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A Confession and Repression

By ToKu

The robust aroma of arabica coffee and fresh bagels filled the spacious kitchen with a warm, cozy feeling. Outside the breeze of an early winter morning fought with the few remaining leaves as they clung hopelessly to their branches. A good day to be indoors for sure and the promise of a light but warm breakfast was a welcoming comfort in a world dreadfully wrought with wrongdoing and injustice. A nearby radio appeared to be playing oldies from the fifties but an attached mp3 player betrayed the feel of authenticity. The kitchen was modern after all. The coffee maker digital, the stove gas but electric read outs displayed temperature. Even the fridge had a touch screen. The pots and pans, ladles and spoons and spatulas hanging from a rack above the center island radiated nostalgia the most, the familiar feel of a grand kitchen master resonating from the blood red walls and the granite counter tops.

John Miller nursed his cup of coffee with both hands while he waited for the promise of caffeine to awaken him. He was so used to the bitter sting of instant coffee or cheap aftertaste of stale gas station sludge rampant with grounds. It was always a pleasant experience to drink the brew of finer beans. All the thoughts of coffee brought him to brooding over his meeting with Rosa Carson the day before, swirling his stomach; sending an urge to his brain to top off his cup with a shot or two from the bottle of single malt whiskey sitting half empty an arms reach away.

'A drink is the last thing I need right now, although it would make things much easier to cope with...'

A chime from the four slot toaster beside the stove caused a sudden thump and shuffle from beyond the kitchen doorway. The detective could hear the faint sounds of foot paws shuffling across polished wood floors with the timely thump of a heavy cane every step and a half. Taking a deep breath, a full gulp of his cooling coffee, John quickly shorted his thoughts in his head the best he could.

"I heard the toaster, you didn't have to wait for me." the voice of an aging German shepherd spoke deeply but softer now with age than ever before. He stood as tall as John, if not for his slight hunch as he leaned his left side heavily onto his ornately carved cane. It made him look much older than his modest sixty-two but then again most hip injuries did that to an aging fur. His plain white shirt was usual attire for being at home but his plaid pajama pants were a new addition John wasn't used to. The glasses were new too.

"I was just caught up in my own head, didn't even hear it." John white lied.

"Always thinking too much, like your mother." The older canine spoke as if his wife was in the same room. Daren Miller was a retired military consultant who had served under various strategic war generals in the Vietnam war was well as the Gulf. John couldn't help but smile sadly. Thoughts of his mother never usually got him worked up but the weight of the world on top of the stress from work seemed to have caught up with him. "You two were always so hard on yourselves. I know having a military father and husband isn't the easiest thing in the world but I tried my best, as did your mother."

Daren hobbled down the counter, propping his cane against the oven handle, quickly pulling the four slices of bagel from the toaster with one paw before expertly crafting them into cream cheese, chive, and onion topped delights.

"It's not the same in this kitchen without her but If there's one thing I've learned from her it's how to cook." John's father spoke fondly.

"You've always been a good cook." John added before another sip.

"But she was the artist." He said pushing a plate in front of his son.

"Thanks dad." John said quickly grabbing up a slice and hungrily biting off half in one chomp. "How's your hip doing?"

"Damn dysplasia." He grunted taking a small bite of his own bagel before pouring himself a fresh cup of black coffee. "Get's worse each year, but I'm finally taking something for the pain. All you can do really."

"There's surgery."

"I like my bones the way they are. I don't need plastic ones."

"Suborn." John shakes his head but smiles.

"You get it all from me after all." His father returned.

"Indeed." John said forcing a smile.

"So what made you call so early?" Daren asked narrowing his eyes as he gingerly took a seat on a bar stool opposite his son. John quickly thought to deflect the question, admit he was just missing his father. While not false, it wasn't the only reason why he was there. The real reasons however, seemed momentous and rather arbitrary, as if the whole world depended on him figuring out this simple but massive problems. He needed someone who could provide the kind of insight only a father could give. But there were so many things he was still afraid to say, even in his early thirties.

