, and I was happy just to be sitting there with a lemonade. We were just talking and eating hot-dogs, that's all. Then this asshole comes along and starts screaming. He would've started a fight if one of the guests didn't tell him he was carrying and would shoot. That sucked the wind out of his sail, but it didn't stop him totally.

"I wanted to die. You know what I mean? Everything he said... I wish I was braver, then I could've stood up to him. I would've come out that day, just to stop him. Told him, 'hey all this stuff you're saying, you're saying about me too and I definitely didn't choose it'. Maybe things would've been different..."

Jared shook his head. "With a dad like that, I don't think you should've come out at all, Gary. I've heard what parents like that do. If you're lucky, he would've just said you were stupid and didn't know what you were talking about."

"If I was unlucky, could've got a midnight ticket to a lovely ranch somewhere," Gary growled acidly. A flash of anger seared the back of his mind, as he thought momentarily about Wilder Springs. "I know."

The serval nodded bleakly. "Yeah. You know about those, huh? So what happened next?"

"My dad was insane. He told me to go home and I was pretty sure if I didn't, he'd grab me and try to pull me along. I was seriously afraid he would attack me." Gary licked his lips, staring down at his coffee again. "So I just ran. Like a fucking child."

"I would've done that too, Gary."

"Y-yeah. A few days later, I came back from school and saw a removal van out the front of their house. I freaked out. I tried to ask them not to leave, but they told me they just couldn't stay." A knot formed in his chest. "I got so angry. They could just pack up and leave, but I had to stay and deal with it. I couldn't just leave. I knew I couldn't ask to go with them, but I really wanted to. I just wanted to go, to get the hell away, but I was stuck i-in this house... I knew I wasn't being fair to them. They were gone by the end of the day."

Jared shook his head sadly. "Oh my God..."

"Cried the entire night; had to skip school the next day and crash at a friend's place. Of course, I got in trouble for it. I was lazy and stupid, I didn't have a good reason for truanting, no. That's impossible. I really wanted to get myself back to school and be a diligent student after that." Gary sipped from his cup. "High school teachers are just the stupidest breed of people."

"I don't know about that. They got some stiff competition." Jared looked thoughtful. "Is this when you moved away?"

"Yeah."

"You weren't seventeen yet... So..."

Gary nodded. "Yep. I'm a high school dropout." He sipped from his coffee. "I couldn't take it. Exams, my dad, dickheads at school, and now this. My grades weren't bad, but the teachers treated me like scum if I missed a single period. They didn't even try to be understanding, let alone respectful, or helpful. But really, I just wanted out of there and I couldn't do it as a student. I started looking for a job. Applied for almost a hundred. I had to resort to pleading for a chance to prove myself, et cetera, but I got one at last."

"Your parents mind that you dropped out?"

"Hell yes. I got screamed at for hours. The usual spiel about my life being over if I didn't do what they thought I should do. Of course, I couldn't tell them why I did it, and they didn't back off for a second. Mostly it was my dad; he did most of the threatening and screaming. So I cracked and said they can either leave me alone or kick me out, because I was going to leave anyway." The cheetah shook his head. "Funny how bad parents use the threat of kicking you out in order to get you to do something because 'they care'. If you cared, you wouldn't be threatening that shit unless I was hurting the family. I'd never really had big clashes like that before with them."

"Did they kick you out?"

"I think they realized something was wrong and backed off. I think the fact I told them I was fully intent on leaving them forever had them surprised. I guess, to them, it came out of nowhere. I had enough time to get a job in another town and work out a place to live - never did anything like it before, but I was pretty dead-set on getting out of there. I promised to send back a portion of my wages to pay for the car they bought me and I was out of this town maybe a week later." Gary shrugged. "In a few weeks, this dropout kitty was working two jobs and teaching himself three programming languages."

"Damn... Nice!" Jared laughed.

Gary smiled. "Thanks. And now I make twice as much as the teacher that told me I'd be flipping burgers." He chuckled somewhat vindictively. "It was kinda hard-going for awhile, but I was doing it. All on my own, too. Then my mom called me one day, about three years later, told me that my dad had a stroke and was in hospital." Gary shrugged coldly. "I couldn't believe how much I didn't give a shit. I snubbed them totally. I let him know that I absolutely wasn't coming back to see him, even though I lived only a few hours' drive away. Mom begged and begged..."

"Gary..."

"I finally told her, and told her to tell him." The cheetah closed his eyes. "I wanted him to know that I hated him for what he did, how much he had made me afraid to be myself. I guess I also wanted him to die knowing that I was gay and he wasn't going to have any grandkids." He looked the serval in the eyes. "I'm not proud of what I did... mom told me he was sorry. I didn't ever find out if that was true; and when another stroke finished him off, I said I wouldn't show up to the funeral even if they had the best brownies on the planet. I said I would put aside the night for a party, and I fuckin' did."

"I don't know if I can blame you for that, Gary..." Jared rubbed at his eyes. "Christ, you're making me realize just how lucky I was."

"I don't think I had it that bad," murmured Gary. "Somebody recently told me what it's really like to have a hard childhood.

"I started to calm down a few months later and I realized I'd just completely cut out my mom because of what my dad did. She... was the pillar that kept me sane when I was a kid. I loved her and had nothing against her, but our relationship was just fucked by all of this. I was too angry to pay attention to what I put her through. Husband dead, kid didn't give a damn. It was just hard to separate her from the guy that made my life a misery. Harder than it should be." The cheetah took a deep breath. "I w-was gonna get in contact with her, start making amends and all that. I got a call at work. She had died of a heart-attack."

Jared gawped at him.

Gary simply shook his head sadly. "I completely crashed. I just melted down, man. I found out that the house and their savings had been left to me, even though I had acted like a complete dick. Used my savings to pay for everything, quit my job and came back here. I paid for the best funeral I could afford and invited everyone I could." He sniffed. "I could see in their eyes what they thought of me, the ones that had been closer to my mom. They had never been told why I did what I did, I guess. She wouldn't have told them much. Not that I had much of an excuse. But my parents had never told them why I left; I still wonder if they'd been in denial about me until the days they died."

A paw had seized his. Gary looked down in surprise, just in time to see Jared's golden-furred fingers squeeze his. "You shouldn't blame yourself..." Jared insisted. "Nobody's going to be thinking straight after living with a father like that for seventeen years."

"I know... but I do anyway." Gary smiled. "Thanks for inviting me around today, man, and thanks for listening."

"No problem! I did ask, remember?" The serval scooted closer. Still holding that paw. It felt so unnerving to Gary, but at the same time somehow comforting. "Look, what do you say we go get something to eat?"

"Sure, yeah. Yeah. I think I need something."

Jared smirked. "The office is still closed... Got anything you have to do tomorrow?"

Gary blushed. "Not really..."

"Well. Feel like going out tonight?" The serval grinned cheekily. "You're welcome to stay the night here if you like. I owe you."

"You know, that sounds pretty good..." Gary wiped at an eye. "Thanks, Jared..."

"Hey, keep that up and I might decide to make you pay for dinner." The serval smiled playfully. "Come on. I've got a great place in mind. Let's get a real smile on that face of yours, hun."

That sounded like a good idea, Gary had to admit.

*

December 3rd

It was the first clear morning in days. Czejak was grateful for that as he skillfully brought his car to a halt within the boundary of his usual parking spot. Pausing only to wipe ineffectually at the driver's side window with a sleeve, trying to clear the fogged glass, the coyote picked up his briefcase and shimmied out of his sedan to the street by his clinic.

Immediately the chill made him regret that action.

The air was crisply cold, and tiny droplets of condensation had formed all over his silver car's body. The sun was up, though its glow was oddly wan, so far away on this winter's morning.

At least it wasn't raining, though.

Clutching his briefcase in one paw, and his hot morning coffee in the other, Czejak hurried to the clinic's door. Stopping only to place his briefcase down and fumble for his keys, he pushed the door open and rushed inside.

With a great sigh of relief, the coyote realized the lights and heater were already on. An irrepressible smile formed on his muzzle and he strode into the reception room.

"Morning, Karen!" he called, spying the lapin at the desk. "It's darn cold out there."

Karen waved a paw at him warningly, then put a finger to her muzzle. "Shh." She broke into a grin herself before pointing to Czejak's right.

Bewildered, the coyote looked over.

A small form was huddled into the far corner, to the right of the door. Upon the farthest waiting room chair it sat, leaning against the plastered wall and swaddled in two heavy, winter jackets. Fast asleep.

Czejak recognized the snoozing clouded leopard immediately. "When?" he whispered, a pleasant warmth settling into his chest.

"When I got here. He was camped out across the street." Karen stood and reached for the thermostat. "He wanted to come in."

The coyote shook his head slowly. "Karen... he was in the city. It would've taken him all day to get here. Eight hours maybe, if he was walking. Probably longer."

"Did you give him the address or something?"

"I gave him a contact card. I didn't think he'd..." Czejak couldn't stop an incredulous laugh. "I wasn't even sure he'd be able to read it. And he was okay with you? Wasn't nervous or anything?"

"He seemed to be." Karen shrugged. "He was pretty exhausted though. Oh, I'm sorry. I wasn't able to pick up coffee this morning. I didn't want to leave him alone in the office."

"I can handle that. Thank you, Karen." Czejak raised an eyebrow. "He looks comfortable. I'm surprised he can sleep like that. Here, of all places."

"He didn't want to fall asleep at first." Karen smiled dreamily. "Took him maybe ten minutes to change his mind. I gave him that jacket and left him alone."

"Alright. Well, I suppose we can let him sleep." The coyote shrugged. "What does my schedule look like today, then?"

"There's not very much to do, Andrei." Karen glanced down at her organizer. "You're pretty much just doing paperwork today, apparently."

"I think I might have something else to do." The therapist was unable to keep a grin away. "I'll go get the coffee today, Karen. Let's try to let him rest; I don't want to wake him up."

There was a soft rustling sound from the corner. "Too late..."

Czejak looked around. "Oh, sorry Chase!" He beamed at the teenager. "I guess you heard me come in, then?"

The leopard smirked slightly. "Yeah. I wake up pretty easy." Slowly, he stretched upwards, his muzzle splitting into a yawn. "Ugh."

"I didn't think you'd come here." Czejak frowned. "At least not so soon. Did you catch a ride or anything?"

Chase shook his head, clutching the jacket a little tighter to him, getting comfortable. "Nah," he said, slipping a paw out from under the jacket and scratching his nose. "I thought about taking a cab an' doin' a runner, but none of the cabs I saw stopped for me."

"So you walked? The whole way?"

"Don't got anything better to do." With a sigh, Chase got to his feet and put aside the jacket. Czejak took the opportunity to appraise him once more.

The teen was, as he had noticed before, not very large for his age. He was slender and short for his fourteen years. Very lean, if not downright skinny, the young clouded leopard's fur was matted and dirty, and he wore an old blue t-shirt that was too large for him, holey tracksuit pants of an off-gray color and ratty tennis shoes. His headfur was stringy and dirty, just as it had been when they first met.

Chase had been out on his own for some time since he left his friends, and it showed.

Regardless, he shot the coyote a friendly smile. "So I thought I'd drop in on ya."

"That's fine by me, Chase. Well, have you eaten anything today?"

"Nah."

"Well, let's see what we can do about that. I skipped breakfast myself. Let's go talk for a bit in my office, and we'll sort out food." Czejak nodded at the door. "Anything you feel like having?"

Chase looked flustered for a moment, and his paw went absently to his belly. "Uh... I really don't care, hey. I'll eat anything right now."

"There's a pizza place down the road." Karen smiled slightly. "I can pop out for a moment and get something for everyone - and the coffee."

"You know what? I think that sounds pretty good." Czejak grinned at his latest 'client'. "What do you think?"

Chase just gave an abashed snort and nodded. He thought for a second. "Uh..." he began. "Are you-?" he asked uncertainly. "Uh. C-can I maybe stay here? Just until, like, uh, it stops raining?"

Czejak chortled gently. "Don't worry, Chase. It'll be fine; but we can talk about it when we're not both so starving."

The teenager nodded, a look of solemn contemplation on his face. Then that wry, cheeky smirk returned. "Pfft, I'm used to it. Hey, do they do, like, just cheese pizzas?"

Karl sighed and stared wryly at the piece of paper he held loosely in a big paw. His handwriting was as atrocious as he remembered it. He had always promised himself he'd get around to fixing, but if he was honest with himself it was probably never going to happen.

So he shrugged and walked into the staff's break room. A small, linoleum floored chamber with a circular table and comfortable chairs. A microwave, small fridge and an aged coffee machine sat on a counter-top by an open window, and a bushy-tailed possum stood there, humming contentedly to himself. A temporary chill washed through Karl's spine, though he wasn't sure why.

Just something about how nonchalant and smug the bastard seemed...

"Mister Wadlow?" he asked softly.

The opossum turned slightly and smiled, holding a cup of what smelled like hot chocolate to Karl. "Oh, good morning!" replied the counselor. "Please, it's Kevin."

"Alright, Kevin." Karl forced himself to chuckle. "I've, uh, got an idea. I'd like to see what you think."

The leopard handed over the piece of paper

Wadlow squinted at the scarcely intelligible scrawling. "What's this?"

"I'd like to take Nick and Garret aside tonight and put them through a few exercises." Karl paused, letting the counselor work his way through each individual bullet-point on the slip of paper. "I noticed both of them are, well, struggling to even get to par at the evening exercise drills."

"Hrm." Wadlow looked up at him, his expression neutral. But Karl wasn't stupid. "We don't usually do anything like that."

"I'm not going to go easy on them," he assured the opossum. "Take a look there. I'm just going to try to kick them into gear. We're going through what I've got written there at least three times."

Wadlow pretended he had managed to read the spidery scribble and nodded slowly. "And you want to do this tonight?"

"Yeah. I'll take them aside during the EEDs and supervise them myself." Karl smiled slightly.

Again, the counselor lifted the paper and frowned at it. "... Gosh," he muttered to himself. "This looks nasty. My old body couldn't take it, that's for sure."

"Well, goin' easy on them won't help anybody." The leopard shrugged. "I have a friend who's a former physical training instructor in the Marine Corps. He taught me a lot. Give me a few weeks with those two and they'll... you know, be a lot better off."

Wadlow thought for a moment. "Well, it's up to Alex, technically."

"I know, but they're in your house. Group. Whatever it is. I'm not quite sure what goes on with that stuff."

Wadlow smiled indulgently. "Well, I'll run this by Alex and tell you before afternoon."

"Alright." Karl really wanted to punch that smile for some reason. And his own. He had realized at the last second that if the other staff discovered his real intentions, they might object - despite how twisted and cruel such objection would be.

"Okidokie!" The opossum raised his hot chocolate and sipped. "On that topic, I have to get going soon. I'll let you know after lunch."

With that, the counselor walked out of the small room.

Karl sighed again and slipped into one of the seats. "Christ..." he muttered bitterly, rubbing his eyes.

All night he had been up, worrying about those two kids. Worrying about all of them. This was the absolute best he could come up with as a means of helping them without risking anything.

This was all he could do. That was damn depressing.

The familiar sound of humming computers and quiet conversation had melted into the background as Gary, for the first time in ages, found himself absorbed by his work - in the groove, programming with an easy skill born of experience and hours of self-directed practice.

Despite the trials to come, just knowing he had made his decision brought a powerful tranquility to him, allowing him to focus. A warm layer of contentedness was draped over that grave focus, though. Recent events had made him very happy indeed, and the sheer joy of self-acceptance subtly pervaded almost every moment.

For once, he was doing a project that was somewhat fun, too. It allowed him to experiment with a few of the new elements he had been learning, and he hoped it would make the finished product well-ahead of the current mainstream offerings. Though that wouldn't last very long, of course, but their clients would be impressed nonetheless.

Curiously, Jared had BCC'd him an email sent to their team-leader - whom Gary wondered if he'd be replacing anytime soon - saying he would be in later that day for personal reasons. Far from worrying the cheetah, Gary felt elated that Jared had thought to tell him.

It was only when he realized it was midday that he decided to take a break and stretch his legs. He stood, grabbed his jacket and informed Randall that he was darting across the road for a coffee.

Naturally, it was snowing outside. Lightly, with small freckles of brilliant white drifting to the cottony layer already on the ground. The sky was leaden and the street bathed in a cool twilight, but Gary found that appealing for some reason.

He didn't dawdle at the café, taking his cappuccino and sandwich straight back to the office, eager to get on with things. Just as he settled back into his chair, his phone started to ring in his pocket.

"Shit," Gary mumbled to himself, muzzle full of roast beef. He placed his sandwich down on his table and fished around in the pocket of his black business pants for his phone. Glancing at the number on the device's screen, he couldn't help but smile. He had expected this call. He pressed it to his hear. "Hello?"

"Hullo, Gary!" Czejak's voice piped. "Is this a bad time?"

"Not at all." Gary swallowed the half-chewed meat and bread. "What's up?"

"Well, I need to talk to you. Tonight, if possible, since we don't have that much time."

Gary blinked, reaching for his coffee. "I suppose so. Is something wrong?"

"Not precisely, no. I was thinking, if you'd like, you can impose on my hospitality this time. The clinic is technically still closed, and my secretary has only just got back. You know, I feared I was going to lose her. She's well on her way to greener pastures, I think." The psychologist sighed ruefully.

"Oh, I doubt she's all that anxious to leave you, doc." Gary sipped at his chocolaty cappuccino. It tasted especially good today. "I finish work at five today, and it will take me an hour or so drive down there."

"I know, Gary, and I fully understand if you can't make it today."

"I can make it, I suppose. It's about Nick, obviously, right?"

"Of course. Like I said, it's somewhat urgent, but not critical that you come today."

"I'll be there."

"You're sounding quite chipper today, Gary. Had a good night's sleep or something?" The doc's voice was amused.

Laughing, Gary sat back in his chair, reclining as far as he could. "Ahh, you might say that."

"Well, I think I'll let you go. I feel a little tired myself and I could do with a coffee."

Gary lifted his own to his muzzle again. "Mmh," he grunted, taking another sip. "I could tell just from the way you said hello, you know."

"Am I that transparent?" mumbled the coyote. "Why is everyone picking on me nowadays?"

"You always overcompensate for it when you're feeling tired," Gary teased some more. "Tone it down a little! I'll see you at six or seven, doc."

"Alright, Gary. Thank you. Bye!"

"Bye!" Gary canceled the call, stuffed his phone away and practically lunged for his sandwich. "C'mere, you."

Even after he had devoured the roast-beef sandwich and every drop of the coffee, time still flew. Gary pressed on with his project.

That calm, steely determination had settled into his heart, and he embraced it happily. Gratefully.

Today was a good day.

Warily, Nick followed along behind the older wolf, who in turn followed the thickly muscled leopard guard as they made their way around the main building, bitumen crunching under their worn trainers. They had been singled out, and that never meant anything good.

This guard did seem different to the others, but he was still a staff member. Still an adult.

Why had he and Garret been taken out of the line and told to follow the guy? Punishment exercises? Nick was surprised they had let him out of seclusion so soon; there had to be a catch.

But when they rounded the side of the brick building the orderly called a halt. When he turned around, he was smiling.

"Alright guys," he said, his voice a smooth baritone. "Stop lookin' at me like that, because all we're going to do is just something different, that's all."

Neither of the boys trusted themselves to speak. Nick shuffled forwards slightly, staring down at the featureless, cold gravel. He knew he was expected to stand in line next to the other boy, but he really didn't feel like it. Hopefully, the leopard wouldn't insist Nick act the way the others wanted him to.

"Okay." The guard clapped his paws. "You guys have been struggling with the evening drills. I managed to get the others to leave you alone for a little while so I can help you out." Nick frowned to himself. "You don't have to do this. If you like, you can turn around and head back to the others."

Now that was just fuckin' stupid. Nick knew for a fact the other counselors would tear him and Garret a new one if they turned around now.

"You're not going to like me after this," the leopard warned. "For about two days or so anyway. My goal is to make these evening drills total jokes for you. Okay? The others don't want me doing that."

That took several moments to sink in. Nick looked up with a quizzical scowl for just a moment. "What?" he demanded.

The guard shrugged. "The EEDs aren't about making you guys strong or building muscle. You know that, right? It might keep your fitness levels up, but that's not what they're all about. You guys cop it worse than the others; you're like walkin' matchsticks. I'm going to do something about it."

"But why would they not want that?" Garret murmured. Unsure if he was even allowed to speak.

The adult treated them to a dark chuckle. "C'mon, you know why. Think about it." He coughed, clearing his tree-trunk of a throat. "My name's Karl. Call me Mister Rankin if the others are around. I don't give a damn either way."

Karl paced a few yards away, staring thoughtfully at the bitumen. Nick merely watched him, warily curious. Around the side of the building as they were, away from the courtyard where the EEDs were usually held, it was much darker; all they had was some residual light from the gloomy sky and a few small external lights. "Alright. Like I said, this isn't going to be easy, but trust me on this. It ain't gonna be as bad as what everyone else is doing." He frowned at Nick's bandaged wrist. "Shit, I forgot about that. How badly sprained is it, Nick? Do you think you can do pushups?"

After a confused pause, Nick raised his right paw and flexed it. "I guess." Not that he wanted to do any fuckin' pushups...

"Right." He nodded at Garret. "How many pushups can you do in a row?"

The wolf swallowed. "I-I don't- I dunno. I got to fifteen last night."

Karl nodded. "Alright. Nick?"

Nick mentally shrugged. Whatever. "I dunno. Twenty five, I guess."

"Better. Pretty good, in fact. You should be able to do more after a year though. I think, anyway. Never had to train anyone your age." Karl chuckled. "You're going to be doing a lot more than that tonight guys. Here's how we do it. Going to push you boys a bit, but I'm pretty sure you can do this, just keep at it. Nick will do fifteen, take a break, then twelve, then take a break, then ten. Garret's gonna do ten, eight and six. But you're not resting during those breaks. Head to that wall, sprint from there to the edge of the court, touch the ground then back to the wall. It won't be too bad; I won't be timing ya."

Garret shot his younger friend an apprehensive look.

"Don't worry. The hard part is the pushups. I don't care if you jog during the breaks, just whatever. Let your arms rest a bit but keep your blood going." Karl grinned happily, enjoying himself. "This is gonna be fun, boys. Oh, and we're doin' this three times."

Garret's jaw dropped. Nick froze.

"You'll be shocked what you can squeeze out, Garret, and this is how you're meant to do it. So, with ten, eight, six for Garret, and fifteen, twelve, ten for Nick, that's..." Karl frowned for a moment, attempting to compute the number.

Nick shifted on his paws. "Seventy-two," he grunted. "An' a hundred-eleven." He swayed slightly, processing the number he had just come up with.

Fuck... a hundred, in one night? Was the guy insane? Could they even do this?

After a moment, he realized he was being stared at. Both Garret and the adult were eyeing him strangely. "What?"

"That's pretty good, Nick, where did you learn to do that?" Karl asked, his eyes slightly wide. "I can't add that quickly."

Nick just shrugged. "I dunno."

"Huh. That's really good. Okay, one last thing. If you fail a set, you do twice as many, but from your knees. It's easier, relax. Trust me, you can do this." The guard paused, looking at the youths clad in nothing but shorts, colored t-shirts and heavily scuffed running shoes. "Yeah, if it comes to that, I'll put my jacket under your legs. Don't need them getting cut up. Nick, if you wrist starts to feel sore, tell me and stop. We'll do something else. Alright? We ready?"

Garret raised an arm. Karl just nodded at him. "Uh... is that all we're doing? Just pushups and jogging?"

"Nope. But it's a start. Come on. Let's warm up."

The grownup led them through a mild warm up. Some simple, basic stretches that both boys were familiar with by now.

Nick realized almost immediately that this evening's drill would be very different. He had been through so many punishment drills that it felt strangely pleasant and novel to just be in a small group without the pressure. Although he had no idea how he was going to manage over a hundred pushups.

Karl had them jog from the wall to the edge of the court several times, admonishing them to raise their knees and shake out their arms. The pair of them complied without complaint, as the evening wind started to pick up.

After only a few moments, the leopard clapped his paws again.

"Alright! One's doing the pushups, other's doing the running. Jogging. Skipping, whatever. Doesn't really matter. Just try to have some fun and stay moving." Karl nodded at Nick. "Okay, you first, Nick. You can do a lot more."

The cheetah cursed mentally and squatted down. With a grunt, he kicked his legs out behind him and waited for the count. Behind him, he heard Garret jog from wall to grass at only a slightly quicker pace than they had been doing before - at least he had learned to pace himself now. The leopard counted him through his first fifteen slowly and steadily.

Nick gritted his teeth and pushed up firmly on the final one. Karl rushed him and Garret to swap places...

They continued until the sun was below the horizon and the sky darkened, a process that did not take very long. Though each set increased the hot numbness in his arms, Nick found them entirely possible. The respites of a mere minute or two seemed to be enough for him to get strength back into his muscles.

By the fifth set, his arms were shaking, a familiar heat settling deep within them. But they still listened when he asked them to push. He slowly, painfully raised himself up for the twelfth and staggered to his foot-paws as Garret came over to take his place, panting.

Sixty-four. Part of him could barely believe it.

Nick realized he could probably fight. Tell this guy to fuck off and do nothing. Something told him 'Karl' wouldn't spray him or hurt him. But he didn't want to. He panted softly to himself as he dashed between the building and the edge of the bitumen, back and forth, focusing on the task.

The guy said he was trying to make them stronger. Make the evening exercises a 'joke' for them. That had always been something that pissed Nick off. He was so weak and small, and every evening in this place just reminded him of that. Everyone could see how pathetic he was.

... It was because he was so weak that others hurt him. So scared and stupid. He wanted so much to change it. To change himself.

Maybe Wilder Springs could do that for him after all.

He faltered, then shook his head vigorously. Banishing the train of thought as best he could.

"Come on, Garret, you can do it." Karl paced back and forth just by the wolf's side.

Nick glanced over, slowing considerably as he appraised the grownup once more. There was something strange about the thickly built leopard. Something familiar too - his surprisingly gentle and respectful tone reminded Nick of Gary.

It was an attitude Nick hadn't seen very often. Not from an authority figure. Not from an adult.

A stab of bitterness seemed to penetrate his chest, and Nick tried to shake it all away again. He refocused on his jogging. He didn't want to think about that yet. Not now.

Maybe not ever.

Moments later, a grunt of exertion caught the kit's attention, and he looked over to see Garret painfully haul himself upright with trembling arms. The wolf turned and grinned at Nick, jogging over to take his place.

"Well done, Garret! Come on guys, you can do this!" Karl was grinning too.

The teenaged wolf actually laughed aloud, running to the wall of the main building and deliberately crashing into it shoulder first. Gasping exaggeratedly, he pushed off of it and started to run, his head and arms flopping limply around. "Oh, fuck, man."

Nick felt a smile on his own features then.

Ridiculous though it was... Nick realized this was sort of fun. It made all the difference in the world, having Karl in charge instead of the dickhead fox guy. Just him and Garret, who wasn't an asshole to him. Or anyone, it seemed.

The cheetah jogged over to the muscular orderly and slowly lowered himself into the plank position. His arms still shook and the fire in his muscles had dimmed little.

But for some reason, he knew he could do this. Shit, he wanted to do it, and he wasn't even sure why.

It was even a little bit fun.

"Ready Nick? Come on. One-!"

"Alright," the cheetah boy whispered to himself, locking his arms. He scowled at the floor and winced as pain jolted through his bandaged wrist. He shook the offending arm out for a second.

Tonight, he was gonna do one-hundred fuckin' pushups.

It was time to go home. In fact, at almost six in the evening, he had racked up a little overtime. Gary drummed on his desk with one paw, waiting patiently for the fruits of his labor to compile so he could give it a quick test run.

After all, whatever he finished tonight while he was in the zone was nonsense he wouldn't need to bother with in the morning.

He hadn't been drumming for very long when he heard activity behind him, and a familiar, youthful voice.

Curiously, the cheetah glanced over his shoulder and smiled. Jared had slinked into the office, his black coat dusted with fine snow. The serval returned the smile, but quickly went over to talk to Randall.

Gary felt a chill. There was something wrong about that smile. Something was wrong.

Though he strained to listen from his workstation, Gary heard nothing of the hushed conversation on the other side of the room. He didn't dare attempt to get closer, or turn around and look.

He forced himself back onto his task. It probably was nothing. He hoped it was nothing, anyway. Life was getting complicated enough as it was.

But only a few moments later, Gary heard soft steps coming his way. He turned around and looked straight up at Jared's sad face.

The serval smiled wanly. "Hey, Gary."

"Hey." Gary swallowed. "What's up?"

