Research
Technically, the night was still young, particularly for a Saturday, but Barton felt rather as if he'd already spent a whole week's worth of energy on the situation. Not unhappily, at least in terms of how things had ended up, but he was more tired than he had any expectation of being. Just as well he wasn't driving home tonight; easier to enjoy the couch. It was comfortable, convenient, and in some ways, it made him feel closer to Wallace than the house did, these days.
He was about to let himself land bodily onto the sofa, giving action to the term "crash," when he realized he was just a little bit keyed up still. He had a few things to think through, and the computer chair might be better for it. He noticed the reddish hue to the screen, smiled knowing that the Flux program had kicked in at sunset, just as it should. It would help him relax to have a bit more planning in place tomorrow.
He brought out a pad and paper to jot a few notes. He was a list-maker from way back, and even Wallace couldn't break him of the habit. There were a few friends he might be able to call who had some medical experience; maybe one of them would know what to do for the doe's (for lack of a better word) seizures. The buck's problems seemed to be all physical; the ribs of course needed to be bound until they healed properly (so conventional wisdom once said - that may have changed, by now), and although it looked like his leg was healed fine, it might take some stretching and manipulation to get the muscles to work to full capacity again. The words physical therapy appeared on the page, followed by low-income clinic and a question mark. He knew a few folks who worked at one nearby; they often had to deal with runaways - carefully, but discreetly if need be.
The badger stretched a little, uncomfortably bringing to mind a few things that Lyal had said. He put down the word _abuse_and then a dash, followed by _Firecat?_It would help to have an expert, and that would be the one to call. Information. That's what he needed, and lots of it.
An' after porn, o' course, he thought, what's th' Internet for?
Setting down the more primitive devices of communication, he turned to the keyboard and let his nimble fingers loose. He tapped in the kits names as close as he could spell them (first names; he had no idea what the last name might be) and waited what seemed like an eternity for the search engine to do its job. The first hits didn't seem like they'd be what he was looking for, though it was possible that the sex site... He frowned, hoping that there was no connection. Neither had mentioned being filmed, and here in the states, "kiddie porn" sites weren't likely to be readily available on normal search engines. He clicked back in the input bar and added "wolf" to the mix. The engine almost instantly asked if he'd meant to spell the names differently, and he clicked on the proffered alternatives. The screen nearly exploded with article listings.
Redclaw to stand trial!
Pack breaks up - the bunnies made me do it!
Lady Redclaw goes into seclusion
Where are the children?
Hospital staff speak up in the Redclaw case!
The butler did it!
Have you seen these kits?
Lawyer calls for the kits to come home!
Barton physically recoiled, grimacing at some of the details listed in the brief article descriptions. He hadn't the stomach to read the full details. It was like seeing the very worst of the tabloid rags all in one place. Worse, they seemed to have almost no relation to the kits at all, but more about the word "wolf" being used. Some of the posts were as recent as yesterday; that made no sense at all, if the kits had been on the run as long as Lyal had said. Wearily, he shut down the search engine, considered a quick game or six of solitaire, vetoing the idea; when he was tired, it was all too easy to become engrossed in a mindless activity, because the repetition became its own reason for continuing. He switched off the monitor and turned out the desk lamp. Sleep would be a better choice.
He stood slowly, peeled off his shirt, thought better of getting down to his skivvies; if the kits needed anything in the night, the last thing he needed to be was naked. Not that they'd mind, he suspected (was it a trait of rabbits, he wondered, to be so casual?), but whatever proprieties might yet exist should be seen to. He hung the shirt over the back of the computer chair and settled himself onto his sofa. He smiled to himself as he once again thought that it was one of the best investments he'd ever made, all the sweeter for being on sale. He pulled the light blanket up over himself, dug his head into the pillow a little, and did what he could to let himself drift. As always, his last thought was of Wallace. His next-to-last thought, however, had to do with ash-gray fur and a full head of curls...