"I've just been working a lot and I needed a neutral party who would also have the proper insight." John said, choosing to ease into the situation.

"Work related problems?" The older canine asked settling in to a stern but fatherly attentiveness on top of the years of military discipline that only allowed for a wider spectrum of understanding. Despite a lot of horror stories about the military tearing families apart, it was actually the glue that brought the family closer when John was a kid. Although his memories of his past were like black and white snap shots taken in a haze of adolescent confusion and worldly responsibility. The structure in his life as a boy probably played part in shaping the detective into the emotionally distant and sexually frustrated male he was today. Despite this, he still refused to put the blame on anyone but himself.

'Nobody has control over my life but myself...'

"You could say that." John sighed trying not to sound too distressed. He really wasn't. The warm atmosphere of the kitchen, inviting and tidy, soothed him even though it was twice as technologically advanced as when he was still in high school. However, he would be perfectly able to admit that the past week has been a hail storm of physical and mental stress on top of emotional taxation. "There are just so many things. I don't even know where to start or if I even can."

"Should I be concerned?" Daren asked glancing over his spectacles. It was a typical Daren Miller thing to say. Scrap a knee, 'should I be concerned?' fail a test, 'Should I be concerned?' finds a wine cooler bottle in the back of the car, 'Should I be concerned?'

"Honestly, I don't even know." John shrugged but tried to talk in a way that didn't convey too much worry. John had always been able to take care of himself, ever since he was a young adult, but a furson can only take so much or so little before they begin to crave attention or desire solitude. 'I've had too much solitude lately.' "I just missed you and needed some friendly advice I guess."

"Well, out with it." Daren grunted, using his cup to extract the truth from his son. It worked.

"I'm gay."

The older shepherd only raised his cup of coffee to his graying muzzle and sipped, his eyes doing all the talking, but being a military veteran, the talking could have meant anything. Even through the reflective glass of his sleek new glasses the depth of his eyes were unfathomable. They could hold the worlds best kept secrets and no one would be able to plunder the answers from deep within. John knew that stare all too well, but the true meanings were always lost on him. Sometimes it meant anger, sometimes it was simple intrigue, a quest for truth, honesty, humility.

"That wasn't so hard now was it?" He spoke setting his cup down on the counter top before bringing his second piece of bagel to his teeth.

'He already knew? How? Should I have known?'

"How?" John asked feeling a hefty weight magically lifted from his shoulders. Not all the weight, but enough to actually breathe out and not feel crummy. His paws were shaking, not noticeably but enough for a need to grab hold of something. His coffee cup: holding it, gripping it, caressing it. He didn't know why it felt so good or why this had been so hard but now there were so many question. He was over thirty and just now coming out to his father who somehow already knew. How many years had he wasted in secrecy?

"I'm your parent. Give me a little more credit." Daren said chewing his bagel. John's stomach growled and he did the same. "To be honest it was your mother. She's the one who always knew. I wasn't in denial but I figured if you were you would tell us and that would be that. But you never did. And We didn't want to force you. Besides, you had so much going on in your life anyways. School, the academy, all your part time jobs, volunteer work. We figured you didn't have time for sexuality."

"Everyone has time for sexuality. Or should anyways." John spoke unsure of where those words came from.

"True." His father nodded. "So are you with anyone? You never had girlfriends back in school and your private life has always been quite private. I feel rather bad for not being there to explain things to you."

"I got the gist of things." John replied feeling rather surreal and far away. "And no, I'm not with anyone."

"Are you at least finding time for sex?" He asked and john almost choked on his bagel. "Oh don't be modest, like you said, everyone has time for sexuality."

"It's been a long time." John said each word slowly, almost drooling from his teeth, coating his throat with the feeling of guilt from a simple lie.

"Well as long as your safe."