"Um, yeah. I've gotta tell you something. D'you mind?" He nodded in the direction of the back room, a small antechamber where office supplies were stored and where there was a backdoor to the service alley outside, used almost exclusively by the smokers in the office.

"Y-yeah, one second." Gary glanced at his monitor. The compiling process was almost finished, but it still had several minutes to go. He stood. "Let's go."

To his surprise, Jared led them straight to the heavy, wooden door in that small room and tugged it open. Together, they stepped out into the deserted alleyway and into the gently falling snow.

"What's wrong?" Gary asked the moment the door closed.

Jared stepped away from the wall, that sad smile still on his muzzle. "Gary, uh. Okay. My mom's just been diagnosed with cancer. Lung cancer."

"Oh." Gary's eyes widened. "Oh my god."

The serval sniffed then, wiping at his nose. Gary suddenly realized just how red the younger feline's eyes were, and how wet his nose was. "She's not got long, the doctors say. They actually told me a few days ago. I should've told you about this, but..."

"You have to go to her." Gary nodded. "I-I know."

Jared nodded. "I'm sorry. I can't just... I've got to go, Gary. I don't know for how long, but I've gotta head down there. I might never see her again."

Gary just nodded again, dumbly.

"I should've told you earlier, but I didn't know." Jared looked down at the floor. "I just want you to know that I'm... It's not because of you, or anything like that. I'll be back. If, you know..."

"Yeah." Gary held his breath a moment. "It's alright. I can wait."

"You shouldn't have to... I'm so sorry." They stared at one another for a moment, before Jared stepped forward with a liquid grace, wrapping surprisingly strong arms around Gary's slender torso.

Then he kissed him. Quite fiercely.

A moment later, the serval pulled away slowly, his golden eyes still on Gary's own. "I'm really sorry about this," he whispered.

"It's fine." Gary smiled slightly. "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow. I grabbed the first flight I could." The serval's ears perked slightly. "Uh, you know, you could stay at my place tonight?"

"I don't know, Jared..." Gary frowned slightly. "I definitely want to. I've got to do something. It's to do with... you know, my little guest. I won't be able to get there until late."

Jared nodded. "Yeah. That's okay. I need to get packed."

The cheetah shook his head slowly - although he was stunned, he realized he was sanguine. For now, at least. He knew what this meant. He was going to lose his first true partner, at least for a time.

But Jared had already helped so much.

"I'll be there at nine," Gary said firmly. "Ten at the latest. I promise."

The serval suddenly beamed. "I'll see you then."

"You will. I'm not letting you get away that easily."

With a hollow clunk and a gurgle, tepid water started to flow through the pipes behind the tiled walls, eventually spurting from the tiny, metal showerheads lined along the back of the shower room. It drizzled half-heartedly over the naked forms of a dozen exhausted, silent adolescents.

Nick flinched slightly as the lukewarm water started to wet his shoulders, but managed to keep his gaze directed at the slimy, moldy floor. Absently, he wriggled his bare paws, the feel of the wet tiling beneath slightly disturbing.

He hated the evening showers. The evening drills were for the lower levels only, which meant that they were always supervised by staff in the shower after, rather than the job of reporting misbehavior and such being given to level fours like it sometimes was in the mornings. He hated the morning showers even more, since sometimes the high levels could be total assholes, but Nick always swore he could feel the hard, suspicious glare of the orderlies and counselors on the back of his head, and that made him feel nervous.

The kit shuffled closer to the wall, self-consciously keeping his entire front side to it.

Nick used to enjoy showers. Alone or with his friends, they were alright. He wasn't all that worried about being dirty; it just felt good to relax and screw around in the water.

If the water was hot. Cold showers made him freak out - it was one way Nick knew of to pretty much guarantee one of those crazy attacks. Whatever they were called.

Here, it was different. Nick didn't dare look around - almost none of the teenage boys did. They'd be punished if one of the counselors decided they were sneaking peeks, and mercilessly humiliated for days afterwards. Talking was prohibited in the shower rooms, not that most of the lower levels could talk anyway.

Nick especially couldn't risk a glance, not even a cursory look at another one of the boys. That stupid mistake he made almost a year ago, telling his group that he thought he was gay, still made him want to die. So Nick had to be content with staring at the slimy, unclean tiles or his own pathetic body.

It was messed up. The counselors talked about inappropriate behavior, about how wrong it was, how dirty it was to look or even be interested in another boy, but then they made them all shower and change together - and they weren't supposed to even acknowledge it!

He sighed softly, rubbing under his armpits with nothing but a pawful of water. It was cold and he was shivering slightly. His small nipples were hard and numb already from the cool air already. There was little warmth in the water that sprayed over them so inadequately.

They had changed another thing now. The counselor had got them all to strip and put their clothes in a hamper, rather than allow them to take the clothes back to their rooms with them. Every boy had a change of clothes with them too, but this was clearly because they'd realized Nick wasn't putting his worn clothes in for laundry.

An unpleasant twisting sensation knotted up Nick's insides every time he remembered what the lynx had said to him.

Laundry was just not something Nick ever thought about. He didn't know that others could smell him; he didn't want to stink! But he had never done laundry before or anything like that, especially not when he lived with his friends in that messy little house - and they didn't ever give him laundry duty or anything here.

Chores that involved chemicals or equipment were never given to orange shirts, and they were never allowed to bathe with soap or conditioner. Nick wasn't sure if the stuff he used at Gary's place was allowed even for the level four girls in the other wing.

Fuck... It wasn't fair.

Or was it? Maybe Nick just didn't get it.

Maybe Daniel Lewis was right.

The bulky teen's words kept coming back to him, every night.

Nick pushed the matter from his head again, fully aware it would only return to haunt him after lights out. It all would.

Instead, for the moment, he looked down his slender, flat chest as he lazily attempted to scrub the sweat and dirt out of it without benefit of shampoo.

His diminutive furless member bounced slightly as he did so, catching his eye.

Fuck he hated his body.

Though he wouldn't dare look around, Nick knew what sort of equipment the other males to his left and right were sporting. Meanwhile, he was equipped with a joke.

He knew he wasn't a big kid. He could accept that. Shit, most of the younger teens at Wilder Springs weren't really all that big, but...

"Finish up!" called the fox counselor, clapping his hands. The percussion rang painfully throughout the tiled room. "Twenty seconds."

Nick quickly rubbed at his short head-fur, then tried to clean his face and tail off as best he could. As promised, the counselor shut off the water in only a few seconds and ordered the group to dry off and dress. As one, they turned and walked over to the changing benches, eyes still fearfully downcast.

The towels were damp, either fresh from the laundry or used earlier by the higher levels after their shower. Nick was pretty sure it was the latter, but he quietly started patting himself down, running on auto-pilot.

Tonight hadn't been too bad. The exercise the leopard had got him and Garret to do was nowhere near as painful and exhausting as usual, and that confused Nick a lot. He'd done a lot of pushups before, and one-hundred was a daunting number, one he never thought he'd reach. It was strange how the little breaks, doing only a few at a time, made it so much more manageable.

Wasn't a hundred in one night, well, a hundred? Why did it make such a difference?

Fifty pushups in a row was impossible for him, let alone a hundred, but it somehow was okay when he did them in little bits like that.

Sure, his arms and chest were a little sore, but he was used to that now. It wasn't as bad as it had been before.

Whatever. Mentally, the kit shrugged and bent down to towel off his ankles.

"Aaron!" snapped the fox counselor, Mister Kincaid, causing most of the assembled youths to flinch in surprise. "Get a move on!"

Nick glanced to the side briefly and saw a teenaged meerkat, probably no more than fifteen at the most, staring vaguely at the bench in front of him, holding his damp towel loosely in his paws.

"Aaron!!" There was a threat in the fox's voice, but Aaron seemed oblivious. The vulpine stepped closer aggressively and Nick closed his eyes briefly - if the teenager didn't reply, there would be violence.

But instead, the teenager staggered backwards, then crumpled to the floor. The two boys nearest drew away in shock, stepping back from the bench.

"Oh, for..." muttered the counselor, striding furiously over to the collapsed adolescent. He knelt down and shook the slender, naked shoulders.

Several of the nude youths exchanged worried looks. Nick felt a sickening little knot in his stomach, but he tore his gaze away.

Garret was standing beside him, staring at the unconscious meerkat. His towel held low over his crotch absently. When Nick glanced his way, their eyes met briefly.

Suddenly, Garret grinned.

Then he quite deliberately moved the towel in his paws to the side, shuffling around on the wet tiles to face Nick more directly.

Immediately Nick felt his chest seize and his jaw fell open slightly. Garret's grin became borderline malicious as he allowed the cheetah to look him over for a few moments.

Confused and embarrassed, Nick still couldn't help but grin right back. But a voice distracted him.

"What happened?" a young, mottled bob-cat dared to ask.

"I didn't say talk!" the counselor snapped at him.

The feline cringed away, clamping his jaw shut.

"Is he alright?" the liger guard asked. Nick had almost forgotten the silent, brutal bastard was there, lounging around the entrance to the shower room.

"Adolescents faint," Kincaid grumbled. "He'll be okay." The fox sighed in what seemed like extreme annoyance. Then he leveled a finger and an irate gaze at the terrified bob-cat. "You. Get your clothes on. Help me take him to the medical office. Move!"

While the feline rushed to put his tracksuit pants on, Kincaid gently slapped the fainted meerkat several times across the face. After the third blow he stirred, and the fox pulled him to his paws unceremoniously.

"Can you deal with them?" he asked the liger. "Just get them back to their dorms?"

"Yeah."

"Alright."

Nick glanced away again, looking over at Garret. The wolf teen had made no effort to cover himself, and was just watching the scene unfold with his paws by his side. Nick couldn't help himself, and he quickly looked the older boy over, flicking his eyes from the wolf's grey-furred paws to the matted white down of his flat chest, and of course the furless thing between his slender legs.

Again they shared a smile, though somewhat more nervously this time. Garret even stole his own glances, sending a wave of confusion crashing through the cheetah's mind in his wake.

"Alright!" The liger's voice was harsh and too loud for the tiled shower room. "Dry off and get dressed. Lights out is in twenty minutes. Get a move on, boys."

Nick almost jumped. Quickly he tore his eyes away from the teasing wolf.

With a perfunctory rub of his paws with his towel, Nick slipped into a fresh pair of white briefs and pulled his tracksuit pants up hastily. He didn't trust his dick to remain uncovered, not after what he'd just seen. Slipping into a clean, bright orange shirt, he picked up his shoes and waited for the others.

When they were dressed, the liger led them back to the corridor in single file. They followed him in silence, talking naturally forbidden. Behind them walked another counselor.

Nick had personally experienced what would happen if one of them spoke, or even looked away. Talking wasn't allowed, no kind of communication was. It was safest to just focus on the back of whoever's head was in front of you, he had discovered.

First, they were allowed to go to the bathrooms, where each stall was without a door and they had to do their business under the watchful eyes of the counselor. As humiliating as it was, necessity almost always prevailed over embarrassment. Then, one by one, the liger ordered the level ones into their rooms, locking them in with the stout deadbolts.

Nick was glad when they reached his own tiny room. He placed his shoes, socks stuffed inside, by the plain black flip-flops just outside his door and allowed the counselor to shut him in. The instant he heard the bolts slide into place, he staggered over to his cot, pulling his shirt off and removing his pants. His body was stiff, tired and cold. He wanted to curl up under his inadequate sheets and nothing else.

He had no doubts that sleep would be as elusive as always. He had much to think about.

Groaning, Nick collapsed onto the thin, foam mattress and pulled the sheets as tight to his neck as he could without messing them up too much - he would have to make it again in the morning if they looked too untidy.

"Hrr!" he chattered to himself, clutching at his pillow. He buried his muzzle in it, shutting his eyes and waiting for lights out.

Fuck it was cold tonight.

Why was the water in the shower always so cold? Why wouldn't they give them hot water? Like, real hot water?

The idea of just wearing his pants to bed came to him, but Nick reluctantly rejected it. It would solve the problem of the cold, but he didn't want to stink his clothes up. Other boys had pajamas, provided in the one tiny bag their parents had packed for them before having them taken here, or paid for later. Nick was stuck with just his underwear. They never bothered to buy any for him.

After a few moments, the light in his room winked out, plunging it into darkness. Nick actually felt himself relax - tension slowly easing away from his body and mind.

Every minute, every second he was surrounded by the others, his entire body crawled. He could never rest. Each night, when the lights went off and the door locked shut, Nick could forget momentarily about the counselors, the unpredictable teenagers and the smirking orderlies. Could forget about everything. He didn't have to worry that someone could be behind him, wanting to hurt him, or that he would make one small mistake and be punished for it. At least for a short time.

At least a little...

Part of him was always afraid of sleeping. He knew that. Part of him was also afraid of waking up...

The kit squeezed his pillow and shifted restlessly. After only a moment, his paw drifted south, pushing under waistband of his briefs - what he had seen in the showers shouldering its way to the forefront of his mind.

Nick didn't know why Garret did what he did. Or what it meant, if anything.

But he did know what he felt. Garret wasn't the only one, if Nick was honest, to catch his eye in the showers. But Garret was cool too and that made a huge difference. Nick liked him. The difference that made was huge. He could ignore or even hate the nude forms of the guys he hated, but -

Almost automatically, his paw closed around soft, warm flesh.

With a soft grunt, he shifted under the sheets and pushed his briefs down to his still damp thighs, rolling onto his back with his pillow pulled tight to his chest and head.

He hadn't done it for so long. He had just been too down, exhausted, and didn't really want to, but now, after what he had seen in the shower... It was like the urge to do it had just quietly built up and finally burst. Nick was sure he wouldn't be able to stop himself even if he tried. He would do it without even thinking about it. He was half sure he'd do it in his sleep.

The kit raised his hips slightly as he worked, breathing slowly and quietly.

It was like a lullaby of sensation, and he knew he'd need it this night.

With a contented sigh, Nick squirmed until he got comfortable. He started thinking. Remembering. Memories of warm bodies close to his. Gentle arms slipping around him. Strong arms, holding him close. Holding him like a storm-battered ship in the gentle waters of a protected cove. Taut muscles and soft fur against his own.

Chase. Garret. Gary...

As tiredness washed over him, the kit allowed his imagination to run free. Allowing all the good feelings to run through him. Comfort him like a gentle, tingling fire. What he would give for his dreams to become real.

Although he closed his eyes, sleep wouldn't come for some time - and hopefully neither would he. He had a lot of catching up to do.

The waiting room was exactly as Gary remembered it.

He'd been in the small clinic several times now, but the cool, dry room still made him feel very nervous. He could smell the freshly vacuumed carpet; could hear the incessant thrum of the fish tank up against the wall; could feel that numbing sense of dread that for once might be warranted.

It struck him as a little silly. The friendly lapin, Czejak's secretary, had let him in, but he still had to wait. Granted, he was a little early, but was it really fair to make him wait? Gary had driven almost two hours just because the doc had asked him to.

But he wasn't going to complain.

Instead, Gary crossed his legs, leaned back in a softly cushioned chair and contented himself watching goldfish feces twist and curl with perverse elegance.

Eventually, there was a shuffling sound and Czejak's office creaked open. The coyote looked blearily around the waiting room and smiled wanly at Gary. "Come on in, Gary," he said softly.

The cheetah stood and crossed the waiting room. "Are you okay, doc?"

"I suppose you were early..." Czejak coughed and adjusted the collar of the shirt he had beneath a mauve and orange sweater. His ears were drooping pathetically. "I took a nap, as you can tell." The coyote smiled at his concerned secretary. "It's alright, Karen. I'm fine now. Thank you."

"You be careful..." muttered the rabbit, brushing aside her long head-fur and floppy ears. Still watching her employer, she lifted her jacket up from the side of the reception desk, slipping her arms into the heavy garment's long sleeves. "I'm going to get some coffee. Alright?"

"That would be more than alright. Thank you so much." Czejak stood aside and waved Gary in. The waiting area door jangled as Karen slipped out on her vital mission. "Come on in, Gary. We've got a lot of talking to do."

As Gary sat in the spare leather chair just to the side of the coyote's neatly organized desk, he resolved to not say a word rather than risk patronizing the psychologist. He just waited for the exhausted canid to speak.

After a few moments, Czejak seemed to shake off his lethargy. "I'm really sorry about that, Gary," he said, sounding almost normal. He sat at his desk. "I hate to admit it, but I didn't sleep last night. Usually I'm out like a light once my head touches that pillow."

"I know how that feels." Gary straightened a little. "I don't get much sleep nowadays anyway, and they're talking about promoting me to a supervisory role at work. Not looking forward to it."

Czejak gave a curt nod. "It won't be fun." He tugged open a drawer and lifted out a thin stack of papers. "Gary, I called you down here to discuss what I hope you're still thinking of doing. I didn't want to continue imposing on you at your house - although that idea was obviously the product of a deranged, sleep-deprived mind. I forgot just how long the drive was."

"It's fine, doc. I was just brooding over recent events. A bit of distraction is exactly what I need right now." The cheetah grinned.

"Alright. Well, I don't know how distracting this will be, but I do need to discuss it with you." The coyote scribbled something on a leaf of paper with an ornate pen. Then he instantly set it aside and looked directly at his client. "Basically, Gary, I have a plan, but we need to discuss it before we set things in motion."

"Alright. Fire away."

Czejak thought for a moment. Framing his point. "Gary, Nick is unsure and scared. Not to mention a little angry too. Like you, I only think Nick should be taken back to your house - or any house, at the moment - with his own express permission, if possible. The truth is, he needs to be shown that you want him, and that you won't change your mind again. He needs to know you won't hurt him twice."

Gary wrung his paws absently. "Blunt enough."

"We need to get you to talk with him - and that means at Wilder Springs."

Gary blinked. "What? Are you sure?"

"Definitely. If you can't talk to him, Gary, he will be far less likely to ask to leave with you. Especially now. Talking to you face to face might be the only option, and I can't take him out of the facility again."

"So, you mean... next time you go up there, you want me to come too?" For some reason, the idea of seeing the place he had somehow vicariously come to hate brought a chill to a place deep in Gary's chest.

... What if he hated it less than he thought? What if it wasn't as bad as he had imagined?

Czejak actually laughed. "Oh, no, I can't think of a quicker way to shut him down that to spring this on him. He'll need at least a few days to think about it. Maybe a week, if we can afford that long."

"Wait a second," Gary said sharply. "If we can afford that long? 'Especially now'? Andrei, what's wrong?"

"I... well... Nick is extremely depressed, Gary." Czejak's voice was perfectly even. A statement of indubitable fact. "The longer he stays in that facility, the worse the damage is going to be. He'll give up, then he's going to accept every poisonous, self-destructive thing they tell him. I am going to get him out of there."

A heavy silence fell over the cozy interview room, and Gary just stared at his counselor. Asking a question they both knew, and already both knowing the answer somehow.

The coyote coughed. "If you can't persuade him to go with you," he said, "I won't insist you take him anyway. I will."

Gary continued to stare. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Wherever I can help, it's my responsibility to do so. I've sworn by that phrase for ten years, Gary, but you finally taught me to apply it properly." Czejak chuckled softly, though it slowly tapered off. After a moment, he cleared his throat and spoke again. "It is not the desirable outcome, though."

"I know. You've got many other kids that are relying on you, Andrei. I never really thought you should just... you know."

"There's more to it than that." The coyote sighed. "Listen, Gary, you have to understand. Nick needs a parent, but he also needs a counselor, needs a therapist. It's a totally different relationship."

"How do you mean?" Gary asked, frowning. "Wasn't I meant to, well, be a kind of therapist for him as well?"

Czejak shook his head. "Not exactly. A therapist isn't a friend and he or she certainly isn't a parent. My relationship with Nick will never be the same as yours, and I don't want it to be. When he talks with me, Nick wants to feel safe and to know that I will never abuse the information he gives me. It's a level of trust that can become extremely profound, Gary, and it simply doesn't work when I also have to fight with him over poor school grades, or when we've both had a bad day and we're feeling snarky at the dinner table. There's a deep trust, but also a degree of separation. Nick's able to tell me things that he simply will never want to tell you. I'm a third-party, a neutral voice with the good of all in mind, and my clients have to know that I won't try to hurt them or abuse the personal secrets they tell me."

The coyote glanced over at the wall above his desk. Several cubs' paintings and sketches, of various skill levels, were pinned across it. "But the fact is, Gary, that means I have to stay away. Parenting is hard, Gary. I've never been one, obviously, but I know it is. It's different, being that third-party that can offer advice to the parent or child and help them with a little perspective." Suddenly, he sighed. "I suppose we could translate our relationship to one of parent and child, but Nick will then lose a counselor.

"Could I remain his therapist while also being his father? I know too much about him, Gary, it's not fair. Everything would change. How could he argue with me, even if I'm wrong? Who will be there to give me a neutral perspective on our problems and tell me when I am the one that needs to change my behavior? I've built a relationship with that boy around his vulnerability, and keeping him safe in spite of it. That's different from the trust between child and parent - sometimes, parents and children need to clash. Nick needs someone he can argue with, someone he can keep secrets from, and those are healthy parts of growing up. That's going to be difficult if his parent is the one that spent almost a year perfecting the art of basically manipulating him and learning his every secret. I'm willing to try, but I'd rather leave it to the person I think could eventually be much more than a parent or therapist: you."

And Gary's heart skipped a beat. "You think I could be more than a parent? What do you mean by that?"

Czejak grinned. "You already view Nick with a fairness and respect I rarely see, Gary, and that is a powerful advantage. Nick could come to trust you as a close friend, a confidant, and his adoptive father. It all depends. You're going to get on one another's nerves at some point, but you could handle that like friends, or father and son, or just as Gary and Nick."

The cheetah thought about that for a moment. Something didn't seem right. "Alright," he conceded. "But I'm sorry, it doesn't add up. That can't be the only reason you haven't already got Nick out of there. It can't be."

"It isn't," replied Czejak. A tolerant smile on his weary face.

"You won't tell me, will you?"

"I won't need to." Czejak shook his head. "I've only ever explained it to two, Gary. My own therapist, a close friend of mine, and a young cheetah called Nick Davis. I'm sure he can explain it all to you. One day."

Gary let the subject drop. He was still embarrassed about the last time his counselor had visited his house.

"I won't lie to you, Gary," the coyote murmured. "You hurt Nick a lot that night. I don't blame you, or anything of the sort. The arrangement was temporary, we all knew that. But I'm just telling you how things stand. Nick is angry and dejected. He's really backed into a corner now. It won't be easy for you to rebuild."

"I know." It was a shock to Gary, just how easily those words slipped out. "I know. This is going to be tough, but I want to make it up to him. I want to do this, doc."

"You do?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely." Gary sighed. "I've thought about it, believe me. I know that this first shit-storm won't be the last. I know a regular school won't work with him. I've asked around online, I know the sorts of crap we're both going to have to go through. I know. I want to do this before I can change my mind again, but I've thought all about it."

Czejak was watching him intently. "I was sure you did. But Gary, did you ever answer that question? Did you ever work out exactly why you want Nick to live with you?"

But Gary just snorted. "Yes," he said. "It's not what you're probably worried about though."

"I'm not worried about that, Gary."

"So you say." The cheetah shook his head sadly. "Andrei. I'd kill myself if I realized I was adopting a kid just to... do that to them. That's the sickest thing I could ever conceive of. Just because I happen to find him attractive doesn't mean my decency is just going to evaporate." He paused. "Are you sure of this, doc?"

The coyote gave a weary sigh and cast a glance back at the amateurish drawings and paintings over his desk. "Part of me worries, yes. There's no shortage of times where caseworkers have made colossal mistakes. But... this is an alien world we're operating in, Gary. The reason I put the two of you together and gave you so much leeway was because I trusted you - all of you, even your attraction to younger males. I know you wouldn't hurt Nick, and I know that if anything did hurt Nick, it was your rejection. Not several moments of intimacy."

Gary swallowed. "I... I don't get it either, doc..." he admitted quietly. "I wish I hadn't... and I won't ever again. It's a-actually hard. Accepting what I did; I know what most people think, and I used to think that too. Now I don't know what to think. What you've told me, what society says, what Nick says... I don't know anymore. I wouldn't have done this with any other kid or under any other circumstances, I know that, but..."

"I advise you don't think about it like that, Gary," his psychologist said. "If you and Nick love and trust one another, you can do what you like together, provided you're a responsible, caring guardian. If you respect Nick, his wishes and well-being, then you're not going to hurt him. If you'll forgive me, blowjobs don't cause brain damage. Coercion, neglect, fear and emotional abuse do."

"I don't think it's relevant, Czejak. Nick won't ever come to me for that again. I know that; it's absolutely not why I want him in my house - but it is why I need to know that he wants to be there and he wants to stay with me."

"I understand perfectly, Gary; and Nick will be able to choose between us... or staying in the facility. I've had enough of seeing him faced with false choices." The coyote paused for a moment, eyeing his client speculatively. A grin spread over his muzzle. "Gary... he did find you attractive, you know."

Gary blinked. "Huh?"

"He wasn't approaching you as some ugly old creep he was going to sleep with just to avoid going back to the facility. He found you attractive."

The cheetah's cheeks blazed all of a sudden. "What did he say?" he demanded.

"Last time I spoke with him, we managed to speak a little about his sexuality. It's not something we always want to do, because I can't really speak to him privately, but he's been struggling with it a little, so we took the risk. Beyond that..." Czejak's sleepy, indulgent grin broke into a wide smile. "Beyond that, one of his friends that he used to stay with contacted me. I've learned rather a lot from them both now."

Gary frowned. "That's great, but why does it matter?"

"I understand the situation in that house much better now." The coyote scratched his head. "I also understand Nick a little better. He isn't just interested in boys his own age, Gary, you know. He very much does like older guys; not _much_older guys, obviously. Younger, attractive males. He had access to pornography and much experimentation, not just with another boy, but with older males too. I probed him a little about you, as well. Apparently, you look great without a shirt."

Naturally, Gary's cheeks burned even hotter. "I-I..."

"That's one of his things, incidentally. The whole shirtless look. He was rather embarrassed when he told me that the first time."

"Shit," Gary muttered, biting his lip briefly. "I have a bit of a habit of forgoing shirts at home. Are you saying this to mess with me, doc?"

"Not at all. But I am trying to make a point. You're not a troll that Nick forced himself to sleep with. In fact, he was quite impressed the few times he got a good look."

"Alright, fuck, okay." Now Gary couldn't help but laugh. "I did notice him, I just... didn't think that's what he was doing. Y-you know, at the time." He grinned like an idiot. "Oh my God. I mean... it's fucked up, but it's damn flattering."

"I'm sure it is, and I don't believe his admiration in and of itself is as 'fucked up' as all that - he's attracted to males, and you're not an unattractive male, it's quite simple. Gary, the point is, Nick probably does have the idea in his head that offering you sex would have let him stay for longer." The coyote gave a wry smile. "Believe me, Gary, I want to work on these issues, but I can't while he's in that damn camp. But you've got it all wrong if you think he hated you and only slept with some ugly old lecher because he didn't want to be sent back to Wilder Springs. He liked you, Gary, and was afraid you would send him away. Once he found out you could be interested in the only thing he thought he could offer you, he thought to try it. It wasn't easy for him. Your rejection confused him."

Gary felt heavy again almost immediately. "I know."

"He's a very negative child, Gary. He doesn't understand that you want him just to be with you; that you want to help him, and that everything else is a bonus. To give and not take. He took your rejection and internalized it as he always does." Czejak paused. "He's not good-looking enough. He's too stupid for you. He's not worth your money and you'll never like him. Everyone gets rid of him."

The cheetah stiffened. "That is not what I said! Fuck, what? Is that really what he said?!"

"Afraid so, Gary, and that's what they want him to think. If he doesn't do as he is told and graduate his program, then nobody will want him."

For some reason, the revelation of that obvious fact threw Gary's mind into chaos. "Why?" he asked at last, shaking his head. "This is fucked up! Why do they do this to those kids?"

Czejak shrugged. "Good question, Gary. But it's nothing new. It's rather like what happens in prisons, I imagine."

"These aren't prisons, Andrei," Gary muttered darkly. "What happens in these places would never be allowed to be done to a prisoner. These kids are treated like dirt just because they're young - and that's also the main reason they're sent to these hellholes, isn't it? Parents deciding on a whim they want their kids 'fixed' and nothing's to stop them. No rules, no regulations. Nobody to check if the problems can be solved another way or if things are the parents' fault. It's sickening, doc."

The coyote eyed him for a moment. "So you've been doing your homework, I see," he said neutrally.

