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Zachary flicked on the bedside light, shut off the alarm that would ring in another fifteen minutes anyway. He hadn't slept much, and it was almost time for him to meet Eoin for the morning jog. Maybe the run would help clear his head, blow out the cobwebs, get rid of the traces of bad dreams. He never used to have bad dreams. He never used to dream at all, so far as he knew. It was as if his mental theater shut down during sleep. He imagined a condemned building with a torn screen, moldy seats, the popcorn-maker smashed...

(fresh popcorn, Harm, let's get some)

He sat up in the bed, rubbing his temples slowly. He had lain awake for a long time after his talk with Benedict. Something he'd said, about not being able to talk to someone he loved. And just who was that supposed to be? Should have been Pris, or at least that's what he'd been telling himself all this time. It's not like he'd had a lifetime of experience with love, after all; he owned the whole foster kid portfolio, feeling like another nobody, no one of consequence, no one to be considered...

(we could get away, Harm, we could go...)

Throwing the covers away from himself, the Akita got out of bed quickly and paced around the room for a few moments. Damn the drake anyway, what the hell did he know about it? He grunted, rubbing a forepaw across his forehead. He felt that old ache, that irritation that told him he was just plain thinking too much. He needed a run, to get out into the cold air, to make his brain stop spinning. He could nap later. Right now, he just wanted to run, just freakin' run, get out there and...

Zachary heard the almost tentative knocking at his door just as he was shucking on his running gear. "Be right out," he called.

"I'll be out front," Eoin's voice assured him.

The Akita snorted quietly, wondering if he should go out the back and avoid the lanky Saluki altogether. Not like he wasn't going to outrun the pup anyway, even though it would be only a five-mile maintenance run. No reason to think the skinny whelp should be able to keep up. Might be good just to show him a lesson, so he didn't get ideas.

Stepping into the dark morning chill outside the front door, he found Eoin doing ski stretches using a metal bar set into the stone of the side of the house. Zachary had thought it existed for chaining bicycles, but the Saluki was using it to good advantage, like a ballet bar at a dance studio. He looked up at the athlete and smiled. "Good morning! Hope you slept well."

"Not bad." The Akita performed some basic leg and tendon stretches as he watched the other canine work through a rapid series of stretches, shifting from one to the next as if performing some sort of choreography. Bundled up enough for the weather, Eoin still had his mane of headfur spilling out over his warm-up jacket, the white-gold fur a bright blur in the pre-dawn glow of the various lights around the house and neighborhood. For a moment, Zachary thought that it reminded him of something, but his mind dismissed the thought at once. There was something annoyingly perfect about the pup, but that didn't matter. He was about to find out who the top dog was.

"I'm not sure how well you know the neighborhood." Eoin performed some finishing stretches and stood before the Akita, smiling softly. "Part of the various 10K charity runs go past here, but if we cut off part of it, we can bring it down to five miles easily enough."

"I'll do 10K," Zachary said confidently. "You can take the short cuts if you want."

The grad student smiled, sort of greasily the athlete thought. "I'm game. Let's give the full course a try. C'mon, it's this way."

Jogging easily down the drive, the Saluki set a light pace to start with. Zachary smirked, thinking that it was probably about as fast as the little frilly-pup could deal with. He just hoped that the early morning dark kept away any gawkers who might recognize him; this, after all, is how rumors get started.

On the main road, the two runners were illumined by the mercurochrome pools of the occasional sodium-arc streetlamps. The Saluki's white-gold fur caught the light, while the Akita's _shimofuri-tora_salt and pepper brindle almost melted into the dark. For safety, both wore mesh vests lined with highly reflective yellow and orange strips, all the more easily to be seen by cars, if any were to show up at this hour. In truth, little stirred on the wide road; houses lay mostly dark save for the few lights in front door alcoves or over garage doors, a kitchen or two. It was Black Friday in more than one way. At the malls of suburbia, crowds had no doubt already gathered to begin the worshipful celebrations of that most sacred of American religions, Shopping. This section of town, close to campus and the downtown area, was mercifully spared from such blood sacrifices.