* * * * * * * * * *
Barton found himself waking up, so like any logical thinker, his first idea was that he'd been asleep. No idea for how long. No idea why he was waking up. There was some cool air on his belly fur; the blanket had shifted... been moved? He still lay on his back. Dim light from some source (hallway?) created shadows in the room. One of the shadows knelt next to the sofa, moving slowly, pushing the blanket gently downward. Nimble fingers were moving...
He blinked a few times. His eyes widened a little, still seeing only shadow.
"Hey," he mumbled, "we talked abou' this!" He reached down just a moment to late to keep those fingers from reaching inside his open pants and finding the warmth of his sheath. He trembled at the sensation all but forgotten after so much time.
"Shh..."
Another forepaw pulled at the pants and undershorts even as the soft sibilant brushed warm air against the badger's sensitive fur. He let out a small moan, involuntarily, he didn't want to encourage the lad. He'd been good, said "no" to every advance, trying to strike some balance, wait for a better time, when he could think instead of just react ... as his body was reacting now. His own forepaw found the top of the rabbit's head, but instead of pushing away, his fingers made a home for themselves in the soft, silky curls. Warm breath was followed by the gentle touch of lips, and then a wet tongue teasing the opening of his sheath. He would break free of that sheath any moment, and he doubted he could stop then. Now... he had to stop it now... even if he wasn't sure he wanted to...
"Lyal," the old badger panted. "No, it's not..." He refrained from gripping the curly hair and yanking, that would be painful. He brought his other paw to the rabbit's head and tenderly pushed away, even as the maw gaped and tried to envelop him. He shoved his hips backward, away from the much-desired attention, tried to get some semblance of sanity back into his head, trying not to yank the long, long curls, the curls that fell so far that they reached the tail ...
The tail...?
Barton's eyes flew open wide, and even in the dim light, he caught sight of the face that was so close yet so different from the young buck he'd begun to crave. The long curls that fell down the bunny's back, almost all the way to her tail, confirmed the identification.
"LYRIS!" the old badger shouted. He wrested himself upward, sitting up on the sofa as best he could. The doe was still trying to fumble and tug at his sheath and balls, her fondling in part sparking the physiological reaction that his fear and astonishment was trying to quell.
"No, please," the doe said softly, her eyes full of pleading. "I want to make it up to you..."
The mane-dresser's forepaws took the young rabbit's face tenderly and made her focus on his face in the soft gloom. "Lyris... nae this way. Ye've nothin' t' make up for, lass, and certainly nae like this."
She hesitated, her forepaw still touching his sheath as if neither had anywhere better to go. "I... I want you to feel better. I want you to like me. Isn't this what you want? I know you'd rather have Lyal, but I could make you happy, too. I want to make you happy..."
The cracking in Barton's chest could have been his ribs, his heart, his very soul. "By th' gods, lass, what did they do t' ye?"
He shifted back on the sofa, grabbed the doe in his arms and pressed her to him as if stanching a life-threatening wound, his or hers he couldn't tell. After a tentative moment, she reached around to hug him, and he rocked her slowly back and forth, his eyes screwed up tight yet unable to fight off the tears. He had a whole litany of things to tell her, but for this moment, all he could do was hold her and cry long, silent tears on her shoulder. She wrapped her legs around him as she sat in his lap, and as she pressed her head to his chest, he could feel her tears there. Long moments passed until he finally raised his head and kissed her forehead chastely.
"Lyris..." His voice came out more like a sob than words. He tried again. "Lyris, I need ye t' hear me, littl'un. I do like you. I said that t' Lyal earlier tonight, ye c'n ask him; ye know he won't lie t' ye. I swear t' ye, lass, I swear I won't send ye away, and I won't try t' separate ye, and I won't try t' take him from ye."
"He might be better off," a tiny voice whispered against his chest.
Tenderly, the old badger pulled away to look into the young doe's face. "Why would ye say that?" he asked softly.