"Of course." Gary realized his paw had clenched into an angry fist. "I'm disgusted. Angry, hate-filled assholes deluding themselves into confusing punishment with justice. These places are just anger and hatred fuckin' condensed into little cults of punishment and control and slack-jawed idiocy. Can you imagine being sent to a place like that?!"

Czejak nodded slowly - but Gary got the feeling his counselor was analyzing him.

After a moment, Czejak straightened a little. "I can't say I disagree with that assessment, Gary. Try to take away a parent's 'right' to strike their children or invade their privacy in this country and watch them react as if we were taking away their favorite toy - no matter how compelling the evidence and other countries' successes. It's not as simple as that, but perhaps there's something to what you say. But I wouldn't hate these facilities just for existing."

"You're going to have to convince me on that one, doc."

"Well, Gary, the concept of an effective alternative to detention centers is a good one. Isn't it a far better idea to sentence a young offender to a useful inpatient therapy course than to simply to lock them up and forget about them? Perhaps a 'ranch' could be better than a 'juvie.' Not saying that's the case now, but..." The coyote rubbed his nose slightly. "It's not the broad concept of these facilities themselves that is disgusting to me."

Gary shook his head firmly. "No way. The very idea of parents just having the power to send their kids to places like Wilder Springs based on their fucking whims is just wrong. That's too much power. Kids are people too, and they have rights. They're not fucking property. A parent's right to raise their kids is one thing, but this is the exact kind of thing that needs to be prevented by child abuse laws; where the line between parental authority and individual rights is drawn. I don't care how abusive a particular facility is or isn't, Andrei. It's just fundamentally immoral and cruel. You know that not all of those kids 'deserve' to be in Wilder Springs. You know that."

"I know, Gary. But if this industry was strictly monitored and the youths sent to them are sent based on the decisions of social workers, psychologists and accountable courts, as a result of actual misbehavior, and as a last resort when appropriate, it'd be a different story. That's the problem - it's a billion dollar industry with friends in very, very high places and it is not regulated at all. It feeds on parental fears and misinformation and an angry, spiteful disposition towards the youth of this country. The entire philosophy behind many private residential facilities needs to be totally inverted." Czejak smiled slightly. "I'm not surprised to hear just how vehemently you feel about this issue, Gary."

"I could've lived happier never knowing about them." Gary let out a slow, angry breath. "It's disgusting. Did you know these fuckin' places originally based their tactics around political brainwashing camps and cults? And this shit just goes on, quietly in the background, as the news reports football scores and- and celebrities getting piercings and shit!"

"I know." Czejak's expression was sad, though he still smiled. "I'm sorry, Gary. But this issue is a symptom of a disease too rampant for either of us to fix. Getting angry won't help kids like Nick. Are you sure you'll be able to control yourself when we visit him?"

"Of course." Gary lidded his eyes briefly. "I'm sorry, doc. This is the kinda thing that would've upset me years ago - now I know someone directly being hurt by it all. Just makes it worse. That's all. I dunno."

"It's good, Gary." The psychologist interlaced his fingers. "I'm glad you care - and you're willing to try and help. It's fine." But Czejak's smile widened. "I have a question for you, Gary."

"Shoot."

"I asked it once before, but I don't think you were comfortable answering. I think you might be now."

Gary blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Gary, what does Nick mean to you? What is he to you now?"

After a confused second, Gary frowned pensively. "I'm still not sure," the cheetah mumbled. "I don't know what to call it, Andrei. I like him, and I want him to be around. I want to help him and shit, yes, I want to look after him. But I don't know... I don't know where we are." Gary shrugged helplessly. "It's so hard to get him to open up, Andrei. I never knew from one minute to the next what he was thinking, what he felt. One minute he's raging like a madman about being forced to stay with me, the next he wants to sit with me and watch a movie. One day he doesn't want to see or even hear me, then a few weeks later he's trying to get me to touch him - and I didn't know why. That's why I freaked out, doc. It's crazy."

"I understand." Czejak flicked a glance over at the drawings above his desk yet again. "It takes time for him to let his guard down and be sure of what he can and can't do around people, Gary. I can't say I blame him. But you were getting closer. So much happened in just three weeks and I saw him acclimate far more rapidly than I would ever have imagined. He connected with you; you met him half-way, didn't you? Gave him respect and understanding as well as care. I know exactly what you mean, when you say you didn't know what he really felt, but he liked you, Gary. It might not have been obvious, but you didn't treat him like a burden or a stupid child. You were his friend as well as his guardian. A father that he actually liked and knew cared about him."

Gary snorted. "Then I sucked him off and sent him away. Yeah, I was a great dad."

"I know, Gary." Czejak stood. "He's never had a guardian ask for him to come back." The coyote reached over and plucked off the wall one of the many pieces of paper above his desk. He laid it down on his desk, frowning at it. "Hm."

Gary eyed the sheet - it was covered in several small, messy sketches. The awkward artwork of a young child. "What's that?"

"This, Gary, is what Nick drew when I was last visiting him." Czejak sat down again. "I try this every now and then. If the child isn't too distraught, it can help them to relax while we discuss things. But there's another use for it too." He slipped the paper closer to Gary, resting a finger just above the center of it. "Care to guess what this is?"

Leaning forward, Gary squinted. It was hard to tell what he was seeing. "A bottle? Of orange soda? I don't know."

"Why, Gary, it's your favorite beer. Don't you recognize it?" Czejak chortled lightly. "He's not the best artist, but he was trying. For some reason, he was drawing things about you. I can't imagine why."

All the moisture in Gary's muzzle evaporated in an instant. He flicked his eyes over the page again, half-rising from his chair.

Beside the bottle was a square-ish house, with large windows and a brown door. It was a messy scribble; the pencil had gone outside the lines many times. However, Gary still knew what it was.

A green ball and lopsided tennis racquet were just off to the side, next to what looked like a cigarette and a brown chair with two legs longer than the other and definitely not straight.

Just below it was a large sharp knife, the outline in black. Gary recognized it - he swallowed aloud. He did not recognize the poorly drawn handgun beside it, though.

"I wonder," Czejak mumbled suddenly, "just why the gun is there. He's angry, Gary. I think he would love to have something like that. Something that'd give him the power to hurt those that hurt him. Or maybe just to protect himself. To command respect. Or maybe he was just drawing a gun, as boys will do."

Slowly, Gary lowered himself to his chair again. "No," he said softly. "Nick wouldn't hurt anyone. I know that. If you handed him a gun, he wouldn't know what to do with it."

"Well, now you know. He still thinks about you, Gary. Even though I think he wishes he didn't."

His sight blurring, Gary just stared at his outstretched legs. "Doc..." he murmured. "What the hell are we doing? Are you sure this is the right thing to do? Put Nick back with me?"

Czejak smiled wanly. "Believe it or not, Gary, yes. I think so." The coyote crossed his legs. "You're a responsible person with good instincts, but you're still caught up in your own issues. It might take time, but I selected you because I know you're very capable of it."

"I guess." Gary rubbed his nose briefly.

Somewhere in his head, Gary knew he harbored a desire to be a responsible parent. Looking after Nick made him realize that even more. He loved the idea of protecting, nurturing and being wanted by someone. Of being a responsible adult with a reason to get out of bed in the morning.

To cook for someone else. To take care of them when they got sick. To help them when they needed it, teach them to fend for themselves. He wanted someone to care for and to love. He was nearly twenty-eight and he'd never had a kid of his own. He never would.

It really didn't change anything that he found Nick attractive - he had gone almost thirty years without touching a kid. He could manage quite a few more. But, that being said...

"Andrei," the cheetah said, frowning. "This experiment. It isn't legal, is it?"

But Czejak just looked at him, amused. "Of course it is, Gary." He chuckled. "None of the guardians have a criminal record or anything precluding them from fostering, and they've all been vouched for by mental health professionals and social workers who are watching them like hawks. They just happen to be minor-attracted."

"I didn't mean that part."

The coyote inclined his head. "The other part is not official, Gary. A few of us agree that consensual, respectful expressions of sexuality won't harm anyone - and for the record, Nick is one of the youngest in this experiment by far. We trust everyone we've involved in this experiment, but we're watching this, we're keeping an eye on the matter. Very, very carefully."

"I wonder how an ethics committee or whatever would feel about that."

"Well, my concern is the well-being and happiness of these adolescents, Gary." Czejak shrugged, nonchalance betraying the direness of his words. "We're analyzing the effect that being placed with respectful, responsible, minor-attracted adults as mentors or parents has on troubled youth. Sexuality is part of the matter, we can hardly avoid it. It certainly isn't necessary, and we're only allowing it insofar as we have evidence that it won't cause any harm. Consensual, educated and responsible play is not the same as selfish power abuse. We are not going to let our charges, whom many of us care about deeply, come to harm."

"I don't... necessarily disagree. I s'pose." Gary sighed. "Yeah, I know. Nobody can look me in the face and tell me that if I had a consensual blow-job at Nick's age, I'd've regretted it or somehow been hurt. But Nick's behavior is- what happened with Nick and I, can that really be called normal or healthy? I don't think so, doc."

Czejak closed his eyes briefly, swaying for just a moment. "I think I know where you're going here, Gary. Let me explain, as this has to do with what I've found out from Nick's friend."

"Alright."

"Adolescent promiscuity is often a result of abuse, or a confused understanding of what is and is not appropriate - however, not always. In fact, some sexual behavior is expected and healthy; there's no hard and fast rule about it, it all comes down to what the exact behavior is, and why the youth is doing it, and if he or she is taking risks. Nick's behavior, going out on a limb to see if he could bribe you, was likely influenced by his experiences with his friends, not to mention he was worried about being sent away. However, I don't think it's fair to say that Nick is promiscuous or doesn't know what's appropriate." Czejak paused and gathered himself. "Nick did what he did as a response to his uncertainty, and only after hearing that you might be, well, interested. He's an intelligent child, Gary. He does things for reasons, even if they might not be apparent at first."

"That hardly excuses me, doc."

"Perhaps. You didn't hurt him, Gary. I rather think he was glad that you were so affectionate to him. You didn't reject him."

"Yeah. Whatever." His vision blurred. Gary felt a wet heat at the corners of his eyes and he stared at his shoes blankly. It wasn't the first time his counselor had seen him cry. "I-I don't know, doc!" he groaned eventually. "I... even if what I did was alright, when I did it was j-just fucked up!" Reclining in his chair, Gary clawed at his face with a paw. Despite his best efforts, he felt his face twist into a grimace. "What the fuck, man?! I should've known! What's up with my fuckin' stupid... pedo-_faggot_ass!? Even if it... at the time he didn't even want to! I didn't even think, I just fuckin' t-took advantage! Or whatever!"

The counselor looked at him sadly. Gary wasn't even sure he had heard half of what he said; his voice was quavering and mumbled as he fought off the urge to cry. He blinked away the tears and tried to avoid eye contact with the coyote. He stared at his chair's smooth, leather arm-rest instead.

God, he felt like such a piece of shit... again.

"Gary." Czejak smiled wanly. "You didn't know what Nick's motives were. Perhaps that's because he's so very good at hiding them. Perhaps that was because Nick was more comfortable and willing to be around you than you think? You'll have to find out." The coyote's eyes suddenly bored into Gary's watery, hazel ones. "Gary, I know you won't forgive yourself easily. You won't forgive yourself until Nick does, at the very least. That's good. But you need to move past this to give him the chance to forgive you. If you don't give yourself another chance, how can he?"

"Do I deserve another chance?" Gary's voice cracked badly. He swallowed.

"Do you love him, Gary?"

"... Yes."

"Do you want to do what's best for him?"

"Y-yes, of course I-!"

"Then you do."

Gary froze. Then a sardonic laugh snorted out of his nose.

"You want to do what's best for him, and, more importantly, you're capable of doing that. You're also the first foster parent he's ever connected with and wanted to stay with, even to the point he rejected the chance to go home to his friends - that's insane. You even said yourself that you won't make the same mistake you did before." Czejak picked up a notebook from his scrupulously neat desk. "Before I forget, Gary, there's something you should know."

"What?"

The counselor's eyes flicked over his notes, and a wry smile broke out on his muzzle again. Gary realized he had seen that smile more in the last month or so than in the years he had been seeing the coyote. Only now did he realize how much frustration and bitter cynicism was hidden behind it, and the coyote's usually bubbly exterior. "I thought you might find this a little interesting. One of the boys Nick was living with was called Kyle - Nick's friend, Chase, told me his name and that he had been in the foster system, but didn't tell me any way to identify him. According to Chase, Kyle had been put into a foster home at a young age and was sexually abused; not by his guardian, but by one of their relatives." Czejak cleared his throat. "It's likely he shared his story with Nick at some point. I didn't know any of this, Nick never mentioned it. From what he's told me, however, Nick doesn't necessarily dislike or worry about minor-attracted adults, but his own experiences, combined with that story, likely caused him to panic briefly - and when Nick panics..."

Gary swallowed. "I know. He loses it."

"He has post-traumatic stress disorder, Gary. His anxiety isn't rational. I'll ask him, but I suspect that at some level he was afraid you would start to abuse him after a few weeks, as his second-last guardian did, and that colored his understanding of the revelation that you were minor-attracted."

"Pedophile," Gary corrected. "No need for euphemism."

"It's not a euphemism, Gary. It's a more accurate term." Czejak flipped up a page, frowning at the one below. "He was scared at first, but I think Nick will calm down eventually, Gary. To be blunt about it, as bad as Wilder Springs is, it's far better than when he was living with that monster. He needs time to accept being back in the system. I have a chance to get a boy out of one of these facilities; where they're usually lost and forgotten. I'm going to do it." The coyote hesitated before adding, "I can't be a coward any longer."

"He deserves a childhood," murmured Gary, nodding his head slowly. His head was starting to feel like it was packed with wool. For some reason, he felt like their conversation was surreal. It couldn't really be happening. Discussing issues of such depth and gravity, not just for himself, but for them all. "Or adolescence, whatever. Whatever he can scavenge now.."

"I have to admit, Gary, I'm fascinated by the tales Chase and Nick have told me about that house. It's very intriguing." Czejak scratched his nose pensively. "At first, I thought as others did that Nick was being exploited. It's a story I've heard before. I worried that the young adult, Chris, was trying to pull the boys into prostitution or worse. That's not my impression anymore."

"What do you think now?"

"I think he was trying to shelter them. Give them a home where they could be free. I'm not saying he's doing a good job, Gary, or that I agree in the slightest with his methods; I think he's a troubled individual himself. But at least he was trying." Czejak blinked. "Will you try, Gary?" The coyote's voice dropped to a near whisper. He sounded tired, suddenly. "Just one more try? For both of you?"

Gary looked his counselor full in the face. "And you."

"Yes."

"... Yeah. I will. I already said I would."

There was a moment of numb, drained silence. Gary knew the import of what he was saying - though he had made the decision already - but he somehow didn't feel it. Its weight was lost somewhere, smothered somehow.

"Andrei," he muttered, straightening. "Are you sure there's nothing you can do? About this place?"

"Afraid so, Gary..." The coyote placed his notebook back on his desk, precisely where he had lifted it from. Gary absently noticed it was perfectly parallel with the desk's edge. "For now. I don't have the evidence I need. As I've said before, I've made many complaints and tried several times to have something done, but there is something very, very wrong."

"How do you mean?"

Czejak's expression was blank. "My complaints have vanished. Gone nowhere. I've even been 'advised' indirectly, though quite firmly, to stop what I was doing. One facility insisted I stop visiting - three weeks later, I discovered I was no longer the caseworker for any of the boys there. Seems their complaints about me carry more weight." He paused. "Not long ago, one facility was shut down and the operators sued. Not incarcerated. They have a new facility now, in a new location under a different name. A lawsuit of tens of thousands doesn't make a dent in an industry of millions, maybe more. With no licensing or regulations..."

"This is insane..."

"I know. Can you imagine what it's like for that insanity to be the central fact, the only constant, of your life, Gary? Finding yourself trapped and friendless in such a place?" The coyote sighed. "They have friends in high places, Gary. Money, and ignorance, the misguided belief they're somehow doing good, are powerful weapons. It's not as simple as having the evidence to take down one facility, Gary. Wilder Springs is the rule at the moment, not the exception. The only way this industry will be affected is when people are educated; not just about their existence and methods, but how those methods are so flawed and destructive. The entire attitude, of vengeance as justice, of anger as 'tough love', that harming is helping or that children are property, it's just a disease. That..." Czejak's eyes lidded. "I don't have much hope for that."

"I do. One day soon."

Again, that cynical smile. "Well. Maybe."

"Allow me my delusions, doc. I've been feeling down enough recently."

"Like I said. Maybe." Czejak chortled. "Well, I'm going to see Nick tomorrow. As far as the staff are concerned, I'm still following up on the experiment. I'll tell him you're coming, and you can come the next time. Does that sound good?"

"It sounds perfect, doc." The cheetah shook his head, slightly incredulous. "He's a strong, smart kid and I absolutely want him around. I'd be proud to. Tell him that, okay?"

"I will." Czejak cast another glance at the drawings above his desk. "... Gary, just be aware that the staff will try to dissuade you from taking him. It's very unlikely that he won't have a staff member with him when you meet."

"Why?" Gary blinked. "Why would they do something like that?"

"Nick is worth a lot of money to them, Gary. Maybe upwards of thirty thousand a year from the government. And of course, he's not even a level one out of five. Between the administration wanting the money and the true-believers, I'm surprised we've gotten as far as we have." Czejak rubbed at his cheek momentarily. "He's been fighting for so long, Gary. I don't know how he'll react. It all depends on how far along he is now... through his program, I mean."

"I know." Gary swore quietly. "It's my fault."

"Perhaps, Gary. But a year of being denied food, freedom, sleep, communication, of being punished whenever he broke one of hundred rules... It was just a matter of time, really. You really have to understand how much pressure he's been under. Everything they do there is a tried and tested crusade to break these kids down and make them discard their old sense of self. This might sound dramatic, but resistance is often futile." Czejak exhaled slowly. "Honestly, Gary, he's done very well so far. Better than he should have."

"Then we don't have much time." Gary barely realized his paws had become clenched fists. "If he just gives up and starts believing whatever they say, the damage is gonna be a lot worse, right?"

"That's right. I'm meeting Nick tomorrow, I'll discuss this with him and the staff. If all goes to plan, I should be able to let you see him on the seventh or so." Czejak stood with a grunt. "I'll get all the necessary paperwork to you. If he says yes, I want to move quickly."

"Fine by me." Gary stood also, smoothing out the front of his crisp white shirt. Forcing himself calm. "And if you'll excuse me, doc, I have a date tonight. Last one in some time, I think."

Czejak looked at him, one ear cocked. "Oh?"

"Jared's mother is ill down in Florida. He has to see her - and you know I won't stop him."

"Ah. He won't be away long, will he?"

"I don't know, doc. Neither of us knows." Gary smiled. "So we've just got to make tonight one to remember."

"I'm sorry, Gary."

"It's alright." The cheetah shrugged. "Jared's done so much for me. I guess I needed that. I needed someone to reconnect me to the world, if you know what I mean. I was a hell of an idiot, trying to drink everything away, trying to hook up with a different guy a week, just to spite my life. Then I was just drowning everything in my work instead. Getting more numb each passing, pointless week." He chuckled. "Needed to find a happy medium, and be someone to somebody - and be okay with that. I think I can do this, doc. You were right. Thanks man. It really is thanks to you."

"Gary..." Czejak suddenly beamed, managing to look just slightly abashed. "You made the effort and you fought the fight. I just helped a little."

"And you do it well. Good luck."

"Thank you." The coyote yawned hugely, his entire body shuddering. "Ugh, excuse me!" he managed to force out at last. "I think I need that coffee now."

Gary had to laugh as he lifted his jacket from the back of the leather chair. "Nothing new there! Good night! Oh, and get some actual sleep this time. You're no good to anyone if you're a barely-functional zombie, doc."

"No promises, Gary. You see that pile of paper just there?" Czejak nodded at a stack of legal sized sheets just by his black, leather-bound organizer. "That's for tomorrow morning."

Gary had to wince...

*

** December 4th**

The sun was out. Albeit only fleetingly. Occasionally, it would shine warmly from between the clouds; a welcome sight, given the weather for the last week. Even still, it was a cold and dull excuse for a morning.

Nick trudged across the wet grass, holding a rancid-smelling garbage bag at arms length. Dew and rain from the night before had already soaked his runners, and his track-pants from the knees down were sodden.

He was on breakfast trash duty this morning, and this was the fourth trip he'd made from the dining hall, around the building to the gravel loading bay behind the kitchens.

When he reached the dumpsters, the kit selected an almost full one and swung the heavy bag up and into it. Glad to be rid of his stinking cargo, he turned quickly and made his way back to the grass - away from the stomach churning odor of the bins.

He tried to not look at the counselor supervising him - a lemur in heavy black pants and a coat, just watching him with beady eyes. He had been following along while Nick went back and forth.

It was stupid. Why didn't the grownup help carry the bags if he was going to just walk along with Nick anyway?

The morning sun warming his back, Nick ambled back around the building, once more trudging through the wet grass.

A chilly breeze suddenly arose, buffeting him from the front. He stumbled, raising a paw to protect his face. The wind continued to blow, and Nick found himself coming to a halt. Under his arm, he saw the lemur duck around the side of the white-painted brick building.

"Come on, Nick!" the counselor yelled over his shoulder. "Move it! Inside!"

Nick took only a few steps before the breeze howled even louder, pushing him backwards as it caught him full on the chest.

Swearing, Nick surrendered and stopped again, ducking his head slightly. He wasn't sure if it was the morning exercises, or a result of the previous evening's, but his legs were stiff and weak, his arms heavy and sore. He really didn't want to force himself to walk into the gust, which was quickly growing into a full-blown gale.

But he had to catch up to the counselor. Since the fight, the staff had tightened his "LoS" restrictions - line of sight. Orange and yellow shirts had strict rules about how long they could be out of a staff member's line of sight. It seemed to him that they'd relaxed a little about his, probably because he'd been there so long. Although he was mostly under the eye of at least one intensely watchful staff member, sometimes they'd be a little lax.

Not any more. He had twenty- or was it ten?- seconds to get back in the lemur's eyesight or he could have PEs or worse. He was pretty much on a fuckin' leash.

The wind slammed into him again, forcing him to take a step back. Nick glanced up at the sky, squinting slightly.

A cloudbank was approaching. It was an odious, murky black, preparing again to block out the sun. Likely a storm, Nick figured. Shit.

But the sky closer to the building was much nicer. Though it was laden with thick, heavy clouds, Nick could distinctly see the shafts of light where the sun somehow penetrated them. Some of the clouds were gilded by the furtive sunlight, glinting like shining steel.

A flock of birds burst from behind one, climbing higher and higher, as if seeking the warmth and illumination above.

Nick swallowed.

Slowly, he spread his arms, letting the wind hit him with full force. As expected, he stumbled back, almost being blown to his backside before he managed to lock one leg out behind him. But he didn't care. He just wanted to feel it on his fur now.

Suddenly he wished he could feel it forever. It tickled his fur, filled his head with the wet, sweet smell from the nearby trees. Clear and brisk.

The wind died down slightly, so Nick sighed and started to push forward again. Slinking closer to the building's wall, hoping it would shield him at least a little.

As expected, the lemur had darted inside once the wind had picked up. He was waiting for Nick just inside the side door, paws folded.

"What were you doing out there?" the counselor demanded the moment Nick tugged open the door. "You took far too long."

Nick kept his eyes downcast. "The wind was too strong. I got here as quick as I could."

"Alright," the counselor muttered. "You have to stay in a staff member's line of sight at all times. I told you to get a move on."

"Shit..." Nick breathed. "I didn't mean to."

The lemur's voice got even sterner. "Vulgar language, Nick. Last warning."

Wisely, Nick shut up.

"I'll let you off this time. Next time you screw around out of sight, you've got PEs. Tim took the last bag. You're rostered for bathroom duty next. Come on."

Nick raised a paw slightly. "Uh-" He caught himself at the last second.

"What?"

"Mister Wadlow said I'm not allowed to use mops or brooms..." Nick shuffled slightly, looking down at the lemur's shoes. "Any stuff like that."

"You're doing it by hand, Nick. You get a hand-brush, cloth and bucket - this is what you get for using cleaning utensils as weapons. Now you have to clean without them. Abuse it, you lose it. That's life. You're lucky you've even got those." The counselor sighed. "Get a move on. I've got things to do; I can't be out here supervising just you."

As Nick marched down the corridor, the adult looming behind him, he felt a little queasy.

The thought of being down on his knees, cleaning the toilet bowls with just his paws and a shitty little brush, already had him gagging. If he got sick again... they were never kind to the ones who got sick. Besides, even for him that was fucking gross.

"Oh. That reminds me." The counselor suddenly grumbled. Nick glanced back. "Your social worker is coming tonight. If you want to eat, you're going to have to get your work finished fast."

Nick nodded and returned his gaze forwards.

Czejak was visiting? Again, so soon? That was good. He really needed to talk to the coyote. To talk to someone.

The kit smiled slightly, remembering what the doc had promised. For some reason, he was looking forward to it.

The lemur spoke again. "You'd better hurry and finish the bathrooms, then get your room to inspection." He coughed. "You have to be ready before Group."

Nick almost tripped.

"You didn't have to come, Gary..."

"Well, I did."

Despite the hustle and bustle of the many furs around them, milling around the airport like confused lambs, the two felines spoke softly. Together, they stood in the quietest corner they could find.

Jared shook his head, shifting the backpack on his shoulder. "Thank you..."

"I wasn't gonna let you catch the bus here." Gary grinned.

"Are you going into the office today?" the serval asked suddenly, frowning in thought.

"Nah. I called in sick. I'll get home about ten, so I can log in if they really need me. Why?"

"Oh, it's nothing." Jared smiled wistfully. "You were always so bored and lonely at work, Gary... If you weren't focusing like a madman on your job, anyway. I'm sorry I'm leaving you all alone again."

"It's alright, Jared." Shrugging, the cheetah found himself inching closer. "I understand. I'll miss you, though. A lot."

Jared gave a heavy sigh. "I can't believe it took us so long to start talking to one another. You know, properly."

"I'm glad, though. Better late than never, right?"

With one smooth motion, Jared stepped forward and hugged him. Instinctively, Gary slipped his arms around the serval's chest, holding him close. Sweet cologne filled his nostrils.

They were roughly the same height and build. Gary felt so right, just holding the serval close. It felt just perfect.

"Gary... I, uh, was kinda lonely before you came along." Jared swallowed, squeezing slightly. "Thanks."

Gary smiled to himself. "Does anyone know?" he asked softly. "Anyone in your family?"

"Just my mom." Jared snorted. "I've not had a steady boyfriend since I was high school, and that sure as heck didn't last long. My fault, really."

"I know how it goes."

"I'll be back soon, Gary. I swear."

Gary shook his head slowly. "Jared... we have no idea, do we?"

"... No, I guess not. I'm sorry."

"Stay in touch, okay?"

"I will." Suddenly, Jared shifted. With conviction, he kissed the cheetah, full on the muzzle. For several long, ardent moments. "This isn't goodbye, okay?" he breathed, separating at last. "I'm definitely not leaving forever."

Gary flushed.

Jared obviously noticed. His grin became slightly mischievous. "A bit too public for you?" he murmured.

Naturally, Gary squirmed like a schoolboy. "Just not used to it."

Laying a paw on the cheetah's chest, Jared just laughed. "Don't worry, I don't do it often. And after last night, you don't get to pull the shy little boy act on me! I know better!"

They chatted on and on for some time, ears twitching every time the crackly, harsh voice over the PA system announced each flight's boarding. Waiting for the one fateful announcement that would end the moment.

They stood close together, unthinkingly touching one another with a surprisingly deep affection, though Gary still found himself feeling a little numb.

This was something that had to happen. It would do no good to get upset about it - besides, he was fairly sure that his emotional well was running a little drier than usual. In one month alone, he had been through more stress and depression than he had felt in years.

The joy and relief he felt from meeting Jared and coming to accept himself a little more had served as a counterpoint, but the conflicting emotions didn't simply cancel one another out. So many intense feelings had surged through Gary in a mere two weeks that he felt exhausted on a bizarre, deep level he hadn't felt since teenage years, or when his mom was taken from him.

It really wasn't a feeling he had missed.

Hearing Jared's voice and feeling his touch had changed so much. It validated him and his feelings; told him that he was something, that he mattered. The only thing comparable had been when he was with Nick. Laughing together at puerile humor he had long denied enjoying. Holding him close in a tender embrace from behind.

In different ways, they both gave solidity to who Gary felt he was. A direction and reality.