"I got tested yesterday." John admitted rather offended that his father would think he would just sleep around the immediately felt worse remembering the hawk from a few nights ago. How he had led himself into believing that a promiscuous hook up was a good idea and ended up being barebacked by a sexy stranger.

"Not necessary for someone who's abstinent." The older shepherd chuckled.

"You know, I never thought coming out to you would be this..." John thought for a moment. "Casual."

"What?" Daren asked with a look that poured the meaning of incredulous. "You thought I was going to get angry? Kick you out of the house? Disown you? I would have thought you knew me better than that. I have only ever loved you, and your mother was proud of you. We both were and I still am."

"I know, dad." John sighed, looking down into his coffee. Coming out to his father was never his intention or original reason for his visit but it just seemed like something he had to do. He was tired of living a lie, or a half lie for that matter. He had to admit it to himself and not let it affect his life any longer and those close to him had to know. "There is someone. Who I like, who I have been friends with for a very long time. It's been getting in the way of my work."

"You work with them?" His father asked and he felt like a teenager again, confessing his love for someone who was a safe third party.

"Not closely, but I see them quite often." John spoke thinking of his friend Jason. "This must be weird, hearing this from me. It feels unusual for me to even be saying these things but It's been welling up in the back of my mind like a wonderful and dreadful tumor."

"You should never compare the feeling of love with malignancy." His father said simply and it was enough to bring a small smile to his lips.

"You're right, I guess." John said looking his father in the eyes for a moment. His emotions and sexual orientation weren't the only things plaguing him. "Honestly, these things have only been part of the whirlwind of stress in my life the past few weeks.

"Should I brew another pot of coffee?" Deren asked with a raised brow before draining the last of his cup.

"Perhaps." John sighed. He didn't even know where to start. How do you go about telling you father about a pedophile, junkie cop who partnered up with an ex football player to fuck young boys while extorting blackmail money on top of the cub-sex? How do you go about telling your father about a wolf/shepherd cub who you saved only to find yourself masturbating to a video of him being brutally raped only to suddenly develop fatherly feelings for the boy? How do you explain suicides of guilt, the shame of hiding father son incest from the authorities while hiding behind the guise of probono confidentiality. 'You don't...'

"Technically some of the things I need to talk about are classified since the cases are still open." John said.

"Then they should stay that way." His father spoke sternly.

"I agree," John replied with wholehearted honesty.

"Then why are you trying to tell me all about your work related problems?" Daren asked coming off more cold-hearted than John knew he meant. He was right, though. Detective Miller never compromised a client's information, or a victim's confidentiality. He thought he could trust his father and he had no one else to talk to and being eaten alive by your work was an understatement. "Unless it's actually causing you physical distress..."

"I haven't eaten in days..."

His father glanced down at the bagel before his son, half eaten.

"Not much anyways," John sighed. "Mostly coffee and cigarettes."

"Breakfast of champions."

"It's not a laughing matter." John grumbled knowing how his father could be rather impassive about serious issues.

"I never said it was."

"There's a kid involved..."

A silence enveloped the room, even the hum from the furnace in the basement seemed to kick off as the words escaped the younger shepherds muzzle, filling the room with an uneasy stillness. He felt a strange nagging of worry as if his father could read his inner thoughts. As if masturbating to a cub getting fucked was written across his forehead. He knew his intentions were pure, that he was truly worried for the well being of the boy who was now with a family that didn't seem to even care enough to report on how he was doing. He idly returned his father's watchful gaze albeit rather wavering; almost unsure of his own intentions.

"Not your own obviously." His father said coyly and John was surprised to find himself rather hurt by it.

"I found him; rescued him." John said flatly taking a healthy swing if his coffee and wished he had decided on spiking it. He knew he shouldn't be talking about it, his father was right, but the case was over, or would be soon enough. He still had that bag of video tapes given to him by the enigmatic Rosa Carson, sister to known drug addict and pedophile Gregory Carson; deputy chef of police. "I pulled him out of a house naked and dirty, covered in things a thirteen year old boy shouldn't be covered in and I felt the strangest of things while being with him. I wanted him to know that things would be okay even though I wasn't sure if they would be. He seemed dead to the world and I refused to leave him with that outlook still locked in his head. I nearly spent twenty four hours with him and in that time I grew to care for him in ways I never thought possible."