"This is all my fault," she hiccoughed through her tears. "Lyal wouldn't be in this mess if not for me. He deserves a chance at being happy. You could make him happy, keep him safe. I should leave and let him have his chance at being happy."
"Lyris, little lovely, d' ye really think he'd be happy wi'out ye?"
"But I did all this to him! If it weren't for me..."
"If it weren't for you, I'd probably be dead."
Both turned their heads to see the lean lapine form in the doorway. Shirtless still, bandages about his chest and upper belly reflecting some of the light from the hall, Lyal moved slowly toward the embraced couple, arms and ears relaxed and low.
"I'd have been dead without you, Lyss. He'd have let me die, if you hadn't stopped him, hadn't gotten me out... You've saved my life, not ruined it." He turned to look softly at Barton. "And don't worry. I know what... didn't happen. I didn't think it would. I know you're not like that, with either of us."
The old badger blushed, realizing that he was still largely undressed with a young female straddling his hips in the single most compromising position he could imagine. The buck smiled softly - not smirked, just smiled - and padded over to help his sister stand on her own, as Barton scrambled to reassemble his clothing. He watched as the doe embraced her twin with something that described more love and passion than society might consider appropriate, yet all the mane-dresser could feel was relief and happiness that the two were together, and safe, and might still be able to survive all this. Whatever other words might describe their relationship, "truly loving" was the phrase that overrode all else.
After long moments, the two separated slightly, and Lyal looked over to the badger. "We'll let you get back to sleep, sir."
"Doubt if I could, after all that," Barton grumped gently. "Come sit down, kits. I need t' know what's happened, all ye c'n tell me. I've already made up me mind that I'm here t' help. I've got friends in law, in medicine, and even a few clients who might be able to help wi' everythin' from clothes t' schoolin'. Did ye know one of 'em left a twenty in th' till, t' help get ye some food?" He smiled. "I've got good folk in m' life, and I think they'll help... but we've got t' get some things settled first. Y' know as well as me that my tryin' t' keep ye here without some legal authority is only goin' t' get ye bounced back into that horrible system yer runnin' from. So let's have the tale, all of it... and then I c'n really help."
Shyly, still uncertain, Lyris whispered, "Why?"
The badger's smile got a little larger. "Because I think I'm growin' from likin' ye t' lovin' ye, an' tha's nae a force to muck aboot with. So let's go through it, start t' finish. Mebbe we c'n write a happy endin' after all."
The two kits exchanged a long look, their ears doing that oddly precise dance-like movement that Barton had seen a few times before. He was now certain that it was some kind of silent speech, like sign language, but no doubt unique and exclusive to lapines. He could not translate it, but after only a few movements to each other, the doe lowered her eyes in what looked to Barton like defeat, terror, resignation. Her brother lifted up her chin, made her look at him, and he "talked" a bit more. After he stilled his ears, a very long moment passed as the doe seemed to collapse a bit further, but not so much in pain as a decision to face the inevitable. She pressed herself against her brother's chest and whimpered, "Yes."
Lyal hugged her tight and pulled her toward the couch. The buck sat, pulling his sister into his lap and keeping his arms around her. She didn't look up, keeping her face buried against his neck, her arms around his shoulders tight enough that it looked to the badger like she was never intending to let go, not ever, ever, ever again.
Pressing a kiss to her forehead, the buck lifted his eyes to Barton and began slowly. "We told you some of it before. Our parents were killed in a car accident when we were twelve. Our life before that seems like a dream." He paused as if remembering something happy, something that children should be able to remember... then his eyes darkened, and he went on. "We were sent to a state home for orphaned children. It wasn't bad there, as far as those kinds of homes go. I'm sure you've heard some of the horror stories that come out of those kind of places. Maybe we were just lucky, but we didn't have anything really bad happen to us during that time. The biggest problem was that we had a lot of caseworkers over the two years or so that we were there; what businesses call 'churn,' I think. About the time we would talk to one caseworker about our situation, we'd find ourselves assigned to someone else. The last one was a sweet old chipmunk; she was so happy for us when she told us we were being adopted." He paused to stroke his hand down his sister's back slowly, soothing the whimper that came out of her with that last word.