The two of them were -

Suddenly, the obnoxiously loud and distorted PA gave a crackle. "Flight YR-67 is now preparing to board," it blurted, so incoherent it was hard to tell the voice's gender. "Gate three. Flight YR-67 is now preparing to board. Gate three."

Jared winced. "That's me."

"I figured." Gary sighed. "Should I come with you to the gate?"

The serval shook his head, a bitter smile on his features. "They won't let you through security to the departure lounge."

"But this is a domestic flight."

"Yeah, go figure. Gary..." Once more, Jared laid that paw on the cheetah's chest. "I have to go."

"I know." Gary just nodded. "I really understand, Jared. Just remember to keep in touch, okay?"

"I will. Of course I will." Somberly, Jared took Gary's white-furred paw and squeezed it in both of his own. "I'm sorry if it's too early, but I love you, okay? I can't ask you to wait for me or anything like that. I just hope I'll be back soon."

"I don't have the guts to start dating random guys." Gary grinned whimsically. "And I don't want to anyway. I'll be waiting, Jared. I love you too. Thanks for everything."

The serval stepped away, hitching up his backpack again. "Alright. I hope you do what you need to do with that kit, too. Whatever that is." He smiled. "Good luck, Gary. I'll be in touch."

"You too... See you soon."

"Definitely. Don't forget to wave at the plane! I'll be lookin' for you."

Sharing another wan smile, they stepped apart. Jared slowly ambled towards the escalator leading up towards the security checkpoint. Others shuffled towards it too, crowding around the base of the too-narrow moving stairway, and Jared cast one smile over his shoulder before he slipped into the milling horde of airline passengers.

Unable to move, Gary stood as still as a rock, watching his new friend - or was that officially "boyfriend," now? - slowly rise out of sight. The grating, echoing sound of the clamoring airport crowd around him fading away to a quiet, inconsequential murmur.

Already, he knew he was alone again.

It took him several minutes before he could work up the energy and conviction to turn and head for the parking lot.

Many miles away, a white sedan pulled to the side of a narrow, potholed road, its engine revving pointlessly and tires squealing in protest. After a moment, the driver's door clunked open and a bitter-faced jaguar lurched out.

Adam slammed his door, more out of an affectation of anger than any real emotion, and appraised the neglected, cheap bungalow he'd parked opposite. He scanned the windows, looking for movement or any hints of occupancy.

Nothing.

For some reason, that did genuinely piss him off. His face set in a stony glare of incipient aggression.

If he was being honest, and he was honest to himself, much of his life was show. Much of it was acting, intended to further his ends and cultivate the image he wanted for himself. But he had no delusions of grandeur; his black and red sweatshirt was cheap and unwashed, his similarly colored track-pants costing fifty dollars, and his car was second-hand. Adam was smalltime.

That didn't hold him back though. Didn't bother him none. Ever since discovering his calling at a young age, trading his younger brother's dexies for cash in middle-school, Adam's philosophy had been "fake it 'til you make it!" - so far, it hadn't let him down. Barely a blip on the radar of the big guys, or the cops, he had free reign. He could sell to the kids, to the homeless, and it was almost entirely risk free.

He didn't have a gang, didn't have some sort of large operation. Didn't have any competition. He had a few friends, guys who'd been with him since he was a kid. When some smart-ass kid didn't pay his dues back in middle school, it usually fell to one of his friends to deal with that.

Probably to save the little shit from a bigger ass-whoopin', though. One thing Adam didn't need to fake was his love of violence. He didn't bother with that "word of mouth" shit. Adam didn't have to worry about that shit. He knew he was an asshole, and he was proud of it. Building on his efforts from his days in school, his clientèle, mostly teenagers and the occasional ballsy tween, in this shitty area, were easy pickings for him. They'd even give him good reason, most of the time, just like Nick.

But they had no choice. If they wanted their shit, there was nobody else. Adam was their guy, his prices were affordable, and once they stepped into his world, Adam and his friends were around every corner.

His friends weren't there with him today, but Adam wouldn't need the backup, not for this. He'd done this shit enough by now.

After Nick's bullshit, Adam had been waiting to take it out on his shit-skull buddies. Especially that fuckin' wolfhound. Thinking he was such hot shit.

Checking his nine-millimeter was still in his tracksuit pants' waist, tucked securely at his back, he started to stride towards the neglected, weed-choked garden of the house across the road, his gait an exaggerated, purposeful swagger.

Strangely, the front door of the house was open, only the screen-door barring his bath, and that wasn't even locked. Banishing his frown of confusion, Adam gripped the door and pulled it open. "Hey, who's home?" he yelled, throwing the door aside with a loud bang before striding inside.

He glanced around, mildly confused.

The house was as much of a fucking mess as always. He passed the living room, noting the empty, rumpled sheets on the couch and on the floor; the discarded fast food containers and bowls of microwaveable meals strewn about the carpet. Nothing unusual, except there was nobody to be seen.

Completely without regard for the inhabitants, Adam swore to himself and stomped through the house. He poked his head into one of the bedrooms, the one he remembered was usually occupied by the shy clouded leopard. The kid wasn't there either.

"What the fuck?!" snapped Adam, reaching for his pistol. Whether it was anger or prudence, he drew the weapon and held it in front of him in a single paw - he had never used his weapon for real, nor practiced with it, so he had no idea how to even hold it. Had he even the slightest education in the matter, he would've known that his usual technique of holding it sideways was just about as moronic as things could get.

Stalking through the house, Adam finally turned and headed for the door to the garage - it too was open, sitting slightly ajar. The fucking faggots were probably out the back, in the disused garage, wasted too bad to even hear him. Fuckin' damn it.

The jaguar shoved the door aside, once more resulting in a huge bang. Before he could yell again, he realized something.

The semi-closed carport was empty. The cheap, plastic garden chairs usually employed when the housemates were getting fucked up outside were unoccupied, and there was only a rusty, spider-web decorated fence on the rear wall, leading out to the backyard, which was littered with junk, cigarette butts and several discarded cola-bottle bongs, as always.

However, in the center of the shed-like garage was a large pile of junk. Takeout packaging, wood from broken furniture and fencing and other miscellaneous pieces of dusty shit. Atop it, however, was a large piece of paper.

The word "ADAM" was scrawled on it in red highlighter.

"The fuck?!" Adam growled, inching towards it. They had left him a note... had they known he was coming?

How the fuck...?

His ears pricked and sensitive already, the jaguar heard the crunching of grit behind him. He whirled to face the fur that had snuck up on him, but it was already too late. Raising the gun awkwardly with one paw, all he saw was the dull wooden surface of a baseball bat, and a furious, canine expression.

His mind exploded into a brilliant, meaningless white, then plunged into a deep darkness.

Time, of course, had no meaning, but when he did wake up, his brain wasn't jump-started by sight or the passing of time. Instead, a pungent odor, so strong as to be sickening, jolted his rattled brain awake.

Coughing, Adam felt consciousness return. His eyes were already watering before he thought to open them, and his coughing swiftly became desperate, nauseated gagging.

His head ached in two, strangely dissimilar ways. A throbbing, deep pain and a sharp, stabbing agony above his eyes.

"Surprise, dickhead," growled a mocking young voice.

Adam coughed and tried to pull himself upright. Something hit him firmly in the chest and he collapsed backwards with a resounding crash, smacking into something metal and yet somehow yielding.

Blinking feverishly, at last images swam into focus.

"Wh-what the fuck-?!" he heaved, staring in blurry disbelief.

The wolfhound, Chris, stood right in front of him, by the odd pile of junk. Adam realized he had been knocked out, then dragged to the other side of the garage - away from the door back inside or the gate into the yard. The metal, yielding surface he had been slammed into was the garage's shutter-door.

After a second, Adam realized the hound was clutching his pistol.

"The fuck you playing at?!" the jaguar tried to growl, but he was interrupted by another coughing fit.

"Open your mouth again," said someone else, "and I'll break it."

Adam looked over and realized the malamute was right next to him. Baseball bat in paw, and a furious expression on his darkly marked face.

It was Chris, however, who spoke next. "I put up with you treating us like shit for years." The wolfhound lazily raised the pistol to aim it directly at Adam's face, gesturing with it. "But there are lines you don't cross, Adam. There are fucking lines!"

Adam stared, the unpleasant beginnings of an emotion he was unused to, either faking or truly actualizing, starting to fester. "You fuckin' crazy?" he blustered. "I'm gonna-!"

The bat slammed into his face, and Adam recoiled into the garage door again with a loud cry. It hit him again, this time on the shoulder.

"Don't even fuckin' move," Chris snapped. "I won't even blink if I gotta pull this trigger. You get it? Sit there and shut up for once. Dickless bitch."

Something about the canine's tone froze Adam up inside. Normally, his pride and anger would've guaranteed the jaguar would've tried something. Gone into full ass-kicking mode. But somehow he realized that, if he let that happen right now, he was going to die.

Chris, the wolfhound he had thought was nothing more than a lowlife taking advantage of homeless kids, was a claw's-width from killing him. He'd seriously pull the trigger.

Clutching at his muzzle, Adam glowered at the hound.

Then he realized what the smell was. Gasoline. Pungent. Cloying.

All over him. Everywhere!

Oh, those motherfuckers-!

Chris shook his head, still brandishing the firearm. "Only a fuckin' piece of bird-shit like you would threaten a kid," he murmured. "A fuckin' kid that I took off the street, gave a home, called my fuckin' brother. He's better than you, dickless. I don't give a shit what you think you are in your tiny world, but no asshole gets away with what you did."

After a moment, Adam couldn't help it. He sneered. "You ain't gonna kill me." Then he flinched as Jack raised the bat again.

However, Chris waved him off. "Shit no," the hound admitted. "I'm not a piece of shit like you. But I don't gotta do it myself." He glared for a second. "What's wrong with you, huh? You think all this shit means jack-shit? I know dickhead punks like you, ever since I was a kid. You had everything, more than your fucked-up ass deserved, and you think you're tough because you can point a gun at a kid who never had shit."

Adam snorted derisively. "Whatever. You don't know me, mother-fucker. Fuckin' nobody, that's what you are. You're fuckin' dead."

"Nah." Chris' voice had dropped to a whisper. "I'm a somebody. I'm gonna be a somebody to other people for a long time. Nick and Chase? They're somebody. Someone gives a shit about us. Even if it's just the rest of us. Maybe we all we got, but at least it's real. You? Well, we'll fuckin' see."

"Yeah. Maybe we'll catch your ass on the news, fuckin' coward." Jack swung the bat again. This time, there was an explosive burst of pain and Adam fell back with a cry. He felt his teeth dislodge in his gums, felt them shatter and splinter into the back of his throat.

Grabbing at his muzzle, the pain paralyzing, he could only watch as the two nobodies stalked away, crossing the garage to the door back into the house.

With slow, deliberate movements, Chris pulled something from his track-pants, stepping back to the piled furniture and detritus set scarcely a few feet from where Adam lay, clutching at his bloody mouth. With a flick, a small flame erupted from the little metal object the wolfhound had withdrawn.

Adam's eyes widened. He suddenly remember the smell.

He felt it in his fur. The wetness. A slick, pungent chemical. The fire-!

With a cry, Adam scrambled backwards, slamming into the metal shutter. He crawled into the corner, as far from the coming conflagration as possible.

"Are you fuckin' crazy!" The feline howled, desperately shoving himself further into the cobweb filled corner, his sneakers scrabbling uselessly at the concrete beneath him. Blood and shards of teeth gagged him, oozing disturbingly both down his throat and out his agonized muzzle.

His focus on the wolfhound preparing to set him, and the entire house, ablaze, Adam never noticed the bat-wielding Jack step in again. This time, the blow sent him sprawling, smacking his head off the concrete floor.

His vision swam, steadily growing darker.

But, as he watched the silhouette of the two nobodies, and the fatal flame held aloft by one of them, fade into a dull nothing, a peculiar voice, one that sounded like his own, murmured a dispassionate, resigned observation in the back of his head.

So, it said calmly, this is how it feels...

Chris locked the door behind them, and he briskly followed his younger companion onto the street. Unsurprisingly, tiny snowflakes were starting to descend from the sky as yet another snowy evening prepared to fall upon them.

"What now, man?" Jack said, his voice strangely shaky.

Jack had done many things in his life, but he had changed so much in only a year or so - this act of possible murder hadn't been easy for the malamute, Chris knew. It wasn't easy for him either.

"No clue." Chris spotted the jaguar's cheap, white car, and he started towards it. "Come on."

Obediently, Jack followed, his stride hurried. Desperate to flee. But Chris stopped at the car's side.

His eyes losing focus.

"Yo?" Jack urged. But Chris merely swallowed. "Chris...? What now?"

The wolfhound shut his eyes. "It's all gone, man," he whispered. "Everything I wanted it to be." He shook his head slowly. "Kyle dead. Nick gone... even Chase ran, man."

For a moment, Jack was nonplussed. He fidgeted with the baseball bat. "Wh-what're you saying?"

"Jack, kid... it's over." The wolfhound sighed. "All over, man. It was never about this. I fucked everythin' up. For everybody."

Jack swallowed. "Wh-what-? Nah, no you- What the fuck you sayin', man?" The teenager shuffled nervously, casting a glance behind him. "Look, we gotta move! I don't wanna screw around here. House could still go up!"

With a snort, Chris looked over his shoulder at the shitty hovel he had stayed in for many years now. His late foster dad's bungalow; it had been his home, and ever since... it had been the home to a whole bunch of others too.

Chris knew how it all looked, but it had never been about exploitation. At least, not to him. He had never made a single cent off the boys. That just wouldn't be right. All the money from everything they did went straight into bills, or straight back to them - and of course he didn't sell any videos of them; who'd buy that shit with the Internet out there? How fucked up would it be to even think of that? Letting some assholes who didn't even know them get off on them like that?

No, that wasn't what it was about. It was stupid screwing around. It brought them closer. It helped them accept themselves and what they felt for each other. For themselves. It was more a question of pointing them in the right direction and saying they could do what they wanted than trying to make them do anything.

But Chris had known for a long time what he was doing was wrong - the decision to help he had made when he was sixteen, it took him until his twenties to realize he was doing it so wrong. By then, it was too late.

They meant everything to him. They were the work he'd spend his life on. He would never turn on his brothers. Never sell them out. Never betray or abandon them. They were his lost boys, and it meant too much to him to know he was giving them a home. Things got tough, life got harder, but they pulled through together. They fought on, maybe in the wrong direction, but they did it together - happily.

But then he laid hands on Chase, and Chris knew already he could never forgive himself. No going back from breaking _that_promise. It was all gone.

"Place been gone a long time, bro."

Jack's muzzle had fallen open. "What... what are you talkin' about?"

"Listen." Chris shook himself out of his pointless reverie. "You gotta get out of this shit, man. I know it won't be easy, I know. But you gotta turn yourself in."

The malamute stepped back. "What?!"

But Chris just smirked. "Nah, listen. You're seventeen. If you go now, they'll help you. If you wait, you'll get nothing - you'll be an 'adult.'" He snorted darkly. "Whatever the fuck that means. But you gotta go man, there's no future like this. No life in this shit. I'm sorry."

Stupidly, Jack stared. "I... Chris, for real?"

"Yeah, man."

The teen swallowed, his eyes suddenly wild. "I-!"

"You can do it. You're ready, dude. That's all I could do. That's all I could ever fuckin' do for you. Give you guys the chance to do things right." Chris squared himself. "You ain't stupid, bro. You're one of the best guys I've ever known. You been there to help me through anything, you stayed with me when everyone else did the smart thing and got outta here - now I'm askin' ya to help yourself."

Jack floundered, stepping away. His dark, yellow eyes started to water, and he blinked.

Chris suddenly realized he had never seen the teen cry. Through a thousand heartfelt talks, touching on the most sensitive of topics, he had never seen it happen even once.

"Wh-what about you?" Jack said softly, blinking rapidly.

An evil grin came to Chris' muzzle, and he dusted his paws on his hoodie. "How much illicit shit you think he got in here, huh?" He nodded at the car. "I think I'll just park round the corner from the local pig-farm and call it in."

The malamute gave a quavering laugh. "Shit yeah. Y-you gonna leave him in there?"

Chris shrugged. "Don't give a shit," he admitted.

"Shit, I thought you were really gonna barbecue his ass."

"Naw. Just want that little bitch to think on his headache for awhile." Chris had made sure to heavily dilute the gasoline he had taken from work, so his plan to scare the asshole jaguar didn't result in an explosion. With the open-backed garage, he was fairly sure Adam would be able to breathe. "He'll wake up soon."

"We don't got much time then."

"Yeah." Chris reached into his pocket. He pulled out an old leather wallet and handed it to the teen - it didn't slip his attention that Jack's paws were shaking. "Take it, man. Here." Quickly, he flipped open the jaguar's wallet too. "Hoo, rich boy."

Jack blinked at the bills. "Wh-what the fuck, man?"

"It's pretty much all my savings." The wolfhound smiled. "It ain't much. Don't fuckin' spend it right up, okay? Get a deposit box or something, fuckin' save it, use it right."

"But... shit! What about you?" Jack's eyes narrowed. "Don't even fuckin' joke, bro. You're goin' nowhere!"

All of a sudden, Chris had to sniff. Where had that come from? "Nah, it ain't that. I'm not jumpin' off a bridge any time soon. But... I won't need that stuff, man."

"What's gonna happen to you?" breathed Jack, swaying slightly. "I don't believe this shit, man!"

"Yeah. Well, it's happening. I dunno. We'll see where it goes, huh? Somethin' gotta change. Chase knew that; we gonna pretend we don't see it?"

Setting his jaw, Jack stepped forward, almost aggressively. He thrust out a pawful of bills.

"Dude, I'm prob'ly goin' to jail for a long time." Chris didn't move at all. "No point. You take it."

The malamute grit his teeth. "Fuck no!" he snapped. "Fuck, no way! Yes there is a damn point! Don't you start with this shit!" His free paw clenched into a fist. "You think Nick, or fuckin' Chase, or_Kyle_ would forgive me?! You think I don't care about them too?!"

Slowly, Chris reached up. Placing a paw atop the malamute's, he pushed it down gently. "Man, the Jack I met three years ago would never have said that."

"Yeah, well he fuckin' grew up!" Jack growled, thrusting that paw out again. "I'm not gonna screw you over like this. You get your life together too! Don't just fuckin' pass the buck to me!"

After a moment, Chris wiped his eye with one paw... and accepted the offered cash with the other. "Alright, man..." he whispered. "Whatever you say." He smiled sadly. "See ya around, Jack."

"Whatever..." Jack swore. "I don't believe this..." He looked away.

"Before I forget..." Chris pulled a cell-phone from his pocket. The one he gave to Chase. "Here. It's got Chase's message on it, from before he bailed." Jack nodded. "Check out the guy he mentioned. Maybe he'll help you, if Nick thinks he's so awesome. Save some of that cash for the others if you ever catch them."

"Yeah." Jack sniffed and staggered backwards. "So, what? You gonna take Adam's wheels and turn his ass in to the police?"

"That's the plan."

"... We ain't never gonna meet again, huh."

"... That's the plan. Yeah."

The wind picked up briefly, and the two males stood in silence for a moment. Inhaling the delicate snowflakes, exhaling plumes of mist. Jack still clutched his baseball bat, letting it dangle loosely from his paws.

Words couldn't come to either of them.

Jack had been there since the start. As had Kyle.

It was time to say goodbye.

"Jack, man," murmured Chris. "Better hit it. Don't get seen - those rules still matter. No names. Stay low. Look after each other. Use the fuckin' thing between your ears. Always gonna matter."

The teen nodded. "Whatever... see ya, Chris..." It took him several moments more to actually step away. He took a few more staggering steps, still shaking his head. Eventually, he turned, throwing his bat over to the garden of what used to be his home. Wiping his eyes just once, he started to jog.

After a few seconds, he started to sprint.

Chris felt his heart stop, then suddenly leap high into the sky. A warm, gentle feeling settled over him. He knew what it was called - despite their roughness, their crude language, he and the boys had never lied about what it was. They had admitted it to each other before. They didn't bother lying about it.

It was love. The guiding star of everything he had done for the last few years - it wasn't always the best guide, but sometimes it didn't have to be.

Smiling, he pulled a jangling set of keys out of his pocket, and started looking for the right one. When he found it, he delved back into the pocket, looking for one of the many cell-phones he had taken off the unconscious dealer.

It was overdue, but now that star had taken him the right direction.

His entire body was tingling. Vaguely, he was aware he was trembling still. His head throbbed and everything seemed hazy.

Group was over. He was alone in the room now - the ferret had ordered him to remain seated until he returned. Nick was in no mood to disobey.

It was certainly the worst group session since he'd returned. Wadlow had made him the focus of the entire thing, something that had never really been done before.

Everyone in the room had torn him apart over the course of an hour. To Nick's shock, even Garret joined in. It confused him. It hurt. When the counselor threatened punishment, Nick finally gave up. He wasn't even sure why he was trying to fight anymore.

So he did what they wanted. He told them everything. He 'participated'. Everything they wanted to hear and wanted him to say, whatever they all asked. They spat it all back in his face. He had no choice but to accept it all.

With an unusual zeal, even for him, the counselor had drawn the focus to Nick's sexuality. Asking when he "decided" he was a queer. The others had gladly taken it from there: did he want to let old males rape him? Did he think it was normal? Was he a pussy? Did he let himself be raped in the park that day...? Was that what he wanted?

Was he fucked in the head? Could he ever be fixed?

Questions for which Nick hadn't answers. He didn't know anymore. Everything he believed about himself was just...

All the doubts and confusion that weighed him down already were rolled up and used to beat him to tears. Nick just sat there and accept it; they were right. All he could do was wait for them to finish.

But when it was over, it wasn't over. After a thoughtful moment, Wadlow ordered an end to the session. Just as Nick dared to feel relieved, the counselor specifically ordered him to stay behind. So, as the others shuffled out in muted silence, Nick remained seated on his armless, plastic chair.

Staring at the floor, almost motionless. A paw gripping his bony, tawny furred knee. Squeezing it nervously.

What was going on? What had he done now? Shit...

Fidgeting slightly, Nick glanced at the room's window. It faced into the grounds, and only the pale evening light illuminated the empty courtyard. It was still early. The others were off to chores or seminars, he supposed. Wouldn't be time for evening exercises for a little while.

Several minutes passed before he heard paws approach the door.

Regardless, he jumped when the silver handle turned and the door was pushed open.

With a serious expression on his rounded face, Wadlow strode into the room. Behind him followed the lynx guard, and Nick felt his pulse begin to race almost immediately.

The lynx shut the door behind him. Silently, he pulled over a plastic chair while Wadlow simply sat in his own soft, cushioned one.

It was like a little throne, Nick thought, compared to the things they made the kids sit on.

"Nick, come a little closer, please." Wadlow asked, leafing through a small stack of papers.

Confused, Nick took a few seconds to get up. He took a step towards the adults - but a bout of uncertainty struck. Was he supposed to stand in front of them? What did they want? He hesitated.

"Bring your chair closer, Nick," said Wadlow, impatient. "Come on."

His heart skipping a beat, Nick moved behind his chair and pushed it closer, making sure it didn't scrape over the carpet. Subconsciously, he kept his posture low.

Suddenly, he realized what this was... He was in very deep shit. He had to be. This was an Intervention. That's what they called it. Usually there was more than just two counselors, maybe some higher level boys too.

An Intervention was a meeting called when a kid kept being disruptive or doing something wrong. When they kept being bad, or acting up, breaking the rules or not doing their chores. Nick had had a few called before - and when they were pushing him to tell where his friends were, that was like one, only it was just two of them and they did it in the seclusion room.

Now it was the same two again...

Sitting down again, Nick realized his eyes were starting to water.

This was about the fight. He hadn't done anything else, had he? He'd been trying to be... They didn't need to do anything! He was already sorry!

At last, Wadlow cleared his throat. "Nick, we wanted to talk to you about your progress."

The kit sniffed. "W-what?"

"Excuse me?" In an instant, the counselor's voice went cold.

Nick tensed. "I didn't mean it..." he whispered. "N-nothin'."

The adults just stared at him balefully. "Nick, we've spoken about your language before. I'll gladly give you some PEs to remind you. Or you can stay outside for a few hours. Do you want that?"

"N-no, sir." The cheetah jerkily swiped at his nose.

Being locked outside meant being forced to stand or sit in the middle of the yard until he was allowed to move. It was a serious punishment. Depending on the counselor in charge, he'd have to do something or hold a position for that entire time - if he moved or screwed up, they'd reset the time. Considering Nick only had a pair of shorts and his orange t-shirt on, he definitely didn't want that. There was no guarantee he would be allowed to keep the shirt, either, depending on how cruel Wadlow was feeling. That'd happened before, with his last group counselor.

"Then mind your manners. We've told you enough times." Wadlow shook his head. "That aside, Nick. Your participation today was a major step. You haven't participated like that before. Is that right?"

After a few baffled seconds, Nick nodded.

"Good. You should be proud of yourself, Nick. Accepting criticism for your past mistakes is the only way to redemption. Do you know what that means?"

Nick nodded again.

"Very good." Coughing again, the possum glanced once more at his papers, then sat forward on his chair. "I believe it is time to talk about moving you back to level one."

The cheetah blinked.

"As you know, promotion to another level can only be done after a Next-Step meeting. Five staff, and a consultation with your Group. So I just wanted to discuss the issue with yourself and Mister Hickman tonight."

The kit stared at the floor, bewildered.

They had to be fuckin' with him.

A Next-Step meeting was... well, the opposite of an Intervention. He had only heard the term before; he had never thought they'd ever...

"_Have_you decided to participate in your program, Nick?" The possum shifted slightly. "Do you still want to improve yourself, like you told me a few days ago?"

Taking a few seconds to recover, Nick gave a third nod. "Yeah. Yes, sir."

"I suppose that time outside did make a difference after all."

The lynx was frowning. "I'm not convinced."

"I understand, Mister Hickman." Wadlow shrugged. "But we're only talking about bringing Nick to level one; which is only where I'd expect from a delinquent youth first coming here to be. He wouldn't be gaining any privileges."

"It ain't that," Hickman grumbled in his execrable accent. "Ever since Nick has got here, he's been disruptive, unpredictable and aggressive to everyone." Nick felt a chill. "If he's put back to level one, he'll just be more of a danger to the others. I don't think a few weeks makes up for everything else."

"Hm. Nick, this is the consequence of your behavior. You see? Now you have to deal with it."

Nick drooped in his chair - aware he was being scrutinized as he did. He just felt heavy and tired all over.

It would never happen. It'd never be good for him here.

But Wadlow continued to think. Oblivious. "I think we'll have to revisit the issue. We can organize a proper meeting for sometime next week; I believe you can do it, Nick. I think anyone can become a better person, if they want to. That's why I do this. For boys like you.

"I think you can graduate your program, and that you'll make be a productive young member of society. But the program is the only way, Nick. You're not ready yet; you need help. Isn't that right?"

Slowly, Nick inclined his head.

It was true. He couldn't do shit. He was useless at everything. Nobody even wanted him as their kid. Everything he did was a fuck-up.

"I need you to think about that, Nick." Wadlow leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. "I believe you know it's the truth, deep down." The possum waited a moment. "Tomorrow, you'll be having your first visitation. Your first visitor."

... What?

"Personally, Nick, I don't think you're ready for visitors. I don't think you're ready, and I don't think you've earned it. I think it's bad for you at this stage, just as I thought it was bad for your social worker to take you away before, but we let him. I don't think you're ready for the distraction, and I think you need to realize that you deserve to be here before we start giving you the chance to manipulate others." Wadlow's face was expressionless. "Your social worker is bringing the person you stayed with to speak to you; ignoring everything we've told him about how it's bad for you. I don't think he cares. I think he's going to try and get you adopted out of here, and I think that's a very bad idea. I think you know as well as I do that it'll be bad for you. You know you were a very bad, out of control boy, Nick. You were heading straight into an early grave, and you'll do it again if you don't let us help you. Nothing's changed yet, Nick. You have to stay and work your program."

The kit felt like lead. He couldn't even bring himself to nod again.

"Your only chance is to stay here until you have graduated the program. You know it. I know it. Everyone in your Group will say the same thing. They already have, haven't they?" The counselor paused. "I want you to think about that, when you're talking to your social worker tonight."

Slowly, Nick looked up.

"What do you think, Mister Hickman?" Wadlow asked the other adult. "Do you agree?"

Without hesitation, the lynx gave a deep nod. "Definitely. I also agree that Nick isn't ready for visitors yet. I think this is all a massive distraction for him. I don't think he needs the temptation or the confusion. It ain't good for a kid like you, Nick. Not yet. If it were up to me, your social worker wouldn't be coming here either."