"It's called being a father." Daren spoke with his paws clasped together on the counter top, his glasses precariously perched on the edge of his graying snout. "When I was first drafted into the military I had this firm idea that I would never have children. It was too much of a hassle. The friends I had who were new parents seemed happy but it seemed to throw their lives into chaos. I was entering my own chaos and I never wanted to share that hell with anyone. Then I met your mother, and everything changed. I changed, for the better I might add, and it seems you are now too. You've lead this productive lifestyle, John, finished school with bright colors, graduated the academy top of our class, you haven't given in to wicked ways, which is easy to do now-a-days. You've stayed true with yourself, especially now that you've, 'come out' to me."

John couldn't help but blush and only hoped his father couldn't see. It had been a long time since he had heard anyone talk about him in that way. Not since his mother was still alive. He only wished he could have been himself around her. However, the wind howling outside seemed to mirror his own disappointment in himself. The feathery face of Jason Daletsky seemed to float in the back of his mind like a phantom come to steal his soul, regardless of the fact that John knew souls were a silly thing to believe in. Then there was Zachary, laying naked in the CPS showers, paw practically up his tail-hole. Bile rose in his throat but he forced it down.

"I don't know what I should do." John finally spoke. "The parents of the cub wont return my calls, I have this sinking suspicion that somethings amiss and I'm not usually wrong about my hunches. I just want to make sure the boy is okay, I've made that very clear in my messages. I also need the boy to testify in a related case, almost everything is resting on him."

"That's a lot of pressure." His father said as he stood, coffee cup in paw as he carried it to the sink. "Perhaps they just need some time. Obviously he was away from them for quite some time. It takes a while to heal those kinds of wounds."

"That's why I've stopped calling."

"Give it time. You'll see." Daren said turning back to grab his cane and with a sudden brightened expression, regarded his son. "While I have you here, I have a few things I need you to help me with."

John still felt torn between his feelings and his duty but at least he was able to clear most of his conscience. He felt like he'd never be able to talk to anybody about masturbating to that video except for Zachary himself and the level of inappropriateness was staggering. The looming thunderhead that was his feelings for Jason would also have to wait. He was still coming to terms with himself, how could he expect anyone to endure that burden as well.

"Come here." John gazed up from his coffee to his his father standing beside him, arms out stretched, awaiting his son's embrace. It was all John could do not to cry with a sudden influx of emotions, not all warm and sentimental. He hadn't let tears get the best of him since he was in middle school but just then, they almost won over him. 'Not yet.' He stood and slowly let his father's arms envelop him.

He had almost forgotten what it was like to interact with another furson this way. Another male, even though it was his dad. Wrapping his own arms around the older shepherd's middle he squeezed his father into him, reveling at the sensation of the other male's broad form against his; the body heat resonating between them setting explosions off in his somatosensory cortex. The sent of Old Spice infiltrated his nostrils and stars seemed to dance in darkness before his tightly shut eyes, holding the tears at bay with sheer will. It was comforting in the very least and he now understood why a son would be so willing to let his father molest him. It was the most comforting person a boy usually knew.

Trying to get stray thoughts of the late Reagan Grey and his son Dustin out of his deviant mind, he willingly but rather regrettably let the hug dissolve with a simple. "I love you, dad."

"I love you too, son." Daren replied with a smile, placing his paws on the detective's shoulders, a small action that refueled him with a courage and hope that only a father can deliver. "How come with me to the garage, I have a few things I need you to lift."