Barton grabbed the blanket that had been carelessly crumpled into a ball when he sat up and gently wrapped it around the two of them, before sitting sideways on the couch to face them. "She dinna ken ye well if she was new. But e'en if she knew ye, e'en wi' all the understandin' and fairness an' all else we praise so much in our mad world these days, how could she think that placing rabbits wi' wolves would be a good idea?"
The rabbits curled closer together under the blanket, the doe shaking still, but seeming to get better under her brother's tender care. "There are thousands of kits in those homes, Bar-- Sir. When someone passes the initial tests and is approved to adopt, the workers do their best... but with all the kits they have to look after..." He paused, repeated softly, as if trying to find forgiveness for them in his words. "Well... they do their best. We don't blame her for what happened; she couldn't have known."
Lyris turned her head at this point, her eyes glassy and almost unaware as she whispered, "She said she'd make sure our last name was fixed." The doe took a deep breath and went on. "There was a mistake in the spelling, you see. When we first got taken into the home, they misspelled our last name as Ruthchild... they left out the 's'." Her eyes shone with unshed tears as she added, "That's why we didn't get to go to Momma and Daddy's funeral." She went quiet again staring off into space.
Tightening his arms around her, the buck took up the tale again. "Right from the beginning, we were instructed to call her Mother and him Father. It's... a hard habit to break, so please forgive me if it sounds strange to be calling them that." He gathered himself and continued. "The first week wasn't so bad. Father was away on business when we arrived, so it was just Mother to start with. Mother had some strict rules - times for meals and baths and studying, where to be in the house, where not to be, all that sort of thing - but it wasn't anything really bad, nothing we couldn't handle. Then he came home."
Both rabbits shuddered at this point and held more tightly to each other. Barton could feel their fear almost as if he could smell it in the air. "He was more than just angry to find me there. He'd been expecting twin girls you see. He had specifically sought twin girls, especially rabbits. He wanted two beautiful does, just like my lovely sister." He paused to kiss her on the forehead and nuzzle her ear lightly.
Still glassy-eyed, the doe added, "It's my fault... if he'd thought I wasn't pretty... my fault for being pretty..." Lyal hushed her with another soft kiss, and his breath caught as he stifled a cry.
Barton couldn't help himself; he moved closer and ran a finger down her cheek lightly. "Nae, lassie; I be thinkin' whatever's t' follow was nae yer fault." The girl's eyes closed, and she pressed her cheek against the badger's hand.
"That night... that night before we ran off... _Father"_he spit out the word like vitriol "came to Lyss' room. They'd given us adjoining rooms, since we were supposed to both be girls; there was a walk-through closet and bathroom, with the bedrooms on either side. I heard the commotion; I ran in as fast as I could but..." The boy swallowed hard, his eyes turned away, seeing something that he might never un-see. "I couldn't stop him."
The badger held his breath, certain now of what was coming next. He would have saved the kit the pain of saying it, but he knew it had to be said. It all had to come out now. The buck took a deep breath and, in as steady a voice as he could manage, uttered four words that were filled with more pain and anger than any words Barton had ever heard before.
"He raped my sister."
The boy's arms tightened around the once-more trembling girl, holding her as if he could shield her from the pain of those memories. Silence filled the room; none of them could speak for many long moments. At length, it was the doe who broke the silence.