A ball of sour tension knotted Nick's insides, and he froze as Wadlow suddenly looked straight into his eyes.

"Nick," the grownup stated, his face expressionless, "you're not ready. This will just make things worse for you. You're being given a choice I don't think you're ready for. So think carefully, Nick. Because we want to help you... but you have to want to help yourself, and not take the easy way out. Because you know what will happen in the end. Think about it."

Nick forgot to breathe.

The rain had let up, but the chill still hung in the air. Twilight had fallen, and the forest beyond the twelve-foot fence was masked by an ominous, fairy tale darkness. Czejak rubbed his paws together, trying vainly to keep them warm as he was led across the exercise yard by the stocky fox.

So far as he knew, the fox counselor was the one in charge of the brutal exercise sessions the youths endured daily. It was the fox who greeted him more often than not at the front gate, always with the same cold, unfriendly attitude.

Czejak doubted the fiery vulpine was so cold with the helpless teenagers he ran into the ground every night.

Familiar as it was, the coyote didn't bother to look around at the facility. He was used to the ranch's oddly dreary appearance. Whether coated in snow, obscured by the haze of rain or bathed in sunlight, he knew what it looked like, and he didn't want to see it any more.

As they walked through the main building and past the refectory, Czejak spotted a pair of canine girls in their late teens, level fours judging by the fact they were in regular clothing, mopping the linoleum with zero enthusiasm.

The fox led him straight to the interview room, the room specifically laid out for meetings with social workers - the only visitors Wilder Springs could not refuse access... to only a select few of their young residents, that was. Sometimes. Not for lack of trying.

Czejak was more than glad for that; despite the facility's insistence, he was able to stay firm, and demand to be able to see his charges. It was Wilder Springs' one weakness, the one ray of light that pierced the dark isolation it forced upon its inmates: if they took wards of the state as given to them by the government, the youths' appointed social workers, if they had any, had every right to visit as they saw fit.

Not all of the facilities like Wilder Springs accepted such youths. Usually, they only accepted the children of the wealthy or middle-class. Children whose parents had money, could afford sending their children to these places, to have their independence and 'rebelliousness' stamped out - such as their refusal to accept the family religion, or whatever behavior the manipulative marketing of the 'troubled-teen' industry could frighten prospective customer-parents about.

Meanwhile, the poor youths who were genuinely on the track to delinquency and worse were left to suffer and fall to their circumstances. Unless, of course, the government could pay for their 'rehabilitation.'

Czejak shook his head.

"Here we are." The fox's voice was dulled, gesticulating at the interview room door. "Do you need anything?"

"No thank you." Czejak hefted his briefcase. "I have everything I need. Nick's never any trouble."

"So you say. He has some duties to do after you're finished; if you don't mind, don't take too long."

"Alright. Thank you."

The fox nodded and left, and Czejak pushed the wooden door open.

Once more, the familiar sight. Nick was seated on the far side of the small white desk, his arms folded, hunched over and contemplating his fingers, it seemed. As usually, he was garbed in the garish orange t-shirt that declared his status here, and he was clad in black shorts despite the frigid weather. As usual, the tawny, spotted boy's legs were secured beneath the table.

But something was very wrong, Czejak realized instantly.

The kit's expression was blank as his therapist and social worker took the opposite seat.

"Good evening, Nick," Czejak murmured softly. "How are you?"

Nick thought for a moment, then glanced up. "I'm okay..."

"I'm glad to hear it." The coyote sat his briefcase down. "Before we start, is there anything you want to talk to me about?"

The cheetah kit shifted. "... Yeah."

"What's up, then?"

Nick froze briefly; Czejak could see his eyes flitting over the white expanse of the desk before him. "I-I... I'm sorry. I've been really mani-manipulating..."

Czejak felt a twinge of annoyance in his head. He decided to go on the offensive. See just how well they had coached him.

"How were you being manipulative, Nick?" he asked, keeping his tone gentle. He folded his own arms on the desk.

Nick squirmed slightly. "I just was." He licked his lips and kept his gaze affixed on the center of the table. Atop his head, his ears were drooping, and behind him his tail was motionless and limp. "I shouldn't be crying and stuff like that."

"Nick, when we're upset or stressed out or scared, it's normal to cry." Czejak leaned closer. "If you really felt sad, or stressed, or scared, it's okay to cry. It's not manipulation - and only you know if it was real or not." The coyote smiled sadly. "But let's not worry about that right now. We have more fun stuff to do."

"Like what?" the boy mumbled.

"For one thing, I brought some books for you." Czejak grinned. "Do you remember I said I'd teach you to read?"

Somberly, Nick gave a nod.

"Well, we can't forget that. Can't forget that at all. And I have to ask you some very important questions." The coyote paused. "You can guess what it's about, right?"

"Yeah."

"But we'll deal with that later. Czejak pulled his briefcase up onto the desk. He forced a smile. "Let's do the fun stuff first, yeah?"

Nick nodded belatedly. He was distracted and depressed, Czejak could see instantly. A heavy weight settled in the coyote's chest.

"Can we talk about the other thing, first?"

"I suppose so, Nick. What's on your mind?"

But Nick didn't seem to know what to say. He rubbed his nose with a bandaged paw. After a few moments, he opened his mouth. "What's happening tomorrow?"

"Well. I'll be coming back, with Gary. He wants you to come back to stay with him, Nick, and he wants to come all this way to ask you, and to ask if you'll forgive him too."

"... When are you coming?"

"I think we'll be here at about this time tomorrow."

"Okay."

Czejak waited a few seconds. "Do you want to see him again, Nick?"

"... No."

"I know." Czejak interlaced his paws. "Nick, I know what you're thinking; but can you do one thing for me? Please?"

"What?"

"Tell him how you feel. To his face." He paused. "Just look at him, and see how you really feel then. Then tell him."

Nick was utterly immobile.

"I know it won't be easy. But I need to know this is really what you want. He really is sorry - and you were getting along okay until he did that stupid thing, weren't you?"

The cheetah took a deep, quiet breath.

"I know you're still angry about what he did. I wouldn't normally do something like this, I swear. You have every right to be angry, Nick."

All of a sudden, Nick shook his head. "I'm not angry."

"Okay. Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

Nick fidgeted. The chains below the desk clinked softly. "I don't know..."

Czejak waited. Just watching. Thinking. But the boy across the desk from him refused to move, or volunteer anything else. "Nick?"

The kit licked his muzzle. Then he murmured something, his jaw moving, but Czejak couldn't make out a word.

"What was that, Nick?" the counselor asked, leaning forwards. Nick bit his lip, looking up and meeting Czejak's eyes at last. The gray orbs shimmered with uncertain tears, and his lip quivered almost imperceptibly. But Czejak noticed. "What's the matter?"

With a disturbing snort, Nick cleared his nose. He opened and shut his muzzle several times, fighting with whatever words he wanted to force out. "I dunno wha' to do," he whispered. Almost a plea.

"... I know, Nick." Smiling, Czejak placed his paws down on the table's surface and leaned closer. "I don't know what to do either, for me or for you. But I can promise you one thing..."

"Wh-what?" Nick's fought away a grimace.

"Whatever happens tomorrow, needs to happen. You get to make a real choice tomorrow, an important one. I'm only asking that you face your choices, Nick. Don't be scared. Whatever you decide... I'll be there for you."

For several moments, Nick puzzled his way through that. With a serious face, the kit nodded. "I know..." he quavered. "I know."

"I'll_always_ be there for you, as long as you want me there."

"Yeah, yeah. ... I know."

The doors were locked, and the lights were out. Still, Karl did one final round through the boys dormitory wing, keeping his footsteps quiet as he ambled down the carpeted corridors.

He wasn't entirely sure why. The boys and the girls had been escorted to their rooms and locked in for the night. A measure of privacy that could almost be considered a mercy, given they were under such strict surveillance the rest of the time.

At long last, Karl was starting to understand the reasoning behind the myriad rules that governed everything from speech to when and where one of the boys or girls could look. When they could enter or leave rooms.

He understood the reasoning, but that didn't mean he agreed in the slightest.

Locking the youths up in their tiny rooms, with next to nothing in them, and even their shoes taken away from them, was intended to keep disruptive kids from inconveniencing the others, or from being able to do any damage. It was also to keep them isolated at night - no communication.

Restricting communication between the inmates was a task the staff took very seriously, Karl realized. When he asked the possum counselor about it, the explanation had chilled him to the bone.

"Well," the cordially smiling counselor had began, "the big problem with government jails and detention centers is that those who are sent there are able to talk freely, pass on tricks of the trade. Often, they come out as even worse than when they went in. We are far more intensive and careful than the government - of course." Karl had only nodded somberly. Then, Wadlow took the unprecedented step of offering more information. "It's the same with our uniform policy. Clothes and haircuts aren't just accessories or clothing to these kids; they're statements, attitudes. Attitudes we don't accept in here. We want them to leave behind their old ways and lives, and this is the best way to do it. All those influences are completely removed, and there are no unhealthy distractions."

Of course, controlling the youths' access to shoes also meant they couldn't run away very well. The camp was surrounded by rough, forested terrain, and they were miles from even a slightly used road.

Jesus...

Just thinking about it now made Karl shiver as he turned down the final corridor.

He'd worked in the mental health system. Dealing with the young patients there had been life changing for him, and he thought he knew about how depersonalizing, how horrible it was for them to be so restricted. So closely monitored. It was always a fine balance to walk, between giving the patients the supervision and care they needed, and making them feel like trash. A balance Wilder Springs didn't seem to acknowledge. Extremely tight control was their priority.

Some of the things they did here were so... Karl wasn't even sure what to call it. They still kept him away from many things; somehow, he knew this place was even worse than it appeared to him. That was the only thing that could explain-

Suddenly, he came to a halt, his ears pricked. The sound was soft and muffled, but Karl's hearing was particularly sharp - he prided himself on it, in fact.

Someone was crying.

With a frown, he checked his watch. It was eleven-forty; long after lights out. Secluded in their darkened rooms, none of the boys should be awake. Not that he could blame any of them for crying...

Listening carefully, he found himself inching towards one door in particular. His big paws almost tripped on the sneakers and cheap flip-flops kept outside the door, but he managed to keep his balance and look into the room.

Even in the gloom, he recognized the kid.

Garret, clad in only a pair of plaid boxer shorts, was sitting on the edge of his bed, drooped right over, head between his knees. His face concealed by his paws, the teen was the classic image of despair.

Something tweaked in Karl's head. He wasn't going to walk away from this sight.

He reached out and tapped softly on the door's window. Beyond, he saw Garret react instantly, his head snapping up. Karl just smiled and unbolted the door, being careful to avoid making noise.

When he stepped into the tiny room, Garret was watching him with fearful eyes. "I'm sorry!" he whispered, sniffing. "I- I- Th-there's no one here. I thought I could... I-I'm sorry!"

Karl raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about? I just wanted to see if you were okay."

The teenager rubbed at his eyes. "Mister Wadlow... said that we're not supposed to cry... I thought, if I'm alone..."

"What's wrong, Garret?" Karl asked. "Do you want to talk about it?" After a moment, the wolf nodded, so Karl sat down beside him. "Okay. What's the matter?"

"I don't know..." whimpered Garret, rubbing at his eyes. "I don't know. Everything hurts, I feel sick, and I can't sleep. I feel really hot..."

Karl smiled. "Well, you ain't bad looking, but I wouldn't go that far." The joke fell flat, as he partially expected. "How do you mean, Garret? It's a cold night. Do you think you have a fever?"

"I don't know..." The teen scrunched his eyes shut and bit back a sob. "I can't sleep. I have a headache."

The leopard reached out. "Don't freak out, just going to try and feel your temperature." He gently touched the boy's ear. "... Garret, buddy, you're freezing."

"I don't feel it..." Garret swallowed.

"I can feel your heartbeat in your ear too. Are you okay? What happened?"

For a moment, the wolf boy didn't reply. When he did speak, his voice was shaky and soft. "Mister Kincaid took us for EEDs." He swallowed. "I-I couldn't finish, so he made me stay back and do more."

"What did he make you do?"

Garret ran a paw over his head. Karl could clearly see the kid was shaking.

"He was pretty pissed off at me... Told me to take off my shirt. Got me to run a few laps and stay in the pushup position for ages. Planks or somethin'."

The leopard blinked. "Told you to take...? It's freezing out there tonight."

"I was just wearing shorts. I got really hot though, from all the running." Garret sniffled again. "I just... I can't do this!" There a sudden whine, and the wolf boy started to cry again. "I can't do it! I jus'-! Wanna go home..."

"Hey, hey, it's alright." Karl shifted a little closer instinctively, searching for something appropriate to say. It wasn't easy.

The boy didn't pull away. He just fidgeted slightly.

Karl tried to think. It was possible that Garret was simply overexerted. Maybe wracked with mild hypothermia.

"I'm sorry..." the adult found himself murmuring. "I couldn't take you and Nick today. Sorry..." Garret just took a trembling breath, sobbing quietly to himself. "Listen, Garret. I know you think you're overheating, but I think your brain is just playing tricks on you. Do you mind if I get you under your covers, or in some pajamas? If you got any."

Garret froze for a moment. Karl knew he wanted to say no, that he felt too hot or stuffy, but was afraid to. Locked up, the wolf boy just continued to cry.

So Karl shifted closer, and laid a strong arm over the teenager's surprisingly bony shoulders - what little body fat the wolf had when he arrived had been stripped off in mere days. To his surprise, Garret didn't flinch or pull away. Instead, he shifted closer.

Within moments, Garret was clinging to him weakly, crying on his chest pathetically...

"It's alright, kid." The orderly gave the shivering body a brief squeeze. "Just let it out. C'mon."

In response, Garret clutched at him. Desperate for comfort; for someone, anyone to be there for him after all that had happened. Even someone he didn't really know. Even someone he probably couldn't trust.

Karl closed his eyes and sighed internally. He was fairly sure he'd be here all night at this rate; at least until the distraught teen could finally succumb to the exhaustion.

He lost track of time, just focusing on murmuring gentle reassurances and holding the kid's shivering body. Eventually, Garret's sobs seemed to quiet down, and his breathing started to slow. He could feel the underwear-clad boy's skin beneath his fur; cold and clammy. With nothing better to do, Karl let Garret cry himself out.

At long last, the kid fell silent, still leaning against leopard's side and chest for support.

"Do you feel any better?" Karl asked.

Garret nodded. "Y-yeah..." He took a deep breath.

"Do you think you can sleep yet?" A lethargic headshake. "Well, do you need anything? I think you might need some water or something."

The wolf snorted. "Can we talk for a bit?"

"About what?"

"I dunno. Anything..." Garret shifted slightly, but didn't draw away. "Wh-what did you do before you came here?"

"Oh, now that's a story and a half." The leopard chuckled. "You sure you want me to get started?"

"... Yeah."

"Well... we don't got all night, so I'll just give you the short version. Before I came here, I worked in a psychiatric ward at a state hospital as an orderly. Pretty much what I'm doing now, I guess." The leopard gave a wry snort. "In some ways. Before that, I was a private military contractor. Spent some time in Africa during the civil war there some years ago, if you remember that."

Garret nodded. "You were a soldier?"

"Kind of. I was in the Marines for a few years when I was younger. Never really liked it. Finished my two years, became a bouncer in a club... Then I got the contractor position." Karl shrugged. "I guess I've always been a glorified security guard."

"Sounds pretty cool."

"It ain't." The leopard thought for a moment, still loosely holding the teenager to him. "So... uh. What about you, Garret? What's your story? Anything to look forward to when you get out of here? Hobbies or anything?"

"No..." Garret shook his head slowly. "I want to see my friends."

"I know how that feels."

The teenager sniffed again. "I was s'posed to crash at my best friend's place tomorrow... We were gonna play basketball and then just hang out. Play some games. It was his birthday a week ago."

Karl raised an eyebrow to himself, and just waited for the wolf to continue.

"I-I was asleep.." Garret's voice quavered. "We'd fought a few times but nobody told me... My step-dad came into my room when I was asleep and woke me up. I-I freaked out; there were these two big guy next to him, all by my bed. Th-the asshole just said 'get up, Garret, you're going with these guys. Now.'

"He just walked away, and they told me to get out of bed. I was just in my b-boxers, man. They didn't let me move, they got some clothes and told me my parents had packed a bag for me already. If I didn't do as they said they were gonna handcuff me and drag me."

Karl stared at the top of the boy's head.

"I tried to get away at first, but they were holding me real tight. They put me in the back of their car and took my shoes off. One of them sat in the back with me, and said if I did anything else they'd cuff me... He made me lie down on my front with my arms under me. They didn't hit me or nothing but they..." Garret's voice was slowly increasing in pitch. "I-I was really scared. I wasn't sure what was happening until they told me."

"What did they tell you?"

The wolf shook his head. "That my parents were sending me to a camp for bad kids or something." He whined. "My neighbors saw me. A bunch of furs saw me and nobody helped. They just stared. They kidnapped me and took me here and it's okay because my step-dad said so. No one stopped them."

"Did you have any trouble with your parents, Garret?" Karl probed gently. "Were you in trouble a lot or anything?"

Garret shook his head again. "No... I wasn't. I didn't do anything. I swear. I'm not like that! My step-dad was a real asshole to me so I stayed out a lot; I came home late, tried to stay away and stuff. He was a total dick to me. He didn't like that I didn't believe in religious stuff... I-I'm an atheist. I don't want to go to church, I don't believe in that stuff." There was a pause. "Whenever I argued with him, he'd just get mad. He wouldn't talk to me, he'd just hit me. He started to hit me and my mom just let him." His voice fell to a whisper now. "My mom just started doing whatever he wanted. I think she just wanted rid of me.

"My gym teacher asked why I couldn't run one day - it was because my step-dad hit my legs with a metal ruler. He saw the bruise. He kept asking me about it, and said he would tell someone. Someone told my step-dad... probably someone from church." Garret held his breath a moment. "I think that's why he sent me here."

The leopard sighed. "I'm sorry, Garret."

"But you can't do anything about it, can you?"

"... I don't think I can."

Lethargically, Garret pushed away. When he looked up at the concerned guard, his eyes were red and haunted, not to mention disturbingly glassy.

"Alright, kid. It's time for you to sleep." Karl rubbed the boy's short head-fur; recently cut upon his arrival to the facility. "Get under the covers, okay? You're freezing, even if you don't feel like it."

"I feel it now..." Slowly, Garret crawled to the top of the tiny bed's thin mattress. The springs beneath squeaked abominably as he did. "... I keep waking up. I keep dreaming they're there when I wake up... Like, even when I haven't woke up yet."

"But they're not, Garret." The leopard smiled sadly. "As shitty as this place is... when you wake up in the morning, you know what to expect. The routine is always the same, right?"

Garret tugged down his blankets, wincing as he did. His muscles were probably painfully stiff and nearly useless. "Not really. E-every day's crazy here... maybe not for you, but for us..."

"I suppose so. But try to get some sleep, alright? It's wakey-wakey at five in the morning, as always. You need to rest." Karl couldn't help it. He bent over and helped the exhausted youth into his bed. Tucking him in.

When he finally collapsed to his back, Garret was looking up at him. His expression unreadable. "I'll try."

"Alright. Good night, Garret."

"Hey."

Karl paused at the doorway and looked back. "Hm?"

"What's a good guy like you doin' in a place like this?" Garret smirked playfully.

With a chuckle, Karl stepped outside and took a hold of the door's edge. "Dunno. I could ask the same of you, bud. Good night."

"Night."

With that, Karl shut the heavy door.

*

** December 10th**

The sound was abhorrent. A twisted, air-rending howl that tore into his sleepy, lulled psyche like a jagged knife.

With a gasp, Gary jolted awake, sitting bolt upright in the car's seat. He looked around wildly, confused at first as to where he was. His heart thumped violently in his chest.

"Are you alright there, Gary?" a familiar voice enquired. Gary looked over to stare in bewilderment at the coyote in the driver's seat. When his brain finally caught up, he looked out onto the road in front, eventually realizing what had woken him.

A semi-trailer had cut in front of their sedan. His sluggish brain eventually clicked that the abominable sound had probably been the truck's protesting brakes.

"Fall asleep, did you?"

The cheetah relaxed in his chair. "I guess I did." A thought came to him, and he shifted slightly. "How long have we been driving?"

"Several hours. Wilder Springs is quite isolated."

Gary grunted, twisting in his seat to look out the passenger window.

The day had started off promising, but it had abruptly taken a turn for the wetter just after they'd left. Still, Gary preferred driving in heavy rain to driving in blizzard conditions.

The rumbling engine, the sound of the tires on the road and the rain upon the windshield... he wasn't surprised that he fell asleep. Not to mention the oppressive, hot stuffiness...

"Unh," he mumbled, rubbing his dry nose. He glanced over at the distracted coyote. "D'you mind turning down the heating?"

Similarly distracted, the coyote seemingly missed it at first. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "Sorry. I tend to overcompensate. My tolerance for the cold has all but vanished in the last few years." Reaching down, he flicked the car's heating down to a more reasonable setting. After a few seconds, Czejak smiled at his passenger. "Are you alright, Gary?"

"Not really." The cheetah shifted, sitting up straight. "My stomach keeps doing back-flips. It's like the Olympic finals here."

"This might be useless, but try to relax, Gary. Everything will be fine."

"Doc, this is going to be the most messed up day in my entire life." Gary exhaled and groaned. "Nothing's fine."

"I know." Czejak slowed the car, then switched lanes, bravely inching out from behind the monolithic semi to the soft snow. "But I think it needs to happen. Nick deserves this at least."

Gary nodded. "You're taking him out if he refuses to go with me, right?"

"... Yes. I don't want to leave him in there. He needs proper counseling and support." The coyote shrugged. "It'll mean a lot more work for me, but that's nothing new. I can't say I would mind having Nick around. Probably."

"Mm." Gary sighed. "Yeah."

"Is there something in particular, Gary? We've still got quite some time to get there, so any questions you have to ask, you should ask now. Once we're around the staff, we have to be very careful what we say. The kids will pay for our mistakes if we're not."

"I know."

"So what's on your mind?"

The cheetah shrugged. "I have no idea, doc. Just nervous I guess. I mean, in a way, this is the most important thing to happen to me since you turned up with him at my door. Since I grew a pair and called you for an appointment. Since I left my parents' house."

"I can imagine." "I guess I'm scared, doc."

"I've been scared since this entire thing started. I know how you feel." Czejak tutted again and flicked the windscreen wipers to full speed. "I think we should stop for some food and a rest. Hopefully the rain will die down. If this still qualifies as rain - it's half frozen."

Gary snorted. "Dream on, doc. Weather's been crap for the last two weeks."

"It's not been too bad. If it starts snowing instead of this slush, we might have a white Christmas for the first time in years."

"That'd be fun. Hopefully my house won't be so empty this Christmas." Gary paused. "Do they still make the kids do all that exercise, even in the rain?"

"As far as I'm aware, it depends on how severe the weather is. They claim it teaches discipline and builds character. They've organized camp-outs at the edge of the grounds and other activities before in some truly abhorrent weather. For the higher level youths, anyway."

"Fun camp-outs or what?"

"I guess your mileage will vary. I'm sure some of the boys find it fun. Personally, I'd sooner stay indoors."

"It's a, uh, unisex facility, right?"

"Yes. The boys and girls are kept separated mostly, and have stricter communication restrictions. They usually don't get to speak to one another. It's not uncommon for some of them to have no spoken communication with the other gender for weeks." The car hit a pothole, and Czejak gave a startled exclamation. "Tsk. I _hate_these roads."

"Where the heck are we, anyway?"

"Quite a ways off the beaten track. Wilder Springs is quite remote, as I said. After all, they don't want it to be easy for any runaways. They want that separation from the rest of society." The coyote sighed, peering through the foggy windshield and dense rain. "There's a small town near here, but I don't remember the turnoff. I think we'll have to forget about food."

"Didn't bring a GPS, did you?" Gary chuckled. "It's alright. I don't think I can eat anyway."

"I brought some sandwiches, Gary. If you don't eat and relax, you're going to feel worse." The coyote's voice was surprisingly firm, though a half-smile had snuck onto his muzzle. "I've done this several times now, you know. Usually, of course, I'm taking a child to their foster parent, not the other way around. They always get a little nervous."

"Don't pick on me, man," Gary groaned, smiling as well. "I'll eat, I'll eat."

"I'm just teasing, Gary. But the more relaxed you are, the better. The staff won't make this easy. You shouldn't even be allowed to visit Nick, as far as they're concerned; he's nowhere near the stage of the program that allows him any visits. Even level threes are supervised intently during visitations, and a counselor is always present. They'll be all over Nick and anything he says." Czejak glanced over at Gary, meeting his eyes with a grave expression. "We'll both have to be prepared for anything they say, the things they'll force Nick to say, and avoid putting Nick into a situation where he'll have to say anything that could get him in trouble. Wilder Springs has been known to cut phone calls, cancel visitations and more the moment one of the youths says anything they disapprove of or mentions anything that could make the facility look bad. He's going to be moderately terrified, Gary. One poor turn of phrase and they'll pull him out of the room."

"But if he agrees, he'll be out of there... Why is he worrying? He's going to be leaving." Gary was perplexed.

"Gary, don't bet on that. I don't have any real grounds to spend more time with him than I have recently - they're letting this meeting happen, Gary. They're giving him a choice, but they've got the final word." Czejak took a slow breath. "Everybody has to stay calm and in control."

Gary swallowed. "Fuck."

"They're probably doing everything they can to make Nick think he should stay with them now."

"Yeah, for thirty-five grand a year, not surprised."

Czejak shook his head. "That's a factor, definitely. But there are invariably true-believers, too. We just need to keep our heads."

In silence, they drove on. The impenetrable rushing sound of the frost-touched rain upon the roof became louder, making further conversation difficult anyway.

Gary shifted in his chair, staring vaguely out the window. So far, he'd seen nothing but grass and trees, and even that was becoming difficult to make out as the sun dipped further toward the horizon.

There was nothing around here.

They were in the middle of nowhere already.

Just like Nick said. Middle of nowhere. No idea where they were, no idea where to run to, even if they could. It chilled Gary's blood just thinking about it.

Just imagining being young again. At home. Maybe even asleep. Relaxing after a stressful week of fighting with his family. Ambushed, awakened in the middle of night, when he was at his most vulnerable. Taken from his home by strangers, threatening to hurt or restrain him if he resisted, and knowing there was no way he could run, nowhere he could go. Taken to a place like Wilder Springs.

His trust in his parents destroyed. The illusion of home as safety, the warm, protective harbor of his parents' love, betrayed forever...

Fuck. It could've happened too, that's what scared him the most. What angered him. Gary's father could've easily decided to get his son "fixed." Especially after that day, when he was seventeen. What was there to stop him? Nothing. No laws or regulations. Save perhaps, maybe, his father was a more decent being than Gary realized - or just didn't know about these places.

"Doc," he grunted at last, making sure to be audible over the hissing rain. A thought coming to him.

At the periphery of his vision, he spied the coyote's ear perk. "Yes?"

"What if Nick says he doesn't want to go with either of us?"

For a moment, the coyote hesitated. "I... Well, I don't know if-"

Gary sighed heavily. "You think that's gonna happen, don't you?"

"... It's possible, Gary. You don't spend a year in a behavior modification facility and emerge unscathed." Czejak shook his head slowly. "As you know, Gary. Well. After you he isn't sure what to think. He blames himself."

"Fuck." Gary thumped a paw on the passenger door. "I made all this shit so much worse, didn't I?"

"Don't blame yourself, Gary. I'm serious." The coyote indicated and switched lanes as the murky, water-blurred outline of an off-ramp slowly became visible. "It's not your fault."

"Nick's a good kid." Gary cursed. "He doesn't deserve this. He's a good kid."

Czejak opened his muzzle, but hesitated. He glanced over at his passenger. "Gary..." he murmured. "This is awkward to say, but given the circumstances I think I should be honest. I was afraid too, when the experiment began." The cheetah raised an eyebrow. "Nick has changed a lot in the last year. You have to understand; when I first met him, he was an aggressive, foul-mouthed boy with a bruised ego. Almost everyone he spoke to, he tried to be as offensive and threatening as possible to them. He wanted nothing to do with anyone, and out on the streets, he had been a thief, vandal and public nuisance. He took every chance to lash out. I wouldn't really call him a violent child, but..."

"I know."

"Younger furs were one thing," continued Czejak, sadly, "but adults, especially authority figures, he would be downright hostile towards. Scared and angry."

"Well... do you think Wilder Springs helped him then?" Gary raised an eyebrow.

"Not exactly. I think it made him feel smaller, more afraid. But I also think I was able to help Nick a little. The point is, Gary, if Nick reverted to his previous behavior... I wasn't sure your resolve would remain the same. He really was a difficult boy at first."