"This must be just a maintenance run for you," the Saluki offered conversationally.

"Pretty much," Zachary muttered. He still felt more irritated than not, especially after last night, but it had been a while since he'd had a companion of any kind for a run, and he felt at least a little bit obligated to try to be nice. "Football is a lot of stop-and-start running. Steady miles are for stamina. Like marathons."

"Out of my league!" Eoin laughed softly. "Closest I get is fartlek."

Somehow managing not to break his stride, the athlete said, "I know you didn't say something about licking farts."

The white-furred canine grinned. "Everybody says that. In Denmark, speed limit signs read 'fartkontrol,' which makes everyone laugh. 'Fartlek' is Swedish, actually; means 'speed play.' It combines jogging and sprinting, as practice for real-life races like marathons. Ever notice how runners will clump together, then a few will sprint a short distance to pull ahead of the pack? That's what the fartlek trains you for." He cast an eye to Zachary. "There are a couple of spots along this route where we can run a measured 50 meters as a sprint, then fall back to the steady pace. Want to try it?"

Gonna challenge me, sissy-fur? "Sure."

"Great! First one's a little ways ahead; get ourselves warmed up first."

The run, which had begun at a jogger's ten-minute mile pace, had settled into what Zachary estimated to be a decent seven-minute mile. They were coming up to the edge of the downtown area, near to where someone had erected a statue to someone Zachary couldn't have cared about, much less named. This was what the Saluki pointed out as they approached it.

"When you get even with Disraeli up there, punch it as hard as you can to the fountain down the left fork there... see it? That's 50 meters."

As he came up to the edge of the statue, the athlete ducked his head a little and took off at his best charging tackle speed, visualizing a vulnerable quarterback where the fountain stood. He expected to leave the slender fag in the dust and was surprised when they finished more or less together, falling back into their original pace. Zachary himself felt a little winded, and he was satisfied to see that the Saluki was panting at least as much.

"Nice dash!" the grad student said. The Akita felt as if he were some sort of Special Olympics candidate. Try getting run over by the big boys, frilly-pup, he thought harshly, where that damn dragon can't protect you.

"Thanks," he voiced, trying to keep up appearances. That was always important, he'd been taught, to keep up a good front. It's important not to let anyone think that they have the advantage on you, and some things are best kept quiet. There's just some things you don't talk about. Whatever you do, just don't talk about it. Never, never talk about it...

The jog continued through part of the downtown area that had yet to waken. A patrol car passed by, flashed its headlights at them. Eoin didn't break stride, grinned and waved at the officers who waved back.

"Larry and Hank," the Saluki explained through his short breaths. "They usually cruise here about this time. One reason I feel safe running down here at this hour. Great guys."

"Gay?"

Eoin paused, still jogging. "Not that I'm aware of."

The athlete ground his teeth slightly.

"Another sprint point up ahead." The Saluki pointed out the markers, and Zachary put enough into the burst to feel the burn in his legs. He dug his hindpaws into the effort, pumping his arms, throwing his whole body into it. He was glad to realize that he beat the arrogant pup to the finish point, but he was irritated to discover that he hadn't won the race by much - a step or two at the most. Eoin again complimented him, and the pattern repeated itself twice more before they finished the circuit and ended up back at the house. Both were panting heavily, as would anyone who had expended that much energy, but the athlete couldn't help the feeling that the damned faggot had somehow beaten him.

They had slowed to a fast walk for the last hundred meters or so, as a cool-down. It was still dark; the sun wouldn't rise for perhaps another hour. Zachary would have been happy to set the level of conversation to zero, but the Saluki seemed determined to keep up a patter no matter what.