"What he did to you was worse, Ly." Finding some strength from somewhere, she turned her eyes on Barton and continued the boy's narrative even before the badger had properly processed all he'd been told so far. "He hurt Ly; hit him over and over, till he couldn't move. Then... right near the end, when I couldn't stop screaming... he shoved Lyal's face against my belly and nearly killed him!" She seemed unaware of the tears streaming down her face. "He told me if I didn't do what he wanted, he'd hurt Lyal, hurt him real bad, maybe even kill him! I could feel Lyal trying to breathe, not getting any air cause he was pressed so hard against my belly! That was worse than the pain that Father caused when he..." She broke off in a loud sob, turning her head and hiding her face against Lyal's chest once more.
Barton felt himself trembling, something between intense sorrow and blinding rage. Neither such extremes would help the kits right now, but he felt himself shaking, and he knew he had to do something. He took a very deep breath, and looked at them. "I must look a fright right now," he said, "because I feel like bloody hell. None of it is toward either of ye. I'm outraged by this, an' honestly, I want to find this wolf an' see what he's like on th' inside by tearin' up his outside."
He shook his head rapidly, held up a placating paw to the already terrorized rabbits. "I'm nae a violent feller, kits, truly I'm not. I might be Irish, and we've a reputation fer bein' quick wi' our fists and slow wi' our heads. I'd never hurt ye, an' n' matter how much I might dream o' bloody vengeance on this filthy excuse fer a wolf yer speakin' of, I'd still let th' law handle him. Mind ye, if they failed, I've got a 'Plan B' that'll take care o' the matter quite nicely. But that's only a last resort. Violence should ne'er be yer first choice, an' most often nae e'en yer last."
The old badger reached again for Lyris' forepaw, which she gave to him more willingly than before. "I need t' understand somethin', lass. Earlier tonight... Lyal helped ye through a spell, an' then tol' me a little about it. I don't want ye havin' t' fight anythin' like that again, especially nae s' close t' th' last. Are ye goin' t' be able t' finish this tale wi'out relivin' it all like that?"
The doe gripped his forepaw tightly, but managed to look at him directly through teary eyes. When she didn't answer after several seconds, Lyal managed to say, "I can. Enough for you to understand it, anyway."
Nodding, Barton squeezed Lyris' paw gently. "Yer nae alone, lass. And ye dinna cause this, nae a bit of it. None o' this is yer fault. And I promise ye both, on me word or me life, if either has value t' ye, yer never gonna have t' get close to this bastard of a wolf e'er again. I won' let it happen. We may have t' fight it through, courts and all, but ye've got me on yer side now, and I've got friends." He chuckled as he thought of a particular lion of his acquaintance, proud of his appearance (which Barton kept in fine form), strong enough to be gentle, and a fierce advocate of any who needed help. He was a hard-riding biker, the sort that didn't suffer fools at all much less gladly, and he was part of a group that did not tolerate anyone abusing a child. They, he realized, would be allies of the best possible sort - and they were on the right side of the law.
The old badger suddenly felt very strong. He patted Lyris' paw and returned it to her, rubbed Lyal's cheek tenderly, and nodded. "Let's hear it all, then. And after, I'm gonna tell ye just how we're gonna make it all work. Trust me, m' lovelies. The pain is about t' be over."
They both turned disbelieving eyes on the older male, and Barton realized that, in a way, he was as good as whistling past the graveyard. These two had no reason to think that they would ever be safe and sane and healthy again. After what they'd been through, they'd every reason to think otherwise. Even so, he saw that telling the story was actually helping to some degree. The old saying would have us believe that "a trouble shared is a trouble halved," but this trouble would be huge even if quartered.
Lryis shifted a little, swallowed hard, and sat up enough to face Barton more directly. "We were there for a little over two years. The agency sent in a few new caseworkers once in a while, to make sure we were settling in properly, but we couldn't tell them the truth. Even we didn't know the truth at first, not really. We were still just a little too young, you see. Or I was. He... the wolf, he waited. He threatened us, in little ways at first, seeming like a stern parent instead of..." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath trying to force the panic back down. "He would have killed Ly, I know he would have."