Gary shook his head. "Doc, come on. I'm not stupid. I'm not going to ditch him just because he has an attitude - and I know there's a good kid in there. One that just wants to be loved and respected while he grows up, like any other. He's got some sore spots, but he's not an asshole. He's more decent than you think."

"Well. Yes. But-"

"And he won't revert to anything, doc." Gary smiled. "Because around me, he won't have to pretend to be anything he isn't."

For a second, the white noise of the rain grew heavier. The coyote snorted wryly, a smirk on his lips. "Gary..." he said, "for someone I diagnosed with clinical depression four years ago, you're a hell of an optimist."

"In this situation, I kind of have to be."

"I think you're right there."

The cheetah stared blearily out at the passing trees. After a moment, he pensively muttered, "He really is a good kid."

"At his heart, he is. I've known some little monsters in my time; he's nothing like that. Alright. We're nearly there."

"How long?"

"Half an hour, maybe. The roads get a little bumpy from here on, if you can really still call them roads."

Gary nodded, straightening in the car seat. "Alright. I think I've got my speech all planned out."

The coyote chuckled darkly, his eyes still on the road. It was an oddly chilling sound. "A speech won't cut it, Gary," he warned. "You're going to need a lot more than that."

And once again, Gary's stomach did a soaring, uneasy somersault.

He swallowed. "Yeah. ... Thanks for that."

It was a funny feeling, finally laying eyes on the place.

The car came to a halt on the loose asphalt of a barely populated parking lot. A few SUVs and another sedan were parked closer to the fence, but Czejak parked some distance away.

Coincidentally giving his passenger a better view.

Gary felt his chest tighten, staring out the window at one of the most imposing sights he had seen in his life. Wilder Springs' perimeter fence was a towering twelve-foot structure of tightly woven chain links, and the curls of razor wire that adorned the top were clearly not for decoration. Images of fenced of industrial areas and government-run prisons immediately came to mind.

At the very least, that was to be expected. An imposing fence was, really, a requirement.

But the buildings beyond the fence, were not as he pictured.

Gary wasn't even sure what it was he expected. Perhaps an intimidating, concrete facility. A squarish asylum akin to how he pictured a prison or mental hospital.

But, as the rain cleared, he could see the main building several hundred meters away: an older, rustic building, constructed of painted white brick, trimmings of age darkened wood, and gray slate tiles. Unkempt grass, flattened and glistening from the rain, surrounded the facility. Thoughts of old, country schools, ranches and even retirement homes - albeit not well maintained ones - came to Gary's mind.

It was a large building, however, again reminiscent of a school or camp. A sodden American flag lashed angrily in the wind, fixed to a white-painted pole on the roof. Several smaller buildings were set apart, and between them was a concrete yard.

Looking around, Gary took in the rest of his surroundings. The facility itself was situated next to a large, gloomy forest of gnarled trees, thick canopy, dense underbrush and a thick carpet of dead, soaking leaves and twigs. On all other sides of the fence, it was nothing but unkempt, wild grass. They were truly in the middle of nowhere. A remote place nestled into the heartland wilderness.

It sent a chill through his bones.

"Not what you expected?" he heard Czejak ask. He shook his head. "Better?"

The cheetah just stared at the main building. "Worse. I don't know why."

"The big building houses the dormitories, the refectory, kitchen, seminar rooms. Most of the offices."

"The others?"

"Storage. Dormitories for staff and counselors. Some administration. Not entirely sure."

"The staff stay here?"

"Most of them, yes."

"It's like a reformatory school and a summer camp somehow cross-bred."

Czejak gave a soft chuckle. "More accurate that you know. Alright, Gary, are we ready?"

"Yeah."

With that, they pulled on their jackets, flipped up their hoods and checked the zips. Though the rain had calmed some, when Gary pushed the passenger door open, the cold nipped at his exposed nose almost instantly.

Stepping out onto the crunching asphalt caused him to be hit with a sudden attack of dizziness - having been virtually immobile for hours, by far the longest drive he had experienced in years, Gary's body was just not very pleased with him. He stumbled into the silver car's side. "Shit."

On the other side of the vehicle, Czejak simply shook himself out, before reaching back into the car for his briefcase. Irrationally, Gary felt a little embarrassed.

Forcing himself to look back at the facility, Gary spotted a jacketed fox stalking towards them. Or rather, heading towards the gate inset to the fence. Once more, Gary found himself thinking of a school, and the recent trend towards high gates and fences with barbed wire surrounding them.

But that thought faded away quickly, and his eyes fell upon the approaching fox, taking his time to cross the wet field to the simple bitumen track that met with the entrance.

Ah, shit...

"Evening," called the vulpine, pulling a set of keys from his jacket. He appeared to be dressed in typical street clothes - cream-colored slacks and a jacket, no brand names visible. "Come on in."

"Good evening!" Czejak called, crunching his way over the wet ground. Nervous, Gary looked back at the older male, waiting; and he knew why. Instinctively, he wanted the coyote to lead the way.

For a strange moment, Gary felt very, very small. A child following blindly.

The locks on the gate were undone, and it swung open, creating a tall and wide portal into the fenced off property. Gary was not sure he wanted to pass through it. But his guide kept walking towards it, so, reluctantly, he started to follow.

The fox stepped closer and smiled briefly at Gary. "Hello there," he said, reaching out with a paw. Gary took it and shook for a split second, returning the greeting. "Welcome to Wilder Springs Youth Camp. If you'll come with me, we can get out of the rain and get you signed in."

"Alright." Gary didn't know what else to say.

He and Czejak followed the fox down the track for several minutes, before peeling off down a paved path towards the main building. As they did, Gary saw the entrance at last - again, he felt a chill that was not from the cold, wet winds.

Despite the building's almost rustic design, of brick, mortar and wood, the double doors before him were of heavy, white-painted metal, security glass and metal lattice. Modern and impregnable, raised up several concrete steps. Something tweaked in Gary's head, and he glanced around at the sides of the building. Taking in even more detail this time.

There absolutely were large window frames along the outside wide, sparsely place. Heavy security mesh had been placed over at least most of them - and Gary spotted what looked like a door; it was heavy, of metal and wooden construction much like a fire-door, with thick deadbolt locks visible even a hundred feet away. Not that they were necessary.

The door was set into the building, down a wet, claustrophobic access, and sealed off by an iron gate. It was likely only one of several entrances, and Gary was fairly sure they'd all be similarly secured - either gated, locked and barred, or locked and covered in heavy mesh.

He amended his previous though. It was as if a small town middle-school had been bred with a detention center, and a summer ranch.

They climbed the few short stairs, and with another jangle of keys and clanking of locks, the fox pulled open one of the doors and invited them in.

Steeling himself, Gary managed to walk in first, curiosity driving him.

He expected a reception room of some kind. Instead, he found a mostly bare foyer. The floors were covered with a cheap, blue carpet, slightly dirty from wet shoes and grass that had been carried in. Though it was a wide, open room, there was nothing in it.

To the front, a corridor led deeper into the building. To one side, an interior glass door had been curtly labeled 'Front Office.' On the other, another hallway. Set into the hall's wall was another door, this one opaque, creamy white, heavy and unmarked.

It was eerily quiet so far, although not totally silent. Muffled voices and the sound of footfalls could be heard drifting up the corridors.

Czejak leaned in closer. "Processing," he murmured, glancing down the hallway. "Newcomers are brought there for searching, clothes and the like."

The fox walked up behind them. "Down there is the processing room, that's all. Then it's just down that hallway to the staff room." It wasn't clear if he had overheard or simply seen the direction they were looking. He brushed the snow off his shoulders. "We take their names, give them their camp uniforms, and make sure they're not carrying anything dangerous anyone might have missed. We take smuggling and weapons very seriously here."

Again, Gary could only nod.

Just as the fox opened the office door, there was motion at the far end of the corridor. Gary stole a quick glance just as he was ducking into the room - two young males, fifteen or so at his guess, had padded around the corner in silence, wearing black track-pants, green t-shirts and what appeared to be nothing more than flip-flops on their paws. They were carrying mops and blue buckets, and an adult turned the corner just after they did, looming just behind them.

Gary didn't linger long enough to pick up any more detail. He stepped into the office and let the door be closed.

To his surprise, there was actually a receptionist - an older, somewhat crotchety female badger with short head-fur.

It only took a few moments for her to confirm his details, making it very plain from her tone alone that he wasn't supposed to be here yet. Distracted, Gary barely paid attention to what was going on.

Several moments later, the cantankerous receptionist nodded to the fox, who tugged the door open again. Within seconds, they had piled back out into the carpeted foyer.

"This way, please. I'll take you to the meeting room first." With that, the vulpine started to stride down the corridor that lead into the building.

Gary cleared his throat. "Uh," he managed to force out. "Where are the, uh, kids? I only saw two earlier. Just then."

The fox looked back over his shoulder, then checked his watch. "Mostly in workshops, seminars or group meetings at this time. This is the quietest part of the day, and the best time for visitors." He gave a half-smile.

"Ah, right. And I guess a few chores too."

"Yes." The fox seemed to hesitate a second. "When we get new kids here, they join a same-gender group assigned to one of our counselors. The groups rotate through activities and help each other stay on track. So some of them will still be doing chores."

"Ah." Gary kept his tone neutral.

"This way, please."

It felt so surreal. He could barely believe it was happening - part of him still thought it was a trick...

Group had finished for the day. Nick had been taken back to his room and locked in, to await his first visitor - aside from his appointed social worker. There was nothing to do but wait. Wait and try to think about what he had to do - he couldn't keep trying to not-think anymore. He had to face things now. So he just sat on his bed, back against the plaster wall, his legs crossed beneath him and head bowed.

Thinking. Or trying to.

An oppressive, smothering feeling had settled over him, and an unpleasant tingle that had started in his fingers had somehow spread over his whole body. He was aware he was trembling now, though only vaguely.

His stomach felt weirdly tight.

He had no idea if he could handle it. Sitting across a table from Gary. It would be different here. In uniform - again. Like when they first met, when he was scared and upset, pissed off. Now with staff watching. Listening to everything he said.

He didn't wanna stay here. He didn't wanna go back to the streets. He didn't wanna go back to the system. But what the fuck did he want?! His friends didn't want him back... it was stupid of him to think he could just go back to them.

As if they'd want him. As if anyone would.

This was where he needed to stay. It was where he belonged.

It was what he deserved. Wasn't it?

Shit, if nothing else, the way he was going, it was all he could get.

With a trembling paw, Nick reached up and wiped his brow. To his surprise, he felt sweat. In fact, now he thought about it, his shoulders were heaving, his breathing was quick and deep and his chest tight. As if he was just out on drills. He felt wound up like a coiled spring.

There was so much swirling around his head, so many thoughts and decisions to make, that it all just blurred together into one, big paralyzing, incomprehensible blur.

One thing that he kept coming back to was that the things he said today would change his entire life, forever. His group, and Mister Wadlow, had reminded him of that a few times. Not that they needed to.

The kit took a deep breath and held it, looking down at the his quivering fingers.

This was pointless. He was fucked. He couldn't decide on shit. Whatever he decided, he was gonna fuck it up.

It struck almost without warning. He baulked once, managing to catch it somehow. Quickly, he lurched off the thin mattress and fell to the floor, desperately reaching for the tiny bucket in the corner of his room - one of the only objects he was allowed in there. Thankfully.

It was almost a cough - he choked out what felt like a mouthful of acid. The thin liquid spattered into the plastic lining the bin. His stomach contracted violently, and he coughed some more liquid into the liner. Some of it went up the back of his nose, coming out in a disgusting, involuntary snort.

For several moments, Nick clung to the rim of the pail, gasping. As quickly as it started, it stopped. It felt like his stomach had been wrung dry. Like it wanted to expel more, but there was none left.

There was a dull clunk, and he looked around in time to see his room's door swing open. Dizzy, he had to blink a few times to get his eyes to focus.

Wadlow had stepped into his little room.

"You alright?" the grownup asked, stepping closer. "What's the matter?"

Nick forced himself to swallow. It burned. "Threw up."

The possum merely nodded, appraising him. "Are you alright now?" Nick nodded. "They're here. Come on."

Mentally, Nick froze. However, his trembling body managed to hoist itself upright.

"Get any on yourself?"

The cheetah shook his head, wiping his muzzle on his bandaged wrist.

"Alright. Come on then."

Nick bowed his head and started to walk over to the impatient grownup.

There was a soft, deep voice from the corridor behind the opossum, and Nick looked up to see the lynx guard at the side of the doorframe. He faltered.

"What was that, sorry?" Wadlow asked, looking over at the cantankerous feline.

The reply was low-pitched, and Nick could barely hear it.

"Uh, I don't see why not. Will you take him to the visiting room when you're done?" Wadlow was frowning in mild confusion, but he took a step outside the room. "Alright." He turned to the cheetah again, who was slinking away from the bigger adult without even thinking about it, staring at the carpet. "Mister Goodman has a few words for you, Nick. He'll take you instead. Alright?"

"Yeah."

Wadlow shot him a brief look of annoyance, then shook his head. He rubbed his protruding, mauve nose. "Alright then. Mind your manners, Nick. Think carefully, and make the right choice. This is one of the most important days of your life. Treat it appropriately."

Nick nodded.

The lynx waited until the counselor had started off down the corridor. He stared at Nick with hard yellow eyes for almost half a minute, then he stepped into the tiny room.

And pulled the door closed behind him. It slammed, and Nick twitched at the sound.

And the lynx continued to watch him. Nick didn't look up.

...Fuck! He was shaking. Already.

"When I was a kid," the lynx suddenly intoned, "my dad would give me the belt if I stepped out of line." The big adult folded his arms. "I got two kids about your age, and I do the same for them. I even told their school to give 'em the paddle if they act up. They're good kids."

Nick shuffled slightly, fighting the urge to back away. The lynx had pinned him to the spot with a gaze.

But Nick could feel it; that wasn't all he wanted to do. The guy would grab him if he tried to move. If he said anything. The big lynx wanted to.

"But here, they don't let us do that. When it's exactly what you little shits need." He paused. "I don't believe for a second that you're any better than the stupid little fucker who mouthed off at me on his first day. I'm not buying it, Nick. I'm not buying your god damn tactics. You're still a disrespectful, lying piece of shit. A few weeks ain't gonna erase ten months of your bullshit. I know what's wrong with you, an' I know how to fix it."

The kit let out a quivering breath. He started to feel his pulse, throbbing in his neck and deep in his chest.

Oh shit...

The lynx narrowed his eyes. "What was it you called me again? Month or so ago, before you left. Captain Fuckface? Dickhead? What was it? What did you say to that useless, bleedin' heart coyote again?"

Nick bit his lip, but couldn't find any words.

"Come on. You ain't had a problem saying these things to my face before."

Swallowing, Nick managed to shake his head.

Just hoping the big asshole would leave him alone...

"Nick." The lynx's deep, bassy voice had dropped to a threatening whisper. "Even if you're a fuckin' idiot, and decide to go, you ain't leaving straight away."

Nick tensed all over. The nausea started to return. He forced himself to open his eyes and look up. The expression on the lynx's face was one of dark fury. His thick jaw clenched and ears laid straight back.

"Just remember that. Because I'll hear about every damn thing you say."

After a moment, Nick nodded. He felt numb all over, especially in his head. And so small.

"Watch it. Or I'll give you the thrashin' your parents never had the brains to."

After a moment, Nick's muzzle moved with a mind of its own. "They did."

The lynx scowled. "What was that?"

"Th-they did." Nick shuffled backwards slightly. "They all hit me."

Shit. Why couldn't his fucking dumb mouth just stay closed...?

"Yeah. So you've said." The stocky adult took a step forward, and Nick twitched - almost flinching away. Somehow, he stayed where he was. "Maybe they just didn't do it right then." He glared at the kit's downturned face. "Let's go. Get your sandals on."

All he could see was the tawny-black blur in front of him. It consumed his mind, as he banished all thought and lost all sense of time.

It was easier to not think... He didn't want to think.

"Are you alright?"

The familiar voice tugged him out of the mental quagmire, and Gary looked up. Czejak was sitting next to him, looking at him with concern. It was then that he realized he had been staring at his own paws clutching one another desperately.

"I'm fine." Gary blinked a few times. "Just spacing out." He forced himself back into the present. "Is this where you usually talk to Nick?"

They were in a small, carpeted room, much like an office, except with almost no furniture. There were four, plastic chairs, forming a loose circle around a small white-topped desk. The walls were bare but for a small window, looking out onto the grounds.

"No, it isn't. Our room is laid out differently. It's a bit more bare, more intimidating. There's a bigger table between us, and a camera in the corner. This is an office they set aside for visiting parents." Czejak glanced around. "Not that it will make much difference. There'll be a staff member in here with us."

"Right."

"Gary. I don't know what else to say. Just be ready for anything, and don't get your hopes up."

"Yeah. Whatever, man." Gary smiled tightly. "I'll be fine." He exhaled slowly.

There was a brief knock on the door. Gary started, looking over at the white-painted wooden door as the handle turned. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when he realized it wasn't Nick; instead, a somewhat short opossum, in a white polo shirt and jeans, stepped into the room, smiling slightly. His big round eyes were dark and hard, despite his expression.

"Good afternoon there, guys," the opossum greeted, stepping over to the table. He reached out with a paw and Gary took it instinctively. "Glad you could make it all this way. I know we're a little out of the way here."

"Uhh... not a problem." Gary forced himself to smile back.

"Good. Okay then. My name's Kevin Wadlow, and I'm Nick's Group counselor." With a cough, Wadlow pulled out a chair opposite the visitors and sat down. "He'll be along in a moment. Another counselor just wanted to speak with him about something."

"Ah." Gary thought for a moment. He decided to test the uncertain waters. "Uh. How's he been? I haven't heard anything from him in a few weeks now."

"That's to be expected." Wadlow nodded curtly. "At least for the first few months of their program, our campers are supposed to be focusing on their life here, not the outside world. They often have very powerful negative influences back home, and we want them to focus on their program, and keep them away from anything like that. We really want them to forget their old life for the time being and focus on building their new one."

Gary nodded.

Of course, he didn't expect this Wadlow person to mention that keeping the kids isolated would also make them feel alone, and that their treatment here was sanctioned by society. That the camp was their world now. Not to forget the fact that keeping them from outside contact meant they couldn't expose any maltreatment. Or let them escape.

From personal experience, Gary knew the difference it made, thinking that nobody was on your side. All it could take was a few encouraging words to make the difference between a student accepting a teacher's mistreatment and the student calling up district superintendent.

"That makes sense," he said aloud. "Interesting that you say 'counselors' and 'campers'. I wouldn't have thought of this place like a camp. Uh. Not with a big fence like that one."

"In essence, that's exactly what we are." Wadlow's smile widened for a second. "We have camp-outs, sports, and a host of activities for the kids more advanced in their programs! But we obviously are specialized in dealing with troubled teens and delinquents, and we don't just run in the summer."

"Ah. So most of the staff are 'counselors'? Like, camp counselors?" Gary kept his own expression pleasant.

"Yes. Most of us think of ourselves like that, or as teachers and mentors.. We have mostly live-in counselors and a few administrative staff. Quite a few staff members per camper; we're better staffed than your typical detention center or school, even. In my opinion, obviously, we do things quite a bit better than both."

"Oh. Do you contract a security firm or something? I imagine you need guards or something."

Wadlow thought for a moment before he nodded again. "Sort of. Some of the counselors are referred to as orderlies, and they're tasked more with keeping order and providing general help. We don't contract out to anyone aside from New-Path Teen Escorts, who I believe came around to pick up Nick a few weeks ago from your home."

Gary blinked, and a hot flush prickled his skin. "Oh, yeah."

The opossum eyed him appraisingly, unblinking. "I suppose you want to give him another chance?"

"If he'll give me one, yes," Gary responded instantly.

"I see." He paused. "I suppose that's down to you two for now. Personally, and I'm being honest, I've done this for years now, I don't think Nick is ready."

Gary bit back a retort. "I understand, but I got along pretty well with him. I think we can do it. And, if I'm not mistaken, it's really up to you, isn't it? As his group leader?"

"Yes." Wadlow took a weary breath. "Yes, but I feel it's important for Nick to make the right decision - to stay here - for himself. However, it does depend on how he behaves today. I'm sure you understand it's not all so simple for him - we're his guardians, and he's been sentenced here. If I'm not fully convinced that this is a good idea... I hope you understand."

"I think I do, now." Gary felt uneasily tense; that pretty much confirmed it all. Czejak was right.

There was another knock on the door, and Wadlow called out for the knockee to come in. The door swung open, and Gary held his breath

A hulking lynx, thick, though not all that tall, took up almost the entire view of the corridor beyond the doorway. In front of him, however, with a firm paw gripping his slender shoulder, stood a familiar form.

All the moisture vanished from Gary's muzzle, and his heart seemed to plummet down to his stomach's deepest pits. Nick merely stood there, eyes downcast, looking strangely defeated.

Garbed in the orange shirt and black shorts Gary had first seen him in, with cheap black flip-flops on his bony paws, the kit was slowly but firmly pushed into the room.

Once again it struck Gary how small Nick was. The boy meant so much to him, loomed so large in his thoughts recently, but the tips of his ears were not even up to Gary's shoulders. For some reason, every time he noticed that it brought a strange, somehow wistful tingle to Gary's stomach.

"Here we are. Sorry for the delay." The lynx's voice was deep, oddly threatening and had a fearsome Southern twang. "Nice to meet you."

Gary nodded at the thickly built feline. "Same here."

"Do you need anything? Coffee?"

Czejak shook his head. "No thanks, not for me."

"Are you feeling alright?" Gary murmured. "None for me, thanks."

"Alright. I'll leave you to it then, folks." With that, the lynx simply shut the door.

Pulling out the seat next to him, Wadlow gestured at the kit. "Take a seat, Nick."

There was a moment that hung in the air. Nick shuffled slightly, apparently unable to look up at the trio of adults waiting for him. Barely lifting his paws from the carpet, he made his way to the chair at last, lowering himself into it.

Gary felt a pang of something indefinable. He waited. Hoping that the boy he had rejected would say something first. But it became clear that wasn't going to happen.

"Uh, hey Nick," Gary tried, surprised at how soft his voice was.

Nick shifted in the chair, slouching over. He glanced up. "Hey."

"Nick," grumbled the possum, a warning in his voice.

The kit fidgeted some more. "Good afternoon," he muttered, "... sir."

"I'm glad to see you again." Gary made himself smile. "How've you been?"

"A'ight." The kit fell still - Gary realized he was probably fighting to think of something to say that wouldn't run afoul of his 'group leader' beside him. "What about you?"

"Same. Back to work now. House is back to being boring and empty."

After a few seconds, Nick gave a pitiable excuse for a nod, and the room fell silent.

Wadlow straightened and cleared his throat. "Nick, you had something you wanted to say, didn't you?"

"... Yeah." Nick seemed to be staring at his own paws, clasped in his lap. He thought for a few seconds. "I'm sorry."

Gary frowned and leaned forward. "For what, Nick?"

The kit, sensing the movement, flicked his eyes upward again. "I, like, wasn't ready. I don't think I'm ready to leave here. I w-wasn't a good kid for you."

Something inside Gary wrenched, painfully. He stared in disbelief at the wilting child. "Of course you were, man!" he said, somewhat forcefully. "Nick, dude, you weren't a problem."

"I... I wasn't, like..." Nick stammered for a second, then fell silent. "It was my fault... It's always me."

Firmly, Gary shook his head. "Nick, no. I'm sorry, but it was me this time. It was my fault. I shouldn't have... It was working, I just freaked out." For a moment, the only other fur in the room was the kit across from him. "I want you back, man."

"But-" Nick mumbled. "You'll just send me back again."

"... Nick, I won't."

"Everybody has."

Wadlow stepped in. "Nick has made quite a lot of progress since he came back here," he said smoothly. "I, and the rest of the staff, strongly recommend that he stays here. If you pull him out now, he could revert to his old ways sooner or later; you will have a very out of control teenager on your hands, Mister Robinson, and he could bring trouble to your house - if he hasn't already. I would just like to make that perfectly clear to everyone. I've seen this happen before. It's a terrible idea to take a child out of this program early. Especially one like Nick."

It took a surprising amount of willpower to keep Gary from snapping at the bug-eyed jerk. He wanted to defend the boy he'd grown fond of. But something pulled him up short.

It didn't make sense.

"Recommend?" Gary repeated. He narrowed his eyes at the possum as something suddenly clicked. "Mister Wadlow, this is an unusual situation, isn't it? Having someone like me and a social worker here to discuss something like this with you?"

"Very."

"Probably unprecedented. So I'm going to ask for an unprecedented level of honesty from you, when it comes to dealing with your visitors." Gary smiled, even as the staff member blinked in surprise. "You didn't have to agree to this visit. You don't have to let Nick go, regardless of what we decide on. I get the feeling you believe very strongly in what you do. So why are you doing this?"

The possum stared at him. To his side, he was fairly sure Czejak had gripped the seat of his chair in a stunned death-grip. His eyes were probably as wide as dinner plates.

Nick's head had snapped up, and he looked in confusion from Gary to his group leader. But neither of the adults looked back at him.

"Please." Gary pressed. "We need to know where we stand here. Can I take this boy home with me if it's what he wants, or not?"

Wadlow interlaced his fingers. "Yes. If you both agree, we'll negotiate to release him to the DCFS again." The possum shrugged. "As for why... you're right. I very strongly believe Nick should stay here, and I would normally not even entertain the notion of giving up on him at this level of the program. But the facility itself will benefit."

Just as Gary was about to respond, the coyote beside him straightened. "You're not taking any more..." he said softly. "You're going totally private."

"That's right." The possum shrugged. "But that's getting away from the issue here. Suffice it to say that I'd sooner Nick stayed here and worked his program - that's exactly what I'd recommend to his parents, if he had any. I don't think personally he's ready for the choice, I think it's a very bad idea for him to even be meeting you at this point. But Doctor Czejak and my boss has convinced me to think of it as a win-win situation for Wilder Springs - even if he didn't know it. Ultimately, if you're willing to take on the troubles, and Nick wants to sacrifice all his hard work up until now, then..."

Nick had drawn inwards and away from them all. Clearly lost. Gary didn't blame him.

"Well," he tried, addressing the kit now. "Uh. Do you want to talk for a little, Nick?"

"... I guess."

"Uh, yeah. How's it been?" Gary almost slapped himself. "Uh. A lot's happened in the last few weeks."

Nick nodded, but otherwise was as lifeless as a statue. Gary supposed the kit hadn't expected any real conversation and was quietly freaking out. "... It's been alright."

"That's good. I, uh, had a lot of time to think about things. Like, you staying with me." Nervously, Gary ran a paw through his headfur. "I freaked out before. I won't do it again, I promise."

"... You mean stay with you forever?"

Briefly, Gary closed his eyes. "Yeah. If you want. Until you grow up and want to leave." Something came to him. "You won't have to go back into the foster system. You won't need to go through that crap anymore. I mean, look, let's just put it out there. I want to adopt you, man."

For several moments, Nick stayed perfectly still. Gary found himself holding his breath. When Nick swallowed and fidgeted in his chair at last, he tensed all over.

"I don't..." Nick whispered, his voice hoarse. "I want to stay here. Finish my program."

Gary somehow kept his muzzle from falling open. A heavy pressure started to constrict his chest. "I... Nick are you sure?" He glanced over at Czejak, who sighed and hung his head. Which was no help whatsoever.

"I'm a bad kid." Nick rubbed his nose - Gary noted with a chill that his wrist was bandaged. "I got your stuff stolen. I was... I just fuck everything up."

"Nick!" growled Wadlow, and the kit flinched. "Language!"

"... I didn't mean it." Nick's voice cracked. "I just do it all the time. Just like that. I-I gotta learn."

Despite the warning, Gary was nonplussed.

Part of him had been sure that Nick would leap on the chance to escape from this place. That his own rejection hadn't torn apart the last shred of Nick's independence and confidence.

Evidently, he was wrong.

... No. This wasn't right.

"Sorry..." whispered Nick, sniffing. "I wanna- I can't. I don't wanna keep screwing up."

The room suddenly felt so much colder. Gary tried to meet the boy's eyes, but his gaze was never returned.

A minute passed. He had to think quickly. "Nick... Can I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Did you like staying with me? I mean, compared to being with everyone else?" Gary forced a smile. "We got along alright, yeah? "

To his surprise, Nick glanced up again. Finally, they locked eyes. "... Y-yeah."