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"I'm sorry. I'll be over tonight, just like usual. I promise. I didn't mean to miss last time. I'm sorry. My shift ran late. I'll be there tonight. Yes. Yes. I'm a good little boy. Please. Okay. Thank you. I love you. It's okay. I'm sorry. Yes, I'm a good little boy."

The call ended and the feeling of fear faded but the erection soaking the inside of his underwear was beginning to leak through and form a dark spot in the crotch of his navy blue EMT uniform. Nathan Dougrey stared down at his lap and sobbed silently, his paws clenched around his cell phone as tears matted his face fur. A million things whizzed through his head so fast that it was impossible to differentiate between them. Emotions swirled like a hurricane in his chest but the fear he felt pulsed through his knotted wolf cock threatening to render him incapacitated. His fears and failures were always the cause of half of his eretions.

A quick spout of radio voices and EMT codes brought him back to the 'hear and now'. He glanced around, having nearly forgotten his whereabouts. He was parked near the Eighth Street Park wear food vendors parked in their vehicles, peddling their savory wares. He had planned to stop and grab a bite to eat when he had received the phone call from his brother. He never got calls from him and wasn't expecting the menacing voice on the other end when he had answered with a pleasant 'hello'.

Normally there would be teens and cubs running about, playing near the playground, loving parents causally watching from a shady bench, but the cold winter air had driven most furs indoors. The vendors were still here as usual but they had their windows shut against the bite of the early winter, likely contemplating the fruitlessness of today's business. Glancing out the passenger window of his transport, Nathan spotted the closest fur, a vendor feline smoking outside his truck while he stared at his phone clearly distracted. When he figured the coast was clear he reached behind the passenger seat, grabbing the duffle bag he kept back there. He was always prepared for emergencies and always carried a change of clothes, both street clothes and a second uniform.

Pulling out a clean pair of work pants and a fresh pair of briefs, Nathan quickly unbuttoned his pants but slowly pulled them down over the bulge of his erection. It was worse than he thought, his pubic fur was matted and stuck together, his underwear was practically dripping and his knot throbbed painfully as he worked the pant legs off around his boots. More codes of emergencies screamed from the CB radio; fender benders, domestic disputes, a knife fight, shots fired. Once he was freed from his soiled clothes he grabbed the cloth he kept in the side door pocket for when he normally made messes like this. The current situation was different though, this wasn't normal pleasure, this was old, this was family, this was his brother, this was his fault. He felt more tears welling up in his eyes; burning as old memories and past times welled up inside.

Wiping his belly, pubic area, balls and around the base of his knot he tried to clean up quick but his cock wasn't going down. It was times like this that made being a canine especially worrisome. Knotted boners were never easy to get rid of. 'I need to cum.' He thought to himself as he glanced about. The park appeared deserted, his mirrors nearly gave him a three sixty degree view and if anyone came up from behind he would have about five seconds to cover himself. So with a face full of tears and balls full of fearful cum he gripped the base of his shaft, just above the knot and shivered as he practically came then.

His belly growled, he was still hungry and sex or masturbation always exacerbated that. He kept a steady eye on the feline vendor across the street and was relieved to see him toss his cigarette butt down to the ground, stomping it out before returning to the warmth of his truck. He tried to think of Jason. He was always happy when he was with Jason. He felt like he loved him but also understood that not everyone shared the same feelings. Not that Jason didn't like him, but the wolf knew not to jump to conclusions or be too clingy. Still, it was always a comfort to think of the hawk, the way he kissed him, the way he touched him, the way he fucked him. 'Not like Tony.' Nathan thought of his brother.

A second stroke of his angry red cock brought more memories of Jason, the first time they kissed, the first time they jerked off together. It was in this very ambulance, only two months ago. Simple conversations of girls and guys escalated quickly. Jason had already been aware of the wolf's orientation; he was probably the most accepting furson Nathan had ever met n his entire life and the added paw-jobs were a welcome addition. The strong hawk was the only thing that made him forget about his brother, forget the things that happened when they were younger, repressing the reason's behind their continued fucking.