"Shhh... breathe, Lyss, just breathe." The buck pulled his sister to him yet again, feathering light kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, her lips. Barton kept silent, still feeling vaguely uncomfortable by the sight of the twins comforting each other more like lovers than siblings. He mitigated the feelings yet again by realizing just how much pain they'd already been through, and how love has to survive as best it can, especially when the hunger for it becomes overwhelming. He found himself amused by the way that they would put their muzzles close, lips not touching, but whiskers brushing each other tenderly, like the touch of butterfly wings. After a minute or so, the doe seemed less panicked, and Lyal went on.
"I doubt if I have to tell you about biology," he said, glib as you please. "Female rabbits go into heat once a year, generally, starting sometime after they hit puberty. Lyris and I were born in October; her first heat happened in April of last year, after we'd turned fifteen. We think it may have been pushed back because we were both in aggressive sports programs in school. Females are usually taken to a special all-female camp during those times, to prevent... accidents. Father" again the word spit as if it were excrement in his muzzle "told us he'd arranged for us to go to separate camps, so that we'd both be occupied with others and miss each other less. I spent four weeks in a soccer camp, getting better than ever. And Lyris..."
The buck's face was screwed up with intense pain. He squeezed the doe close, getting the strength to speak. "The pack owns several manor houses. She was taken to one that was to be vacant until the summer. No one there but a caretaker. She was..." Lyal's voice choked, and then he plunged on through it. "She was locked in a large empty room. For the whole four weeks. Food was slipped in through a kind of panel. For herself, and for the dog. A feral dog. A male German shepherd."
Barton felt as choked as the buck, as his mind played out for him the most horrible scenes he couldn't stop himself from imagining. His stomach lurched, and he tried desperately not to show it, for fear that the doe might think it was because of her.
Lyal pressed on. "This past April, we were sixteen. He didn't bother with the subterfuge by then. He collected her at the beginning of the month and locked her away in another wing of the house. He'd planned ahead; he made time for himself."
"All broken in, he told me." The doe stared out at nothing, telling, reliving. "That's the job of the omega, he said. To get me all ready..."
"Lyss, please..." Her brother held her tightly, tears in his eyes. Still, she went on.
"He made me beg." She was completely lost in the story now. "See, he said, see what a real alpha looks like? Make me want you, he said. Beg for me. Beg me to mate you. Omegas just have instinct, he said; alphas have power." Her voice deepened as her muzzle became a speaker for the hideous recording of his voice in her brain. "I have the power, rabbit, don't you ever forget that. Make me want you before I go break that pathetic twin of yours in half like the little faggot he is. Beg me, bunny, beg for your alpha..."
"STOP." Lyal didn't shout the word; he could barely speak anymore. He pressed his sister's head against his chest as the tears began to flow in earnest. The doe's eyes didn't change, still staring at something that poisoned her mind, but Barton could hear her humming... a little off key, but he recognized it was the song that Lyal himself had been singing to her when she had her collapse earlier. What little the badger knew about psychological trauma came into his mind. He'd have bet his tail that the song was something the kits had learned at their birth mother's side, and that the doe had created a hiding place in her head - a safe place, a refuge - behind a door locked by that musical key.
The buck stroked her long ears and ash-gray curls, his eyes still closed and leaking tears. "He brought her back to the main house too soon. Never found out why; some problem with his business, or with the pack, whatever. Mother couldn't be bothered to deal with us outside of her scheduled tasks for us. The bedrooms were connected. Sometimes, I heard her crying, sometimes moaning, and I wanted to help, I wanted..." He took a deep breath and looked at the badger with sad eyes. "I'd never been around a doe in heat before. I only went in to hold her, like when we were younger, to make her feel better. I didn't... it wasn't... I didn't plan to..."
Barton put a paw to the lad's shoulder and looked him levelly in the eye. "It's as ye said, lad... I know a bit about biology." And that, he realized, is how it started. An accident, a good intention, overtaken by a power that Nature herself had designed to be as irresistible as possible. These twins had become lovers first out of mere biological urges, but once the barrier had been broken, then mere biology had been pushed aside, and love had taken its place. The that desperate, need-filled caring on both their parts had become the only genuine love they had. No wonder, the badger realized, how tender they are toward each other.