"Nick, if you'll forgive me, I'll forgive you too. We'll help each other get better as people - that's what friends do." Gary sniffed. "I like you too, man. I don't think you're a bad kid, not really. I'm cool with having you back, man. I want you back. I screwed up, not you. I don't want you blaming yourself or thinking it's your fault."

Wadlow turned his head to address the boy. "You have to decide, Nick," he said, in a flowing voice. "You know what you're like, the things you do. Do you want us to help you, or do you want to go out there and face it on your own?"

It took every ounce of Gary's self control to not leap to his feet and punch the smug asshole.

"I don't want to go," the kit murmured. "Sorry."

As Gary stared incredulously. That was it. It was over. Nick had tried, he'd really tried to make things work, but Gary realized at last just what he had done.

Finally convinced to trust a stranger to house and care for him, that stranger had thrown him aside without apparent reason, with no respect, with no warning. At last, Gary started to understand: it must've happened so often in Nick's young life that he had no choice but to blame himself.

It was the only way any of it could ever make sense...

He'd cut Nick's heart out.

"Well... I - okay." Gary looked down at the table's blank surface. "I guess that's it."

"Y-yeah."

"Shit..." Gary shut his eyes tight. "Nick, I think it's all your choice, man. Just... I'll be there for you if you ever want to catch up. Just stay in contact with Czejak, whatever happens. Can you promise me that?" He opened his eyes, trying to meet the boy's again. Nick refused him this time, staring at the desktop.

A weak sob escaped before Gary could catch it. "Fuck!" He shifted in his chair. "Alright. That's it."

"... Sorry, man."

Gary sighed, pushing his chair out. "Okay."

"Gary?" the coyote murmured.

With another sigh, Gary reached up to rub his eyes. "I just... There's no point in sticking around." He shook his head. "I said I couldn't take Nick if he didn't want to come. I get the feeling he made his choice a long time ago."

"Gary..."

"If you still want to talk, I'll go wait... in the car or... something. There's no point in me being here." With that, Gary stood. And hesitated. "Uh. I guess... goodbye, Nick. I'm sorry I put you through this."

Nick twitched, his ears laying right back.

"Gary... okay, just wait outside then." Czejak shook his head. "I'll be out in a few minutes."

With nary a nod, Gary stepped over to the door and slipped out. The instant he was back in the corridor beyond and the door was shut, the cheetah crossed to the opposite wall and thumped his back into it.

"Shit!" he hissed to himself. His eyes started to sting bitterly, so he closed them tight."What the fuck were you expecting..."

After all, he was just another asshole to that kid. Why should he want to come back with him anyway?

What the fuck was he thinking?

"Nick?"

The kit started, but managed to keep his head down.

For a time, nobody had said a word. Then that familiar voice cut into the silence.

"Nick, this is it, buddy..." Across the table, Czejak had leaned forward, his voice taking on the gentle, respectful tone Nick rarely heard. "There isn't going to be a second chance after today - this time, you're the one making the decision."

"... I know."

Nick suddenly felt so tired, it was all he could do to not slouch even lower in the chair and try to hide.

He knew what he wanted now: he just wanted it all to be over.

Whatever. He just wanted to go back to his tiny room, or yard-duty, or whatever they had planned for him, and just forget about everything... Forget about all the hard choices, and the things that could happen to him...

"It's not too late, Nick... We're still here," Czejak pressed. But Nick didn't even want to look at him. Didn't want to see how sad and disappointed he'd made him. "We won't abandon you, Nick. Neither of us, ever again. You won't be ruining your life if you decided to leave, because we'll both stay with you. I promise."

He wanted to believe that. He really did. Nick had finally stopped making excuses though; it'd was obvious to him now that he always fucked up. He was messed up.

He'd never even tried to be nice to any of his foster parents; sure, some of them were real assholes too, and he never wanted to be their friends, but he'd just been an asshole to everyone too. When he stopped to think about it, Nick wasn't sure he had any friends; or that anyone liked him at all!

Then he thought he was getting along well with Gary, before he fucked it up. So even when he wanted to...

"Nick?"

The kit bit his lip, trying to force away a sob. The corners of his eyes started to burn. "He doesn't want me!" he blurted. "Stop it!"

"Nick!" snapped Wadlow, making him jump. "Watch it! And dry up."

Nick shook his head. "I'm n-not manip-!" he tried to protest.

"Nick!"

With a start, Nick sunk lower in the chair and shut his mouth.

... This was why he wanted to stay. He felt so scared, he had no fucking clue what to say or do. Everything he did made people even more pissed off at him, and made things worse. He kept screwing up.

But he knew what they'd do to him here. They wouldn't throw him away or let him run off; they'd just do what they'd always done.

This was his home. It was all he really knew and could trust.

Everything made sense if he just admitted that he was the problem, and they could help him...

"Nick, there's another option." Czejak's voice was steady, cutting into his thoughts. "If you don't want to go with Gary, you can come home with me."

It took a moment for that to click. "... What?" Nick whispered, his ears slowly perking.

"Yeah, Nick. I'm serious."

When Nick looked up, he saw the coyote staring right back at him. Waiting for a reply.

In the months Nick had known his social worker, he never once even seriously thought that the guy would want to have Nick in his house, let alone foster him.

... But it wouldn't change shit. Nick thought he liked Gary, too. The last thing Nick wanted to ever happen was for him to screw up his friendship with the doc too.

Slowly, Nick shook his head, his vision blurring into a mess of smeared light. "I can't..." He swiped his eyes dry again.

Just in time to see Czejak lower his head. "Alright, Nick. I'm here for you, whatever you decide."

"Okay."

The coyote thought for a moment. Then sighed. "Well, then I guess that's it." He reached down for his briefcase. "We have to go then, Nick. We can't stay for long."

Nick sniffed.

He wanted the two grownups to be gone. Wanted to tell them to get out himself. But then...

"I've seen you quite a lot recently, so I might not be around much in the next few months." The psychologist stood, smoothing out his sweater. "Would you like to keep doing what we started? We can keep working on your reading and writing."

"Yeah."

"Okay." Czejak stepped toward the door. "Well, I'll see you in a few weeks, Nick. Keep your chin up."

A few weeks...? Nick felt a brief chill.

"Bye for now, Nick."

Somehow, Nick managed to shoot the adult a lopsided grin.

But then the coyote was through the door, and Nick couldn't help it. He slumped forward and collapsed his head onto his forearms. He pinched his eyes shut tight.

Several moments passed in silence, for which he was grateful. Then he heard Wadlow's voice.

"You're on Holes this evening, Nick. It's time to go." He heard the stocky opossum get to his feet too. "... I'm glad you made the right choice."

It didn't feel like he did. It didn't feel like anything.

Eventually, Nick got to his feet. He shifted his paws until the straps of his cheap flip-flops sat properly.

When Wadlow opened the door and ushered him out, Nick was dismayed to see Czejak and Gary still there, conversing quietly only a few steps away from the door. Judging from the way they were standing, Gary didn't seem to be listening.

He padded past them, trying to not look. It was over. He'd made his choice. It was time for him to forget about Gary, and maybe even forget about Czejak...

Working his program now was the only thing he could do. It was the only thing that made sense. It was all he deserved.

"... Mister Wadlow!"

Nick flinched, but kept walking. Then a paw settled on his shoulder, holding him still.

"Yes?"

"Can I talk to you for a second?" It was Gary.

Nick wandered over to the wall as his group leader and short-time foster father approached one another. He made sure to stand up straight and wait - leaning on the wall would land him PEs, especially in front of visitors.

The last thing he wanted was to make tonight even worse. He took a breath and held it, trying to not listen to the adults as they murmured to one another - hopefully it was over.

He didn't want to stay here. Nick needed to stay at Wilder Springs.

Hopefully, Gary got tha-

"I'm sorry, I can't do that. If it's God will, Mister Robinson, then-" Wadlow's voice got firmer, louder, and Nick found his attention wrenched back to the immediate present.

When he looked over, Gary's face was bleak, brown eyes hard as stone. Then he interrupted... "It has nothing to do with God, Mister Wadlow, please!" The cheetah's tone was somehow even firmer. "This is all about our will, and the things we do. What we choose." Nick blinked, but the adults paid him no mind. "I can tell you feel strongly about what you do. I can also tell you that I'm never going to feel the same about it. So take some credit, or blame, for what you're doing, Mister Wadlow, and let's talk choices. Real choices."

Slowly, Nick glanced at his therapist, who merely gawped back at him with equal bewilderment.

But neither of them could think of anything to say. The adult cheetah pressed on.

"Think about it." Gary scowled. "Whatever Nick's worth, or no government interference. You just spoke to me about your faith; you believe in what you do, and I believe in what I can do for Nick. Just give me a moment. Whatever he decides, truly by himself, you can call that God's will if you like." He slowly folded his arms. "I'm not religious myself. "

The very air in the corridor seemed to electrify and hang heavy. Nick found himself edging away.

What. The. Fuck...?

"Think about it. Win-win. I will do everything I can for Nick. He's not going back to what he came here from, and you know how important that is." After a moment, Gary sighed. Nick realized his eyes were reddened, wet. "C'mon. Now I'm asking you to see how important this is - to me. All I'm asking is that you give me ten minutes. Just me and Nick. No staff."

The opossum just stared, meeting the taller male's gaze unflinchingly. Nick forgot to breathe. For the second time that afternoon, he felt positively tiny.

Slowly, Wadlow nodded. "Alright." He glanced down the hallway. "Alright. Follow me. Come on, Nick."

Jaws agape, Nick stared. But when Wadlow brushed past him, he found himself following.

As he did, he heard the doc issue a strange, strangling noise. "Gngh-! G-Gary, what was that?!"

"True believer," muttered Gary cryptically. "Wait here."

For some reason, that just made Nick more nervous.

The staff member led them down the corridors, passing the refectory. Nick felt a sour, sick taste nestle at the back of his throat when he realized they were being led straight to the dormitories. For some reason, he didn't like the idea of Gary seeing his room here.

But in no time at all, Wadlow had pulled open the thick door to that familiar, tiny cell.

"Here we go." Wadlow stepped to the side and gestured at them both.

Holding his breath, trying to stall the urge to hyperventilate, Nick stepped into his room - a place he had long realized was no sanctuary. He crossed straight to the other side and turned, keeping his head down.

He really didn't want to look at the grownup cheetah now.

"Alright," he heard Wadlow mutter. "I can give you fifteen minutes or so. After that, I'll have to ask you to leave. Nick has chores."

"I won't need ten. Thank you."

A moment later, the door was pulled shut. Nick jumped, half expecting the solid, heavy sound of the deadbolts - to be locked in from the outside as usual. It never happened. His heart started to pound, and he shuffled nervously. He felt cornered.

He flicked a glance upward. Gary was in his room with him, standing by the door. It made Nick feel a little better when he realized the adult was just as nervous as him.

... Fuck.

"I won't be long, Nick." Gary's tone was almost apologetic. "I just needed to talk to you alone." The adult scratched his neck sheepishly. "So, uh. What've you got after this?"

For a brief moment, Nick's chest tightened. "N-nothin'." He hesitated. Part of him wanted to say nothing. To drive Gary away, even. But at the same time... "I ain't allowed to tell. We can't talk to visitors about that stuff."

"Yeah. I know, Nick." Suddenly, Gary exhaled - angrily. "I can't believe this shit. But, seriously, Nick. We're alone. He's not listening at the door. You can say whatever you want; I already know what this place is like."

Whatever. "I got Holes." Nick stepped closer to the wall. "They make us dig holes outside for ages. I think I gotta do the trash or the bathroom floors or whatever. Then we got drills, exercises. Then lights out."

"... I see."

A question leaped to Nick's mind. "Are there other places like this?" He glanced up.

The grownup nodded. "Yeah. A lot. Chances are, some of the kids here have been to more than just this one. At least from what I've heard."

Nick nodded.

"I'm sorry, man," Gary suddenly murmured, stepping back heavily. He fell against the door. "I'm really sorry. For everything. You have no idea."

"Why?" Nick replied. "It ain't your fault."

"Come on, Nick, don't do that." Gary's paw raised and fell in a saddened gesture. "I did this so we could talk properly. I know you blame me at least a little."

"No, I don't."

"I was really happy you let me be that close to you, Nick. I felt so happy, just thinking I was making you happy." Gary sniffed. "I just... I jumped to the conclusion that you were only doing it because you were afraid I was going to get rid of you. Like it was too good to be true. You've gotta understand how that makes me feel, Nick." He paused. "I just got scared. I didn't want to hurt you. I didn't want to be the monster I told myself for years that I would never be. But I look back on what I did that night and I want to hit my stupid, fucking face with a brick. I ruined everything."

Nick tried to swallow. His suddenly dry muzzle thwarted him, so he fidgeted and shuffled back against the wall.

"Nick, man, you're getting a real choice now - this is, what, the first time ever?"

"... I guess."

"You're really gonna choose to stay here? You won't even give me, or the doc, a chance?"

Sour frustration nipped at the back of Nick's mind. He sighed heavily. "Don't you fuckin' get it?" he mumbled, hoping to keep his voice low.

"Get what?"

At first, nothing came to him.

But then words and explanations started to swim confusingly in Nick's head. He slumped even more on his paws, his body felt like rock.

He was never good at this. He could never explain things. He was too dumb.

"I-I wasn't raised good," he tried. "I'm not like other kids. I dunno how to be a good person, I keep fuckin' things up. That's why they sent me here."

For a moment, there was quiet. Nick hoped that it was over. But then Gary swore.

"Christ, Nick." The grownup sighed himself. "How do you think you're meant to learn how to be a good person?!"

What?

Weakly, Nick looked up. "Huh?" To his surprise, the grownup was staring at him, his eyes watering.

"Seriously, Nick..." The adult's expression was strange. Determined or upset. Nick wasn't sure. "We learn how to be good people from our friends and family. What makes you think you need to learn from a place like this?"

Nick drooped. Instead of the anger he wished he felt, all he felt was tiredness. Sluggishly, he tried to think of a reply. "I... I always acted an asshole to everyone they, like, put me with," he finally murmured. "I just..."

"Nick, we-"

"You'd make a good dad."

"...What?"

"You're gonna be a good dad." Nick sniffed. "I-if I wasn't such an asshole to you... like the first day. I was an asshole the whole time. If I wasn't like that, you wouldn't o-of sent me back here." He fell back against the wall, staring without focus at his neatly made bed. "... 'M sorry."

Gary swallowed. It looked sore, somehow. "N-Nick... I don't want to just be a good dad. I want to be your dad. I'm picking you." The adult lifted a paw and rubbed his eyes. "I wasn't upset about any of that. You didn't know me at first, I understand that. We were getting along much better. I made a fuckin' stupid mistake." He sniffed. "Nick, I can't live with myself, knowing that because of me you decided to stay in a place like this. That you just threw away your chance to be free, because of me. That you blame yourself because of me. That I fucked you over like this."

"Isn't you..."

"Nick... Listen to me." Gary inched a little closer. Nick risked a glance up at the adult's face. Something about Gary's expression made it impossible to tear his eyes away, even as the grownup took a knee in front of him. "I hate this place. I hate every place like it. I want to look after you, and give you a real chance."

Nick blinked, drawing away slightly. His eyes were wet again, but he didn't look away. His stomach upended.

"Nick, I want to adopt you, kid. If you don't want to stay with me, then please go with Czejak." Gary smiled. "Nick, I'll go to war with these motherfuckers if it means getting you out of here. I want to, but you gotta tell me I can. I'll do everything I can to make sure you're alright. I'll teach you everything you gotta know, and if you end up hating me, then I won't stop you if you decide to leave. You just have to tell me you want out of here... I'll do the rest. I'll do it all! I promise!

"This is the last time I'll bother you, Nick. After this, if you want to stay here, I'll move on. I won't ask you again, I swear."

Nick sniffed. "I wanna stay... please..." He staggered back, into the wall. He grimaced, trying to fend off the tears. It didn't work. "Just go away. You don't want me. I just make shit worse."

After a few moments, where Gary just seemed to watch him sadly, he stood. "Alright, Nick," quavered the adult. "Okay. If that's what you really think. I can't force you. I won't. Goodbye." He stepped back. "Just, uh. You can always reach me through the doc, you know. If you ever want to."

"Yeah." Nick sniffed again. The emotions he had been bottling up all day started to become unbearable. He knew it was coming; he was gonna cry.

Fuck everybody...

"Just one question, Nick..." Gary suddenly piped. His paw was resting on the silvery door-handle.

"What?"

"When those guys came around, the ones who poured gas on you. Why didn't you go with them? Why did you get yourself beat up just to stop them getting in my house?"

Nick's ears flattened, and he groaned, burying his face in his arms.

"Can you at least tell me that?"

The truth was, he didn't know. He wasn't sure. He'd done everything he could to not think about that night, that decision.

"I promised the doc," he mumbled, slurring slightly. "And it's up to me if I wanna go. They were tryin' to make me."

"Ah." Gary twisted the door-handle. "I get it. You did it for the doc. I kinda thought so. Alright."

"Wait, no!" Nick started, reaching up to swipe at his nose. "'S'not that." Nick started to slide down the wall until he was sitting, with his knees up to his chest. "S'not just that. I didn't want them to take your stuff either! Shit."

"Nick..."

"I did it for you, okay?!" Nick sobbed in bitter exasperation. "But I still fucked up. Even when I try! Fuck!"

"Nick, it's not always about you, okay?" Gary released the door. His voice took on a gentle, flowing tone; for some reason, Nick found it comforting. "You're not the only one to have a shit life, and you're definitely not the only one to fuck up now and then. I made mistakes too. So did Czejak. You don't deserve to be punished for my mistakes, Nick. Or for the shit anyone else put you through." The adult paused. "Nick, you've been here for almost a year, right? Has it helped you yet? Do you really think it'll help you now?"

Nick nodded and sniffed. "Y-yeah... I-I was being an asshole... but I'll try now."

"Do you think that means it'll be easy? Do you really think this place can beat and scare you into being a good kid? Just like that guy? How he treats you?" Gary swore softly. "Nick, okay, so you're gonna work your program and give this place a 'chance', gonna give in - so what? Did you give any of your foster parents a 'chance'?"

A peculiar whimper escaped Nick's throat. "I gave you a fuckin' chance!" he whined, covering his eyes. Fuck - he almost never cried. Never in front of anyone, except maybe the doc. Why now?! Why with Gary?!

"Yeah. And I fucked up. I let you down, Nick. And you weren't with me for a year. You were with me for two-and-a-fucking-half weeks." Now Gary sniffed. His voice dropped. "Two-and-a-half weeks with a cool kid that I know is deep-down the sweetest, most decent young guy I've met. You're not a bad kid, Nick. You're fucking not!"

Nick curled himself even tighter, staring off to the side through blurry eyes.

A thousand emotions welled up and broke against his thoughts. He was afraid. The choice he now finally had was daunting - and it was a real choice. A scary choice.

He liked the adult. A lot. In a way, he was pretty sure he loved him. In only a few weeks, Gary had shown him compassion and understanding that not even Czejak had. They'd connected so well, and Nick could tell the adult cared deeply about him. Gary, whose face brought flashes of dark memories to Nick's mind, had also shown love and affection so genuine and warm.

And he wanted it to so much. But if he kept fucking up, then didn't he need to-? Did he deserve it?!

If it wasn't Wadlow's voice, it was his. Or another counselor. Or another foster parent.

He was stupid. He was selfish. He was a worthless delinquent. He was crazy. He was bad. He was fucked in the head!

"Y-you don't get it." The kit clawed at his suddenly throbbing head. "I was real bad before I came here."

"Yeah, I can believe that." Gary stepped closer again, sinking to his knee. "But I think that was because of Czejak - not the shit they tell you here. If anything, the best thing they did was make you sit down and listen to someone who could help you: the doc. Are you really gonna tell me that they helped you more in this last year than the doc did? Was it them, making you dig holes and punching you in the face, or the doc?"

"I dunno."

"C'mon, Nick, yeah you do. Don't let them do this to you. Is what they do here any different from the things he did to you? How is more of the same shit going to help you?!" Gary paused. "Nick, this is what they do in places like this. They isolate you. Attack you when you feel alone. Make you betray yourself and how you think of yourself. Then they tell you they got the solution. It's just a classic formula, it's nothin' new. You thinkin' this stuff is all going to plan for them. I know it must be hard, I'm doing my best to understand what it must be like for you, and it isn't easy, but the doc and I just want what's best for you. At least listen to us. Don't let these guys into your head without giving us a chance to balance it out. Shit."

Nick cursed under his breath, pinching his eyes shut. "You don't get it."

"I do. Like I said, Nick. It isn't always about you. You're not the only one to have to deal with shit in life, or to fuck up royally." Gary raised a paw and let it slap on his knee. "You're not the only one who can make mistakes. I don't want to make this harder for you, but I can't walk out of here knowing that these motherfuckers have broken you down and are gonna spend the next few years twisting you with self-hate and blame. There's taking responsibility for your actions, and then there's shooting yourself in the ass for things beyond your control - and when I sent you back here, that was my fault. When that asshole was hitting you, that was his fault. When your other foster parents didn't treat you with dignity or put in the fucking effort to understand you, that's their fault. So what, you've accepted blame for the things you've fucked up? Okay, me too. Whatever. We can help each other, Nick. We can. I wanna help you, and you've already helped me. I just-"

"Why me?" interrupted Nick, not even thinking.

But Gary didn't miss a beat. Almost instantly he snapped back, suddenly heated. "Why the hell not?! Because you're not a bad kid, Nick! Despite all the shit you've gone through, all you want is to be left alone and have some people you can love and trust. I know you want a normal life. You're a good kid, Nick. I know what this shit is like. I'm sure to you I'm just some fucking lucky guy who has it easy, but I worked hard to get what I got, and I made enough fucking mistakes to know what it's like. Nick, if you can't forgive yourself, you can't get on with your life, and if you take on the blame for what others do to you, then you might as well fucking give up. Trust me."

"No," Nick moaned, curling up even tighter. He reached down his ankle and took hold of the strap on his right flip-flop. Gripping it hard, pulling on it. "Everyone does it! I got no friends. It's me, I'm the common e-element."

"Even if that's true, that doesn't mean the right thing to do is to let these guys screw you up even more. You don't need to be punished, Nick. That's not what you need at all." The grownup sighed. "I want you back, Nick. I at least want you out of here. Can you please let me take responsibility for what I did? It's not fair for you to hog it all, man. C'mon, leave some for me."

A lost moment later, Nick looked up. Gary was smiling weakly. Equally teary-eyed.

He tried to think. It was shockingly hard. Their gaze locked, and Nick felt very strange.

"... I wannit to be true," he whispered. "I wanna stay with you, 'n' get outta here, but-"

"Give me another chance, Nick. I won't hurt you again."

"They said I was doin' better."

"What do you mean?"

Idly, Nick rubbed at his shins. "They said they'd put me back. To level one."

"Well, it's your choice, man. I just had to talk to you; without that stuck-up asshole looming over you. But if I were you, I wouldn't be so happy that they're thinking of bringing you to level fucking one - that doesn't change the fact you're stuck here until they finally let you go." Gary swore softly. "Then what? You either stay here until you're eighteen or older, or you get another foster placement? Nick, I can't promise that everything will be easy the moment you come back to me, or go with Czejak, whatever. I mean, it'll take effort from you too. There'll be arguments and days where everyone's angry at one another, and tough changes to make, I can't lie about that. It's gonna be fucking hard. The point is, you can either face all that here, or you can leave and face it along with someone you chose to be with. Simple."

Nausea clenched his stomach again, so Nick took a deep breath. Trying to suppress it. He swallowed hard. "S-so you won't... you'll keep me, then? That what you're sayin'?"

"I swear on my mother's grave. I won't give up on you. I won't send you back into a place like this. I won't let them take you away. I won't burn you again. As long as you choose to stay with me, you can."

"It costs money to look after a kid."

"Yeah, well I got money." Gary snorted. "And nobody to really spend it on."

Slowly, Nick closed his eyes. A harsh rushing sound, like breaking waves, had filled his skull. Distant but still distracting. But even still, he found himself speaking.

Whether or not he realized it, he had made a decision. Maybe he had made it long ago, and was just scared of it.

"Okay."

"... Nick?"

Unsteadily, Nick posted his arm on the wooden floorboards and clambered to his feet. Wiping his eyes with his bandaged wrist, he staggered towards the kneeling grownup, who watched him in bemusement.

They stared at one another for a few seconds, then Nick stepped back and raised his uninjured paw to his shoulder.

There was a muted thud. His bony knuckles struck Gary square on the forehead, but the grownup managed to stay kneeling. He did reel slightly though.

"Fuck you," Nick hissed, feeling his entire body shaking.

Gary shook his head, briefly touching the spot Nick had hit. "I'm sorry, Nick."

With a blank face, Nick drew back.

Oh, for fuck's sake...

"So, should we go tell them you want to leave?" Gary said, hauling himself to his feet too. He shook his head again. "Ouch, man. Good thing that was your left, huh?"

"... Sorry."

"It's alright. I guess I deserved it."

"I won't do it again." Nick stared unfocusedly at the adult's shoes. Swearing internally at himself. "You don't hit me, so I won't hit you."

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds fair."

"Jesus, Gary."

"Hm?" Belatedly, Gary shook himself from his stupor and looked up. He had been on autopilot, reaching for the car's door without even thinking. He hadn't really been thinking since they left the possum's office.

He didn't even notice that they'd walked out to the car park.

"What?"

Glancing over, Gary noticed his companion was glaring at him, with a look of chagrined reproach. "Couldn't you have given me a little warning?"

"Not really, no." Gary grinned. "I know you like to have everything - or everyone - under control, doc, but that was something I needed to do. Spontaneously. It worked, right?"

"Yes, but at what cost?" Czejak huffed, his sandy-grey ears flattening. "I swear you've just shaved a decade off of whatever time I had left."

"I'm sorry, doc. Are you really mad at me?"

"Well, no, I suppose not." The coyote shot his client a pained look. "Stop that, Gary. You're toying with me."

"Am I?" Gary couldn't help but snicker. "I don't have a clue what I'm doin', man. I can't believe it! We did it, doc!"

Czejak smiled lopsidedly. "I suppose we did. If they do as they promised." He looked back at the gated facility. "Gary... It's only a small victory, in the long run."

"I know. It's not over. Of course it isn't. Don't focus on that, doc. C'mon, think of what we've achieved today."

The coyote unlocked the car, and the two quickly got in. There was a biting chill in the air, and neither of them wanted to dawdle. The drive back was going to be long and sleepy. But as they sat down, Gary couldn't help but look up, through the imposing fence.

It still shocked him that places like this existed. It scared him. It was hard to believe that it was real, but he'd just been inside those walls. He'd walked into the very heart of his vicarious loathing and fury and somehow just accepted it and its barbed fences as reality.

If they'd managed to subject him to their marketing before he knew the reality, if they'd managed to twist him with carefully chosen words, or play on his parental fears, it's possible even Gary could fall for it. Get him to send someone he loved, or didn't, there to be "saved."

But this was a prison. No, it went beyond that; in many ways, it was much worse. It disturbed and disgusted him so deeply, and Gary wasn't sure he'd ever be able to get Nick to tell him everything he went through here. But if the stories he'd heard were even partly true, even just a little, then... it kind of scared him, just to know these places were real, but it also angered him.

He wanted to do something. Anything.

"Are you ready?"

Gary flinched. "Grhm? What?"

Czejak was smiling slightly, his paw ready to twist the ignition. "You look a little preoccupied. Are you really ready to go for today?"

"Good question. I dunno. You know, part of me understands why people don't know, or don't wanna know, that these places exist... you know, the unregulated kind." Gary sighed. "I want to be a million miles from here, doc. But it... it is kinda hard, knowing how... I mean, shit. How many kids in there are goin' through hell? How many of them are just like me?"

"I know, Gary. I know it very well." The engine growled and the heating switched on, blasting Gary's face with stale, hot air. "But you just have to walk away."

"I guess."

"Gary, sometimes you have to walk away..." Czejak put his car in gear and started to reverse. "Just so you can come back again."

Gary grunted. "What happens if you just stay there? What if you fight, huh?"

"... Well, then you might never leave. Ever."

"Yeah, well. Not this time."

The car started to grumble its way across the unmarked lot, the uneven ground causing it to vibrate intensely. Czejak continued to focus on driving, not bothering to reply.

*

It felt like he'd been breathing acid, and his entire body prickled. It was nothing new. Oddly, he was getting used to how extreme exertion felt.

Nick stumbled back the edge of the court, gasping for air painfully. His stomach felt tight and threatened to expel a hot liquid.