He couldn't help the moan that escaped his teeth as orgasm took him by surprise.

It happened so quickly, but thankfully his cum only seemed to bubble up and dribble down his cock; covering his paw. The cloth made quick work his paw, wiped clean before he even stopped shivering from his ethereal climax. He sat there a second watching while his cock finally began to soften, shrinking down until first his knot was swallowed by his sheath until only the tip of his tapper remained; glossy and pink. He almost felt tired and had to fight to keep his eyes open. It would be bad if he were discovered sitting in an ambulance with his pants off. He'd be fired and out of work. His life dream down the toilet. 'I need to be more careful.'

A second spasm of code made his ears flick. 'Indecent exposure? Unconscious? Police car?' Nathan thought before his arm moved on his own. His stomach growled again but the address was right around the corner. His paw was on his briefs but suddenly abandoned for the radio mic.

"This is Nathaniel Dougrey responding, I'm at Eight and Pine, I can be there in less than two minutes." He spoke before quickly slipping his fresh briefs over his boots with one paw while he started the engine with his other. His pants proved much more difficult but he had his fly zipped and his button clasped as he put the transport into gear.

Flipping around in the parking lot, passing the vendors with a third painful rumble in his belly, he shot off down Eight street towards Preston Avenue. The road split, taking the left path the houses around him steadily became nicer as he drove further up the hill. The desert lots turned into grassy yards and the cactus turned into palm trees, box elders, black oak and western sycamore. The houses grew fancier, more modern and the cars parked in various drive ways became ritzier. The specific house in question came into view and was obvious by the black and white patrol car sitting at an angle half parked in the grass.

Pulling up along side it, he threw his seat belt off from around his middle, hoping out of the cab, grabbing his crash kit before finally pressing his black rimmed glassed up the bridge of his nose. It still amazed him how quickly a guy his size could move in an emergency. He had started working out with Jason on their free nights but he had yet to see any progress.

With his mind back on the task at hand, he rushed to the cop car. He could hear a second ambulance in the distance, his confidence securing itself in his own mind. He knew his job well, but it was always difficult working alone. It was just about time for Jason's shift but he was probably still clocking in at the hospital.

As he approved the patrol car the first thing he noticed was the front seat door was ajar, the naked three hundred pound bear in the back seat was the second.'Goodness...' He knew him. It was Gregory Carson, Deputy Chief of Police. He had heard Jason talk about him a few times and had heard some peculiar stories about him that were all steeped in hearsay. He didn't know what was true or fabrication but regardless of who the bear was, his life was still in danger.

Opening the rear passenger side door, he leaned in and was almost overwhelmed by the stench of sex and booze. His acute nose could smell the cum of various furs as well as the pungent reek of vomit. 'What the hell happened?' He was laying half on his back and half on his side, his arms up above his head as if he were dragged into the back. His legs were spread and Nathan couldn't help but stare wide eyed at the pair of massive balls hanging before him. His sheath, while much smaller was obviously crusted with semen and his fur stunk of spilled stale beer.

Holding his breath he ducked in to where he could reach his neck. Steadying himself on the head rest of the passenger seat he leaned over the bear's massive form, placing two paw pads in the crook of his neck. 'No pulse? Wait! Its faint. Ever so faint. I need to get him out of here.'

Baking out he rushed around to the other side, pulling his flashlight from his belt holster. Kneeling down he pulled back the bear's heavily bagged eye lids. The whites of his eyes ere milky and almost yellow, The dark brown of his iris almost seemed gray but his pupils dilated when the light shone into them. 'Amphetamines, but by his slowed heart rate I'd say something else, a sedatives, barbiturates or opioids.'

"Gregory Carson, This is Nathaniel Dougrey." The wolf spoke firmly in his work related neutral tone. "I am an EMT, you are in the back of your squad car, can you hear me?"