"All the textbooks say that 'accidents' aren't supposed to happen between such close relatives. We didn't know that, and we didn't know about... preventions." Lyal looked deeply ashamed. "About a week or so later, she started getting sick in the morning. As if her body were trying to... get rid of something... something it wasn't supposed to..."
The buck began to sob, and Lyris came out of her light trance to reach up to stroke his face, his forehead, his long ears. "You don't have to..." she began.
He shook his head hard. "I can do this." It sounded to Barton as if he were trying to convince himself as much as anyone else. "The doctor who examined her called the wolf back immediately. The doctor was told to 'fix the problem,' and the wolf... he beat me." He yipped out a hysterical sound that was supposed to be a laugh. "That sounds so tame. You wondered how my ribs got injured. _HE_did it. He was insane, hitting and punching me, screaming that I'd 'broken his toy.' He pushed my face into Lyris' belly, as if he was trying to make me look close at what I'd done. He made her agree to the surgery, or he'd..."
The badger squeezed the kit's shoulder. "Ye told me that part," he whispered.
Lyal shook his head slowly. "If Frederick hadn't found me... Lyss is right, the wolf would have left me to die. He'd already taken Lyss into another room, for the doctor to..." He forced himself to breathe, slowly. "The last thing I remember before the hospital was Frederick telling me it was all right to pass out, that he'd take me somewhere safe. We owe that badger our lives, both of us. After he'd gotten me seen to, at the hospital, he had come back to the house to check on Lyris. The doctor had botched it. Frederick found Lyss a bathtub filled with warm water... and so much of her blood that she was barely conscious. He carried her to the hospital - literally, he couldn't find a car to drive, and he was too afraid to call an ambulance or a taxi or anything. He carried her for three miles to that hospital..."
He looked at Barton, the pain in his eyes almost too much to bear. "I found out later how close it was. She'd nearly bled out. Maybe that's what he'd wanted. But they fixed the problem. She won't be able to have kits, but she's alive."
Barton realized that the whimpering noise he heard had come from himself.
"The hospital was all but locked down; police everywhere. I still don't know why or how; if it was him, he'd have hired private security, to make sure no one found out about us. After about three days, we were able to see each other, and we tried to figure out how to get out of there. I still think we were lucky or had help, I don't know which. The hospital said they'd send us home on that Friday, and we got out of there the night before."
"Send ye home?" The badger couldn't keep the shock out of his voice. "Dinna they ken anythin' abou' this? Dinna they ask ye what had happened?"
"Who'd believe us?"
The old badger wasn't sure what emotions were churning in him - rage, frustration, pity, agony, empathy, fortitude, fear, a myriad others. Money talked, whether in whispers or in screams, in sincerity or in threats. This wolf, whoever he was, was undeniably made of money, in all the worst ways; there was no question that he'd manipulated the system already in order to adopt the rabbits, and the rest... they'd dropped plenty of hints that the damned canine was loaded. Not every cop could be bought - Barton had experience with very good cops, like Truman - but anyone with even a modicum of power could be tempted, and some could indeed be bought. Like every other system in existence, it could be manipulated, and usually with packets of anonymous cash.
It's what we have to live with, he heard Wallace's voice admitting softly in his head. But it's not how we have to live. Barton found himself nodded in agreement. Of all the feelings he wrestled with in those moments, only one was worth keeping. Only one was worth fighting for. Only one was worth living for.
Moving slowly, he raised himself to his knees on the couch and leaned in to cuddle the twins in as tight an embrace as he could muster. He kissed each on the forehead and pulled them against him as if never to let go. He felt Lyal's arms first, but after only a few moments, Lyris hugged him as well. They stayed that way for a very long time, tears and breath and emotions mingling until finally, within the small dimly lit room, nothing existed but three furs who were huddled together against whatever storms might come.