"Thanks for the company, Zachary," the grad student said. "I usually run alone; it's a nice change. You can guess that Benedict doesn't do much jogging."

"Yeah, I can guess."

"Forgive me if I'm prying... everything going okay between you two?"

"What do you mean?"

"Only that I know you and he talked last night. He didn't speak of it when he came to bed. He doesn't talk about anything that's private."

"Then you should respect that."

They walked up the driveway toward the house, Eoin holding up a forepaw in a placating gesture. "I'm sorry; didn't mean to intrude. I'm only here to help, if I can."

Zachary yanked off the fluorescent vest as they got to the front door. "I don't need help."

The Saluki looked ashamed, or so thought the Akita, and damned well he should, the little fag. Prancing around like that, all that white-gold fur shining like he was some kind of albino mutant or something, some kind of precious gem of a canine, too delicate or special to be allowed to be out on his own. Zachary was surprised that his parents let him out of their sight, free to roam around and get seduced by males hell-bent on destroying families, reputations, empires...

"Zachary?"

He shook his head hard. What the hell...?

"Zachary? Are you okay?"

The Akita's breathing hadn't slowed down much; in fact, it had gotten worse. What the hell, what the fucking hell...!

"Zachary..."

He felt a paw to his shoulder, spun fast and lashed out a hard right cross, catching the Saluki square on the chin. The skinny little fag flew backward and crashed hard onto the front porch, rolled down the three steps and onto the walkway in a small pile. That'll teach the fucking perv, he thought, that'll show him who to call a pussy-scared cock-sucking ass-licker...

On the sidewalk in front of the house, Eoin moved slowly, carefully, getting up... _the stupid fucker is actually getting up!_Rising to his hindpaws, the Saluki brushed a forepaw against his chin, looking at the paw he drew back to prove that, yes, he was definitely bleeding. Panting lightly, the grad student looked the athlete in the eye, his gaze harder than anything that fragile and queer should be able to produce. He spat blood to one side, and in a low, soft voice said, "That's your one."

The Akita pivoted is ears forward, his eyes narrowing. "What did you say?"

"You get one shot," Eoin said softly. "That was it. I think it's time we brought Benedict in on this."

"Gonna run behind your dragon's tail for protection?" Zachary sneered. "I thought he'd be behind you instead of the other way around."

"Not anything you need to know. Inside. Now."

The athlete folded his arms, planted his hindpaws apart, and leered down at Eoin. "Make me."

"I'd rather not have to."

"As if you could, skinny-ass."

"Yes, in fact, I could. I'd just rather not."

Zachary laughed long and hard over that. "You gonna try some hong-kong-phooey on me or somethin'? I can snap you like a twig, faggot!"

"You're welcome to try." The Saluki paused for a long moment. "Unless you think you can't."

"Why you...!"

The former footballer sprang off the porch, throwing himself at the skinny cur like he used to do to offensive linemen, taking them down for the count... except that he landed on the blacktopped driveway instead. One second, his target was in front of him, the next, it wasn't. He had expected to land on top of the Saluki, otherwise he would have been able to tuck and roll like he was supposed to, but he still managed to get up quickly and turn to face the white-furred fag. The little fucker was standing there, legs slightly bent, his left forepaw in a "stop" gesture, and his right balled up with his thumb sticking out as if he were trying to hitch a ride.

Zachary charged again, and as he got close to the pup, he found the Saluki sidestepping again, his open left forepaw on his shoulder, and something small, hard, and painful thrust into his gut. He found the air vanishing from his lungs as he collapsed to the ground again, feeling the hard surface voicing its opinion on his knees. He struggled to get back on his hindpaws again, turning to face the fag again, back in that pansy-ass pose with the stop-paw and the thumb. If he could grab that arm, he'd break it enough to make sure that thumb never got used like this again...