With no response he backed out only to re-position himself. Lifting the bear's arms up and back alongside his body, Nathan hooked his own arms under the bear's armpits and using his foot at leverage, pulled the bear, inch by inch until he slid from the hard seats of the patrol car's back seats to the soft grass. Nathan noticed a few on lookers standing from the porches and doorways of their homes and immediately pulled a e-blanket from a pouch in his crash cart to cover the Gregory's indecency.

Felling his chest and listening for breath he only found the slightest of movements. _'So faint.'_Quickly preparing a saline shot he wasted no time and stuck the bear in his thick thighs. The sirens were close, right around the corner, and before he could begin CPR there were two other medics rushing towards them both caring a stretcher, one of them, a tall hawk with rust colored feathers and broad shoulders.

"Jason?"

"I heard the radio." He responded looking down at Gregory with a cold wavering stare.

"He's not breathing, his heart rate's 15 BTM. Dehydration, Pnumonia, and a mixture of Amphetamines and a downers. His lips are blue. He'd going fast."

"We have to get him to ER." The third EMT spoke, a Dolphin named Yancy who recently transferred from the county hospital.

"Grab him up." Jason commanded, crouching down by his foot-paws. "One, Two..."

On three they hefted the large ursine form off the ground long enough for the dolphin to slip the stretcher underneath his body. More onlookers and rubberneckers were watching as they transferred the bear from ground to transport in a quick and steady series of motions.

"I'm driving for Yancy, follow behind." Jason said to Nathan once the dolphin had the bear strapped in. It was selfish and uncalled for but he felt a strange pang of jealously. 'It's just work.'

"Okay." He nodded, staring deep into the hawks eyes and only hopped he noticed the unspoken words.'I'll follow you anywhere.'

"See you in a bit." With a wing on his shoulder Jason patted the wolf once and it was all he needed. All he needed to stay sane; his job and his hawk.

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John Miller burst through the doors of the emergency room, flashing his badge as a fox in nurses garb began to protest with a flurry of fiery red fur and heavy Hispanic accent. She was reluctant to let him through but a sudden buzzer and a flashing light on the nearby wall implicated that she had more pressing matters to deal with. He was greeted by the overwhelming stench of sterility instead and the deafening hum of computers, monitors, EKG machines, transfusion pumps and the occasional page for a doctor on one of the many floors. As he passed the semi-circle desk he was greeted by a very stern looking Clydesdale who considered him for a moment before pointing towards a dimly lit hall where several nurses were exiting a room at the end. The detective could feel the horses eyes on him as he scurried past, trying to push all thoughts of his anxiety and stress out of his head. Aware of his ruffled garb and frazzled manor, he knew he looked a mess; his father had even said so. He was on his way home; back to the comfort of his own lonely apartment, when he had received the call from Jason before making a very abrupt u-turn and several illegal maneuvers.

The hallway before him appeared to stretch on forever, like in the movies were it seemed to elongate and stretch impossibly, taking every once of your strength just to move your legs, running through invisible quicksand until suddenly you were at the end and didn't remember getting there. He found himself in a small room, poorly lit with the curtains drawn shut. What furnishings there were sat and hung in shadows that only furthered the ominous feeling John felt as he approached the bed. The mass of brown fur seem quite unlike the bear he had seen only a few nights before. He was still as large as the Gregory he knew all to well but his fur was matted, and thin; his face seemed sunken even with the oxygen mask over his scruffy muzzle. His chest rose and fell with a deathly lag between each exhale and inhale; movement easily overlooked if it weren't for the beep of the EGK at his bedside.

"He's dying." A deep voice spoke behind him. The Clydesdale stood in the doorway, hoof-paws in the pockets of his lab coat. A name badge read Brian Ellsworth, MD. "His liver is failing, he came in with a severe bacterial infection in the valves of his heart, along with major abscesses near his main arteries. Were also trying to treat him for the beginnings of Pneumonia, but his body is literally shutting down."

"Can he talk?" John asked. Probably a stupid question but Health and Biology weren't his strong points in school.