Even though he was supposed to be leaving, he had to do the evening drills with everyone else. Mister Kincaid had driven the lower levels hard tonight - Nick lacked the strength of the older boys, but he was an old paw here now. Regardless, he had already thrown up somethin' fierce, and he wouldn't the first one to do so this evening. It was actually really common.

It was over. After an hour of lunges, push-ups, sit-ups, squats, jumps and all kinds of other things Nick wasn't even sure what to call anymore (fuck he hated lunges!), evening drills were over.

Except Nick had been singled out again.

As the others had lined up to be lead back to their rooms, Nick was told to stay behind and do a few more drills - which wasn't too bad. It meant he hadn't yet been forced to drink the usual two-liters of stale water from a plastic, dirty bottle. Not yet, anyway.

It was usually that that drove them to throw up. So, when he watched the other young males retch and gag before being led back inside, he wasn't too upset. He had a few more minutes to let his stomach settle.

It was weird. Nick wasn't sure just what he'd fucked up badly enough to deserve to be held behind in the first place, but he was used to it. He always pissed them off, even when he didn't mean to. The staff always had it in for him. But he'd been trying to behave more now, so it probably wasn't a big deal. After all, he was supposed to be leaving soon.

... Going back to Gary.

He still wasn't sure how he felt about it, outside of being a little scared. Nothing had changed - that was why he didn't wanna go back before. Nothing had changed. He was still the same dumb fuck... Again, he just tried to not think about it. He really didn't want to think about it.

But he did want to get the fuck out of here.

As Nick waited, he shifted on his paws and plucked at his clothes. As the colder weather started to come in, the staff handed them track-pants more often, and undershirts. Nick wasn't a huge fan of the undergarment, it just felt weird to him, since he was more used to baggy, loose clothes, but it did help with the cold.

And cold it was getting. His fingers were starting to get chilled, and he was sure he'd be shivering by now if it weren't for the exercise. He stood at attention, trying to fight the urge to rub his paws together furiously. His hot breath steamed rhythmically as he tried to slow his breathing. The sun had crept below the horizon, painting the sky a truly odd mixture of gray and purple. A subdued but yet intense hue that Nick found a little unnerving.

Glancing across the gravelly courtyard, Nick spied the fox counselor stalking towards him, his stride purposeful. Behind him was the leopard guard. Whatever was happening, Nick was going to be watched by them both.

"Right." Kincaid walked right over to him. "Since you're leaving, your group leader has decided you can finish your punishment detail all at once. You've got PEs."

Nick blinked stupidly. Then something in his chest wilted.

He rejected the idea of resisting straight out of paw - that was why the guard was there. If he didn't obey, they'd make sure Nick's last few days were sheer hell, starting with right when they sprayed him in the eyes, probably.

So the kit nodded and tried to keep all expression off his face. A small part of him was proud of his self-control.

Kincaid pulled a small note out of his pants' pocket, reading it for a few moments. Nick watched on; trying to ignore the guard. The way he was looking at him was just freakin' him out. "... Alright, let's get a move on. You know the drill by now. Shirt off if you want. Get on the line."

Wordlessly, Nick shuffled back to the line. After a sharp order to get a move on, he started to jog. Might as well get it over with.

After all, this was probably gonna be the last time.

Three seconds away from battering his router with a baseball bat, Gary sat down heavily at his computer.

"I'll reset you with you a baseball bat next," he growled under his breath, hitching his headset around his neck. "Alright."

After waiting a few moments for the connection to sort itself out, Gary simply hit the Return key and slipped the soft, cushioned speakers onto his ears. The synthetic dial tone played for less than a second before a clunk and a hiss signified his partner had answered.

"Gary!" a familiar voice enthused from the speakers. "Finally!"

Wincing, Gary dropped the volume with a few clicks of his mouse. "Hey, Jared. Sorry, I don't know what was going on there. Wasn't picking up any DNS servers."

"Well, that sucks. What's up with your ISP?"

"I have no idea. There's a snowstorm coming up from the south, but I don't see how that could affect it. No idea, I don't care. Seems fine now." Gary shrugged pointlessly and settled back in his comfy chair. He grinned right at the visage of the serval on his screen. "I'd rather know what's up with you!"

After a few laggy seconds, the image of Jared just shrugged. "Well... It's like I thought. Mom's sick, but the worst seems to be over for now."

"Do you know what it is? I mean, what is it? What's wrong?"

Jared swallowed, and Gary was sure a shadow passed over the younger feline's face. "They're not sure. They think it might be, uh, A.L.S. Lou Gehrig's Disease."

"... Oh."

For a moment, Jared looked lost. Gary found himself sitting up, edging closer to the webcam. "It's... actually pretty advanced. We- Nobody was with her. We never knew. She never went to see anyone until now. She's on a respirator now." He blinked vaguely. "She's probably got a year."

"Jared... I'm sorry man."

"She's only sixty-one." The serval sighed and wiped at an eye. "It's just- Ugh, sorry."

"It's alright. Is everyone there now? Got the whole family there?" Gary smiled slightly.

"Well, yeah, but it isn't much of a reunion. Everyone's a little down. Obviously." After a second, Jared straightened and cleared his throat. "But, yeah, that's what I want to talk about.

"What's up?"

Through the high-resolution webcam, Gary watched patiently as Jared shifted uncomfortably on his chair. Somehow, he actually knew what was coming. It didn't need saying.

"I'll be here until she goes." Jared let out an explosive breath. "I'm gonna be with her to the end, and let her know that, well, I love her. I can't- I can't make that mistake."

"Of course." Gary just smiled. "A year at least. Hopefully longer."

"Yeah."

"It's alright, Jared. I understand. You don't need to explain a thing. Just keep my posted, okay?"

"Alright." Jared forced a grin. "So, what's going on on your end?"

Gary's heart decided to miss a few beats. "Uh, well. Okay. I sorted it out. I'm taking the kid back. So... I might be a dad when you get back here."

"That's so awesome, man!"

The cheetah raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, we'll see. It isn't gonna be easy." He tapped his fingertips together. Trying to put his thoughts into words. "If I'm being honest, Nick is definitely gonna be a handful. I can't see this working out perfectly. We had some rocky moments in those few weeks."

"I don't think any dad has never had a rocky moment with his kid, Gary. Gotta be reasonable."

"Yeah, that's true. He'll be here in the next few days I guess - unless he freaks out at the last second." Gary snorted. "Déjà vu."

"Well, I'm hoping it works out. You gotta keep me posted. Also, you gotta set up this server so we can get to gaming!" Jared chuckled. "I've got places to go, bitch! Let's kill some orcs! We can keep talking while we get to slaughterin'!"

"Alright, addict, give me a second." They shared a smirk.

"Pfft to you." The serval broke into a huge smile - one that showed shades of relief, Gary thought. A few hours of mindless gaming certainly did seem like a good plan, all things considered. "So, hey, still got your eye on Randy's job? Or are you seriously contemplating that move to systems?"

"Sort of. Kind of sick of being treated like a monkey at a typewriter. But I kinda think I've got enough on my plate already." Gary leaned across his desk and picked up the beer he'd opened almost ten minutes ago. "Alright, dude, server's up. Let's go."

"Gladly. Your ass is mine."

"Oh, hell no," drawled Gary, cracking his fingers. "Historical precedent suggests it's the other way around."

"That depends on if you mean in the bedroom or the battlefield."

Immediately, Gary blushed so hard he thought he'd spontaneously combust.

"Oh my god, are you really still here?"

"Hm?" Czejak twitched, looking up from his desk for the first time in memory. "Karen? What's the matter? What time is it?"

"Seven. I forgot my phone charger." The lapin crossed her arms in front of her thick coat. "There's a storm coming, Andrei. You won't get home if you don't go now."

Pain suddenly blossomed in Czejak's right paw, like a pile of desiccated leaves catching aflame. He hissed and grabbed at his wrist, squeezing tight.

"Andrei." Karen slowly shook her head. "There's paperwork and then there's self-mutilation. Does all this really need to be done tonight?"

The coyote sighed. With mild hesitation, he pushed the sheet of paper out from under his nose. "If I'm being honest," he murmured, "no, it doesn't. There's probably no point in doing it whatsoever."

"What is it anyway?"

Czejak shrugged. "Formal complaint. I'm not sure if I intend to send it off or not - won't change much."

"Then stop. Please." Resting against the office doorframe, Karen appraised her employer. "Is there anything in the DSM about being a workaholic?"

"Sort of." Staring at the paper until his own handwriting, made spidery and illegible by fatigue, blurred into a blob of gray, Czejak found his previous train of thought completely exchanged with thoughts of a warm, soft bed. It didn't even matter whose. "It's not that, Karen. I'm... I know exactly what I'm doing." Briefly, he pushed his paws over his face, squeezing his long muzzle and covering his sore eyes. "Ugh. When I do nothing..."

"Andrei...?"

"When I do nothing, I'm scared." For a moment, Czejak felt heavy. Congested. "I know. I know what I'm doing to myself, Karen, I swear. Don't think for a moment that I don't know, and I know you're worried for me. But I can't stop for long. I just can't do it. The worse the stress... the worse it gets. I know."

Somehow, he never noticed her getting closer, but when Karen spoke again, her voice was right by his ears. "Andrei, for me? Go home. Try to let it go. Just for tonight."

Let it go.

"... Alright. I'll go home." Lowering his paws, he managed to smile at his secretary - who was hovering right by him with an anxious expression.

"Please. Take tomorrow off. You have no appointments, Andrei. None. Take another day off. I'm asking you as a friend - you're going to burn out, I've seen it before."

"Again," murmured the coyote. "Alright, Karen."

"Are you going to take the day off tomorrow?" she pressed. "And, by that, I don't mean, 'spend from dawn until dusk doing your paperwork at your home desk'. I know, here." The big-eared lapin held out her handbag and started to dig around. After a second, she placed two coupons on the desk. "Get yourself a movie. Get two, in fact. Something light-hearted. Stand-up comedy. If you don't watch them tonight, spend tomorrow just relaxing."

"Karen, I have a lot to do, I can't -"

"You can't keep this up, Andrei. You've always been overworking yourself, but in recent months it's gotten ridiculous." Karen straightened and folded her arms. "Enough is enough, Andrei. You're sitting in your office at seven in the evening and you didn't even hear me come in. If you're going to be a workaholic, you might as well analyze your own behavior from a professional standpoint." She smiled wanly, reaching out to pull the pen from Czejak's paw - he hadn't realized he was still holding it. "Or from the point of view of a friend."

The coyote swallowed. He felt oddly out of sorts all of sudden. "Well. I... I appreciate the concern, but there's a lot to do."

For a moment, Karen shut her eyes. "Doc," she said shortly. Something about her inflection was oddly familiar. "It really seems like you're so used to worrying about others and complaining about how cold the world is that you've forgotten you aren't the only one who cares. Go home, Andrei. You're really scaring me."

Perhaps she was right. Despite his years of study, and years of experience, Czejak had to wonder if that wasn't exactly correct: maybe he'd mentally cornered himself.

Wasn't that a thought? He'd convinced himself that he was the only person who gave a crap. He knew that wasn't true, but perhaps he wasn't letting the truth guide his own behavior.

"Go home, Andrei. Go to bed."

But what could he do...?

"Alright." Czejak smiled, hoping the deception would serve. "I will. I promise."

"Good." Still with her arms folded, Karen reached out and flipped over the sheet of paper Czejak had been scribbling on. "Now get the hell out of here. And give me the keys. You're not getting in here tomorrow.

"Karen..." murmured the coyote reproachfully. "Don't you trust me?" He shot her a look.

"No. I don't. Go home, Andrei, and stay there."

Chase felt like a total idiot.

Huddled pathetically behind a recycling dumpster, his skinny backside on the frigid concrete as he hugged his knees to his chest, the clouded leopard boy was strongly considering hitting himself with something.

The sky above was pitch black, even though it was not that late, as clouds obscured the sky, and grumbling thunder contended with the sound of traffic. The air was cold and heavy.

And Chase had refused to go to the police station for shelter; not even a homeless or youth shelter would do, as Chase didn't trust them an inch. The chance they'd call the cops, and Chase would find himself cornered by uniformed dicks with handcuffs, was not one he wanted to take.

At least, that's what he told himself a few hours ago, when he didn't realize that he was about to be caught outside in the alleyways of a small town, little shelter to be found, as a storm threatened to wash him out.

He leaned forward and glanced across and down the street beyond his little alley. He'd taken up residence behind what he guessed was a doctor's office or something; just down a ways from that Doctor Czejak's place.

Chase had been waiting for hours, but he hadn't seen the coyote come out of the building yet. It was possible that there was a back door.

He sighed. There was nowhere he had seen that really provided him with good shelter, at least not overnight. This smaller, quieter suburb was more spaced out. There was a park a block away, but Chase wasn't sure he wanted to try that. Parks were often dangerous at night, especially for kids. If he remembered right, Nick had been beaten and raped in the first park he tried to sleep overnight in. That's the kind of story that made Chase wary.

Idly, the teenager stretched his paws up, pointing his toes in his ratty shoes, then tapped them on the ground heavily. His eyes lost focus.

He really missed Nick. The cheetah had started off standoffish, cleared scared and trying to hide it, but soon revealed a totally different side.

At first, Nick was very leery of them all. It was a miracle he'd followed Kyle back to their house in the first place. It must've taken a lot more trust than he was used to giving. But, eventually, he relaxed. Almost immediately, Chase had crush on the younger kit, and it only got stronger as time went by.

Thinking of Nick's misadventures in that park made Chase think. The house-mates had always been accepting - Chase didn't even bother trying to hide why he had run away. That he found other boys attractive and all that. To his shock, the others not only accepted it, but admitted they felt the same, a little bit. Jack said he would take a girl, but he wouldn't say no to a good looking guy. It was just such a shock to Chase. They had lived such cold lives, they were glad to know they could accept a little warmth from each other.

And they did. It was sad to know that while Nick was probably still recovering from his ordeal, Chase was finally growing up in an environment that accepted him for who he was, and let him accept his own sexuality. A far cry from the "sexuality" Nick was forced to endure.

... Then again, Chase had heard before that rape wasn't always about sex. It was about hurting them and feeling like you're stronger than them/ That was probably what it really was.

Even though that happened to him, when Nick did finally join them, and the subtle fear had ebbed away, the cheetah proved to be oddly affectionate. Little moments, little hints here and there that he wasn't the tough, gamy person he showed them at first; more and more as the months went on.

Eventually, it happened. With a little encouragement from the others. It was odd to think that Nick had been raped, and yet in the last few months before his disappearance, they had slept close every night, often nude, drunk and...

Chase swallowed, his pulse quickening. But it was all overlaid with a feeling of profound sadness. Knowing that nothing like it might ever happen again.

Oh, fuck. He missed the cheetah. Badly.

The more Chase thought about it, the more he started to think the videos were entirely a ruse. They never saw any money from the videos because they were never sold to anyone. After all, Chase never saw Chris selling them. It was all just a trick to get he and Nick over their shyness. The others were playing fucking matchmaker with the youngest pair, and probably getting some entertainment themselves.

It worked. They'd all often lounge, usually half-dressed and half-drunk, about the house, and it didn't take long for Nick to finally show his soft-side; he and Chase were rarely apart, and in moments of privacy, it took only a little boldness from Chase to press things a little further. The cheetah was actually really cute, in an awkward way, when he let his guard down.

... Those motherfuckers... Not that Chase regretted it. Not really. It's not like it hurt him or anything. He just wished Chris and the others had been fuckin' honest about everything. Like they all promised each other they would be.

Shit. He had to think more about this...

But not now.

He heard a thump and scooted forwards again. He spied a figure with sandy-grey ears, wrapped in a thick coat, preparing to brave the strong winds.

Finally!

Chase scampered awkwardly to his feet and darted to the roadside. With a quick glance both ways, he ran across. "Hey, hold on!" he called.

To his immense relief, Czejak did. Surprised, the coyote looked over at him. "Oh, Chase!" he said, fixing his jacket's thick belt. "I wondered where you'd got to."

With a hop, Chase came to a stop. "I didn't go far." He gave a slight half-smirk. "There's not much around here."

"I know. Quiet part of town. I've got to get home though; there's a storm coming."

The leopard swore, looking at the sky. "Yeah, I thought so."

"Have you got anywhere to go? It's going to be rough."

Chase shook his head. "Naw." He paused. "I'll be fine."

"If you don't get at least a proper roof over your head, I'm not so sure about that." Czejak rubbed at his face momentarily. "... Ugh."

"What's up?"

The coyote pondered something, his brow furrowed in contemplation. Chase raised an eyebrow.

"... I'm just tired, Chase, that's all." Czejak grinned. "Not the best condition..."

"Huh?"

The coyote shifted his weight, eying the teenager. "You won't go to a shelter, will you?" he 'asked.'

"Fuck no. Like I said."

"Alright." Again, Czejak seemed to think about something. "Okay. Chase, I wouldn't normally make this offer; I think I'm too tired to think straight, but I think you're a good kid. Just like Nick, really."

"What... you mean-?"

"Yeah. Would you like to stay at my place tonight?" Czejak rubbed his own head. "I've got a garage extension I turned into an extra guest room. It's set apart from the rest of the house."

The teenager's jaw dropped. "Wait..." he gawked. "Seriously?"

"Yes. You said you wanted to get things fixed, so it doesn't make much sense for you to stay on the streets like this every night." Czejak shrugged. "I more than understand if you don't trust me or don't feel comfortable taking my offer, Chase. It's weird for me too. But there's no need for you to keep living like this. You could stay with me until I find someone to look after you."

After a few seconds, Chase recovered. "You gonna call the cops?" he demanded.

"Of course not. Why would I? It's a garage extension too; you're separate from the rest of the house. You won't have to deal with me if you don't want to." The coyote paused. "You don't have to or anything. But why not just give it a chance? This storm's going to be bad."

"I... Shit, for real?" Chase was legitimately blown away. Some hospitality and support, an informal arrangement with others in similar situations - like Chris and the others - was one thing. An offer like this from a... guy like Czejak was just unreal. The leopard blinked.

He had hoped the coyote could help him avoid the storm, but he didn't expect this.

"Why not?" Czejak nodded down the road. "Come and at least take a look. Remember: I won't call the cops, you can leave at any time, and it will only be for a few days at most." He frowned. "Actually, it will have to be for a few days at the most. I can't harbor you for long."

Nonplussed, Chase just stared at the adult.

... For some reason, he trusted the coyote. After all, he'd decided long ago that it was all or nothing; by himself, he'd never get anywhere. Chase knew that.

If he couldn't trust Czejak now, then it wasn't worth running away. It was that simple.

He nodded. "... A-a'ight. I guess."

"Three things, though." Czejak looked at the kid, a sparkle in his eye. "First, you'll have to trust me enough to get in the same car as me. Secondly, you have to swear you'll take a shower - no offense, but you're a little grubby and the guest room has its own."

No arguments there. The second Chase saw a bathroom, no force on Earth would stop him. "What's the third thing?"

"Third thing is, I just got told to take a few days off and go rent a movie. So we're going to stop at the nearest video store and you're not allowed to give me crap about what I rent."

Chase smiled. The coyote's dry, somewhat awkward humor was kind of disarming. The guy was just... really nice. "You know what?" he drawled. "Sounds good."

The stinging was ebbing away, but Nick still found himself staring in morbid fascination at the marks on his paws. Intricate patterns, red scratches and pin-pricks that matched the pain like a map. There was a similar pain on his knees; if he pulled up his tracksuit pants, the kit was sure he'd see blood in his fur.

Tripping during runs was not unheard of. Thankfully, he was nearly finished with the punishment sessions - and Mister Kincaid, the fox counselor, was not as cruel as he often appeared. He would work them to exhaustion and humiliation on the quad, but the surly vulpine often was the first to give the boys a break.

This was another one. After picking the kit up off the ground, the counselor realized Nick had skinned his paws and decided to end the session there. Nick was a tough kit, and he didn't feel a compulsion to cry just from the pain alone.

... It did fuckin' hurt though. Once again, he swore to himself and tried to shake away the soreness, waving his hands in the cold evening air.

His breathing had slowed at last, but it felt like his throat had been cut to ribbons. It hadn't been his worst PE session ever, but it was definitely a bad one. At first, Nick had been afraid it was going to be even worse. The grownups seemed pissed off. Just scary. He was worried they'd yell at him for hours or hurt him. But they didn't. They calmed down.

But that didn't mean he felt okay.

He swallowed and tried to steady his shaky legs. A wave of tiredness washed over him, and Nick blinked rapidly. Tomorrow, and probably the next few days afterwards, were going to be filled with even more pain.

You never really got used to this stuff.

The punishment sessions were aptly named. As unpleasant as they were at first, they were designed to never get easy, exhausting muscles and leaving you faint all over, and Nick was surprised to find himself in serious agony the morning after his first one - a mere week at the center. In fact, that pain had been worse than the actual session, and the session had been hellish.

Thanks to dozens upon dozens of squats and thrusts, his leg muscles had been so sore, so stiff, that he could barely shuffle. The occasional painful seizure would bring him to his knees or collapse him entirely. He couldn't hold anything, because of constant pain in his chest and up through his arms.

One time, he wasn't able to bend his elbows or shoulders for two days without excruciating pain. He just had to walk around with them tucked awkwardly at his chest.

He had looked like a fuckin' dinosaur.

Though he had an injury today, Kincaid had mostly worked around it. But his sprained wrist still throbbed now - when he fell, he instinctively put his paws out to catch himself.

But at least it was all over. He had endured a lot worse - with the adults screaming and yelling and freaking him the shit out. Today, it was all business. They didn't even scream at him when he failed to do everything perfectly.

"Stand straight," he heard the leopard guard admonish him from behind. "Mister Kincaid is coming back now."

Nick just nodded, straightening up.

A few seconds later, he heard the side door open and the fox counselor's voice. "Come on, let's get to the showers."

As ordered, Nick turned and made his way back inside. The frigid outdoor air was nice at first, but he was starting to shiver now, as his already sore muscles began to seize. It wasn't easy to walk, though.

Soon, Nick allowed himself to be led into the showers. The leopard guard was dismissed, and Kincaid escorted Nick over to the benches, where a small first aid bag was already placed.

"This is going to sting." The counselor opened the bag. "Did you skin your knees, too?"

"... I think so. Sir." That last word still felt weird to Nick, even after all the time they'd forced him to use it here. It had become a meaningless sound now; he was starting to get into the habit of adding it at the end of every sentence.

"I thought so." Kincaid sighed. "Get under the shower, then I've got to dress those scratches. Strip, go on."

There was no point arguing. The kit did so, feeling slightly uneasy.

This place had made him feel ashamed and scared of being naked, even as they ironically forced him to be nude in front of the others literally hundreds of times now. That wasn't lost on Nick.

The strip-searches didn't help at all.

He pulled his t-shirt off, along with the white undershirt beneath. It was wet with his own perspiration by now, and his fur beneath was damp and slightly matted. He laid it on the bench, and started to work down his underwear and track-pants. Thankfully, Kincaid never bothered to look. He just laid some things on the bench and got up to turn on the water.

Steeling himself, Nick stepped under the lukewarm spray, rubbing the dirt and sweat out of his fur as best he could with such sore paws.

He looked around. The slimy, gray-ish tiles had become so familiar to him now. This was one of the places he had spent the most time in over the last year, strangely. Every day, twice a day at least, the staff made them shower under the barely-warm water and pale fluorescent lights.

It was just a part of every day now.

But he was gonna be leaving here soon. He'd never have to be stuck in here again...

Quickly and efficiently, Nick cupped water in his sore paws and scrubbed his body down. Turning away from the adult, he made sure to give his groin a rinse too. That was another thing that struck him as stupid - they weren't allowed to touch themselves there, at least not obviously, but they were meant to wash. Even Nick knew to wash down there, and after being told he stunk not long ago, he didn't want to miss anything.

Again, he found himself thinking about the sweet smelling lotions and soaps at Gary's house. Maybe that had been Gary's way of telling him the same thing.

"Alright, finish up."

Nick mumbled his agreement and started to do so. He worked the dirt from his legs, and even took the time to rinse his foot-paws. When Kincaid turned the water off, Nick made his way back to the bench, shivering.

When he had finished drying, the adult scooted closer. "Alright. Hold on, let's get this done." He held up a brown plastic container and a cotton ball. When Nick reached for his briefs, he shook his head. "Don't go putting those dirty things back on. I'm only going to be a second."

Whatever, Nick thought. Kincaid never seemed to really care. At least he hoped so, since the grownup ordered him closer.

As expected, it did sting. The brown liquid burned like a flame, and Nick only avoided cursing aloud by hissing like an angry snake. It hurt much less on his knees, though. They weren't as badly scratched up. It was more disconcerting to have the grownup's expressionless face near his junk as he applied the disinfectant.

Kincaid finished up, daubing away the excess liquid and letting Nick go. "Get the clean pair over there on and pants at least. You've got something to do before lights out."

Several moments later, Nick was dressed again, following the fox from the showers, down the corridors. It was with mild confusion that Nick realized he was being taken to the rooms normally reserved for Group meetings. But with everyone either in bed or doing last minute chores, Nick was sure that wasn't the deal.

They passed his usual room, heading towards the ones on the farthest end of the main building. Oddly distracted, Nick took in his surroundings - hopefully for what was the last time.

The scratchy blue-gray carpeting, the off-white walls... Somewhere in the back of his head, it reminded him of his old elementary school back when he was six or so. What little he could remember of it, anyway. Only with... much less color. Nothing. This place wasn't just boring. It was scary. Empty and just wrong. That's how he felt when he was first brought here. Well, once he move far enough past his sheer fury at everyone and everything to feel anything else and really think about where he was.

"In here, Nick." Kincaid stopped and opened a door. "Wait in here a minute."

Nick nodded. He hesitated before stepping through the doorway, and slowly half-raised his paw.

"What is it?"

"... Uh. Wh- Can you tell me what's goin' on?" Nick murmured.

"I don't know. Someone wants to talk to you before you leave soon. It isn't my business." Again, Kincaid nodded through the door. "Come on."

Wordlessly, Nick passed into the room. It was shut and locked behind him, as the counselor gave him a perfunctory good-night.

Alone at last, Nick just wandered over to the far side of the room and sat down on one of the chairs still left over from the last Group meeting to take place there, in the usual semi-circle. He made sure not to touch the seat in the front - the padded office chair was for the staff only. Last thing he wanted to deal with was someone to burst in on him while his ass was on the "wrong" chair.

Thoughtful, Nick hung his head and rested on his knees.

Whatever this was, it probably had to do with the fact he was leaving soon. Something he still wasn't sure how to feel about. It did feel nice to have that... feeling of knowing what was happening. To know that he had made a decision.

Even for him, it was hard to understand how this felt.

Going back to Gary felt like... a good thing. He wanted to go back to the older cheetah. He wanted the freedom, he wanted to be away from all this. But Nick was used to things just turning to shit on him... going back there made him feel good, but it also made him scared... and sad. Because if something was good, it never lasted for Nick.

After all, Gary had proven that once again the first time. Nick was still unconvinced it would be different this time. It never was.

The door clunked and was brusquely pushed open. Nick's head snapped up - and immediately felt his heart constrict.

The lynx stepped in, holding a black duffel bag. He glared steadily at Nick as he shut the door, locking it with a key.

... What the fuck was going on?! Nick couldn't help it: he slipped off the chair and scampered backwards.

"Where do you think you're going?" growled the lynx, hefting the bag to his chest with one arm. He pointed at the floor in front of him. "Come 'ere."

Nick froze. He eyed the adult warily, still.

"MOVE!"

The yell made him flinch. Somehow, Nick managed to inch closer. The closer he got, the more he wanted to shrink away to nothing. To collapse. The lynx just waited until Nick made it to a few feet from him.

Shaking, the cheetah boy just stood, eyes downcast. All he could see was the lower half of the stocky adult. Thick legs in denim jeans. Black half-boots.

The image started to distort as tears came unbidden. He didn't know exactly what was coming, but he knew it was bad.

"I told you this would happen."

The deep bass surprised him. Nick closed his eyes tight.

"Bend over that chair." The lynx's voice had an acid edge to it. He reached into the duffel bag - Nick had a good idea what he was getting. "Don't get a fuckin' hard on or nothing like that. I don't need that from you."

Nick clenched all over, his paws tightening into fists. "Fuck you."

"Yeah. And that's why this is happening. Go on, Nick. Nobody can hear us. Make it worse for yourself. Like you always do."

But the cheetah boy just slouched. Defeated.

He'd been here before. He couldn't stop this. He never could.

Panicked welled up within him, so he gripped the chair tighter.

He couldn't stop this... but he was still going to fight it.

This time, he was gonna hold on.

---

End of Chapter Seven

• Kichigai Kitsune, 2013