Still trying to catch his breath, the athlete feinted to one side, catching the Saluki slightly off guard. He grabbed the pup's right arm and moved to pin it up and behind his back. Without warning, without a sound, the wiry pup spun around, his left arm flying in a sharp circle, and Zachary felt a hard, sharp pain in his right lower back, and he fell to the ground yet again, unable to keep his grip on the little faggot's scrawny arm. He lay for a few seconds, unable to fight the knot of fire in his back, something that almost made him feel like he had to piss himself.

"Stay there," the Saluki said, more advice than an order. "Please. Just stay there."

"Or what?"

"Zachary, please... just stay--"

With a roaring growl, the Akita fought his way back to his hindpaws, moving toward the fag out of nothing but adrenaline and brute force. He dug in hard and fast, his best tackling position, full-throttle, no holds barred, launching himself at the slender figure briefly illuminated by silently moving lights. Something shifted again, another pass into air, feeling his legs buckle as they tripped across something, and he fell to the ground yet again. In less time than it takes to think, he was rolled onto his back and something was pressed up under his throat, not quite cutting off his air, or maybe blood supply, or the nerves to make his muscles work, or...

"Now just fucking stay there." The growl was deep, strong, undeniable.

A car door slamming. Zachary was vaguely aware of paws moving toward him, of Eoin above him, the Saluki's forepaw ... no, just his thumb at his throat. And then the feeling of a huge hindclaw pressing on his middle, not enough to hurt, but enough to ensure that the Akita would not be moving. The thumb came away from his neck, and he took in a breath. He heard voices. Conversation. Shifted his head slightly, seeing that damned crimson dragon from a whole new perspective.

"I take it, Mr. Parker, that you will not cause further trouble if I let you up?"

Zachary made no move other than to nod his head once. The hindclaw was duly removed. The athlete took his time rising to a sitting position. He still felt the sharp jabs to his belly and his back, which were nothing compared to the burning shame and anger he felt in his face.

Benedict squatted before the young canine, a look in his eye that might have been the fire that caused the thin wisp of smoke to curl from his round nostrils. "Explain to me why I should not have you arrested, or at least put back into the secure ward of the hospital."

"He attacked me!"

The dragon rolled his eyes. "Something more original, if you don't mind."

"Benedict," Eoin said softly at his side, "he may have a point. After our run, when we got back here, he had a very strange look on his face, and he wasn't moving. I moved to help him, and I put a paw to his shoulder."

Without turning his eyes from Zachary, the dragon asked, "What did you see?"

"It's what I didn't see. He didn't respond to his name. I called out three times."

"Fugue?" the drake wondered aloud, considered a moment. "And next?"

"He whirled and decked me."

"And then he jumped me!" the Akita shouted.

"Mr. Parker," Benedict intoned, "I know perhaps fifty words - one as long as fifteen syllables - to describe that comment, but in this instance, I think that 'bullshit' will suffice. Eoin has been well trained in defensive arts; he would never intentionally start a fight, but as you've witnessed, he's excellent at finishing them." He paused. "I imagine that it's even colder on that tarmac than it is just standing out here. I suggest that we all go inside. If you're comfortable with that, Eoin?"

"I'll force myself."

"Good lad. I've already had one trip to the hospital this morning."

The dragon rose as Zachary managed to find his hindpaws. Eoin asked, "Who's in the hospital?"

"Jerry Bunting."

The athlete's fury vanished suddenly, his eyes wide with shock. "Why is he in hospital?"

"Apparently, he got himself drunk enough to proposition someone in the males' room of the local sports bar. He had the living shit kicked out of him." Benedict eyed the pup steadily. "He's got bruises, lacerations, cracked ribs, a broken arm, concussion, and may need some new teeth, courtesy of the repeated kicks he received while curled into a ball on the piss-room floor. He won't identify who did it. But before he passed out entirely, he did manage to tell me that it was your fault."

The dragon leaned in to put his face directly in front of Zachary's. "Perhaps you'd like to talk to him now."