Barton finally leaned back but couldn't bring himself to stop touching the kits. He kept a forepaw on the arm of each of them, speaking softly.
"Ah Saints, I hope I don' screw this up," he said softly. "I can be a wordy ol' bugger, and frankly, I think it's time we got some sleep. So fer tonight, I'm just gonna ask ye t' believe me when I tell ye that I'm gonna help ye sort this. All of it. This is safe haven, an' I'm goin' t' start first thing t'morra t' make sure of it. For a time, we're gonna have to keep yer presence here a secret, and that might include havin' t' get ye moved somewhere else until we c'n figure out how t' keep ye out o' th' paws o' th' law. They'll only bollix it up, an' ye canna take nae more o' that. I'll see to it. Somehow, I'll see to it."
"Will that get you in trouble?" Lyris asked.
He shrugged, a wry grin on his muzzle. "Been there, done that, lass. Ripped up th' t-shirt! I'm nae very good at bein' a hero, but I'll try puttin' on th' cape fer you two. Now... I suggest we get a little sleep while there's still some night left to us. You two comfortable enough in yer room there?"
For a moment, the twins simply looked at each other, and Barton had the odd feeling that they were about to do that strange thing with their ears again. Instead, they just looked at each other, using their eyes to say things just as lovers might do. The old mane-dresser felt a little shy at witnessing it, but before he could turn away, they turned back to look at him.
"Could we... stay with you tonight?" It was the doe who asked, which surprised Barton no end. "We just..."
"We'll keep our paws to ourselves," Lyal said, seeming to anticipate the issue. "It's not about that. I think we... we'll just feel safer. Just to stay together."
"Maybe I shouldn't," Lyris admitted, "but I feel safe with you. At least a little bit. More than I have in a long time."
Feeling the blush rise in his cheeks in spite of himself, Barton hedged. "I'm nae sure... I mean, there's li'l enough room on this couch..."
"We can make a nest." Lyris smiled shyly. "We've had practice, and with a lot less to work with."
"Maybe we're asking a lot," Lyal said softly, "but please, Barton, could we stay?"
He called me by name, the badger thought. Not Sir, like a superior or a stranger.
Even as he considered this, he was surprised by the doe leaning forward and kissing him, not on the lips but tenderly, sweetly, on the cheek. She pulled back slowly, looking him in the eyes. "That was for thank you. Not repayment."
Barton breathed evenly, smiling. "And it made me happy, Lyris. Just so ye know."
Lyal leaned forward and kissed the old badger's other cheek. "How about that one?" he asked, daring a smile on his muzzle.
"Definitely." He waved his arms playfully, grinning. "Well dinna just sit there! Ye've got a nest t' build! Makes us comfortable!"
Laughing - and oh, what a lovely sound it was, ringing in Barton's ears! - the twins gathered up the sofa cushions, the blanket and a pillow from the other room, and quick as thinking, they had constructed an astonishingly comfortable space. The old badger lay down, feeling his back and shoulders supported almost better than in his bed back home, and the twins lay to either side of him. He put his arms around them as they curled up against him, all covered with the crazy quilt that had been on the sofa - the one Wallace had found on that trip they'd taken in New England that one fall, with the B&Bs, the antique stores, the millions and millions of crisp, beautiful, every-colored leaves...
The twins reached across him, their forepaws touching as they rested them on his chest. Barton felt wrapped in loving warmth, the bunnies to either side, and Wallace, sweet Wallace, his spirit in the quilt that kept them all together. He had no idea what he was getting himself in for, and he didn't care. It had been so very long since he'd felt so much love, and with the ghost of his mate's kiss joining those the twins had just given him, he closed his eyes, listened to the steady breathing of the beautiful bunnies bracketing him, protecting him as he protected them... and slowly fell into sweet sleep.