"If he were conscious, maybe." The horse spoke with a wave of his hand. "We gave him a mild sedative. If he wakes up you can question him but it might be a while. I understand the severity of the situation. I've treated a lot of his... victims."

"Victims?" John asked incredulously.

"Not many fur's know, save for myself and a few of the LPNs under me. We usually specialize in child abuse in this wing, It's rather ironic he ended up here."

"You know about what he's done?"

"It doesn't take a medical Doctor to put two and two together, detective." Dr. Ellsworth spoke with an air of sarcasm. John hardly felt even dry humor was appropriate at the moment but he humored the horse for the sake of information.

"There have been instances where hard evidence has slipped through the cracks." John asked, hoping for a answer to something he already suspected and knew in his heart.

"The long arm of the law has its way of sticking its slimy fingers into messes it ought to be preventing but instead it only wipes away any trace of wrong doing as opposed to fighting for an end, to stop the wrongs of the world from ever happening."

"Someone's been removing evidence. It hasn't just been getting lost." Slightly annoyed by the riddles.

"Bingo."

"I've known this. The real question is who." John said half to himself and half to the horse, not expecting an actual question. When the horse pulled his last hand from his coat pocket he held it out towards the German shepherd. Between his index and middle finger was a card. John took it, looking it over, front and back before glancing back up, but was astonished to find an empty door frame. Turning back at Gregory, who's breaths were just as few and far between, he thought of all the countless cub's he had victimized, molested, raped, fucked and was relieved nothing happened in his pants. 'So it's just Zachary...' He thought, still troubled by the thought but almost accepting of it. It didn't change how he felt about Gregory. Staring down, he felt something deep inside of his body that bordered somewhere between sweetness and rancid bile, metaphorically bubbling up in his chest.

The card in his paw only had a name, A number, and a title. 'Thurston Dougrey; corporate adviser.'_Corporate adviser to whom? The name sounded familiar and he thought a moment as he stared down at the bear with mild disgust. _'Where have I heard that name before? Dougrey? Zachary Dougrey? Zachary's father! The one who wont return my calls.'

He felt sick.

He was about to leave the room when a series of loud beeps pulled him from his own head. John's eyes immediately fell onto the EKG machine that had suddenly flat-lined.'No...'

Suddenly there were several nurses around him having appeared within seconds of the machines wail. A crash cart sped by him, followed by another nurse who pulled the bear's blankets and gown down to his waist, exposing his ruffled chest fur and rotund belly. A second nurse, a brown feathered cardinal began administering a shot of steroids while the fox from earlier removed his oxygen mask, replacing it with a resuscitation device and began pumping air into his lungs. The tall and slender swan with the crash cart readied the paddles while a squat middle aged Welsh corgi gelled the bear's chest with electrode gel.

"One, two, three, clear!"

The bed shook under the weight of the brown ursine.

"One, two, three, clear."

John Miller clenched his fists. Thinking of Zachary, thinking of Jason, Thinking of Regan Grey and his son Dustin; everything the bear had done and how much he deserved to die. He found himself wanting Gregory to pull through if only for the chance to question him, to punish him. If he died now... It would all be for nothing.

"One, two, three, clear!"

The EKG machine screamed. The shepherd felt deaf and dizzy as he stood back against the door frame not quite believing what he saw. The card he held was bent, the sharp edges threatening to cut into the pads of his paws while he waited for a fourth round of counts before the shout 'Clear!'

"Time of death: Three fifteen." The fox spoke as the swan pulled the cart back from the bed. John's paws became limp. The blankets where replaced over the police chief's chest, but drawn up further until his entire face was covered. John waited, expecting something else to happen but as the nurses tricked out of the room, one by one, the reality of the matter finally hit home. It had happened so fast. He had even brought a tape recorder in hopes of getting a doped up confession but that wouldn't happen now. Gregory Carson was dead.

End of part 11

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