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Family Matters

Wednesday –

Passing by the glass doors facing the porch Sean glanced out across the back yard, toward the vast dark waters of the Saint Lawrence beyond. A lone form stood on the gazebo on the shore looking across the same waters. After a few moments Sean went to the mud-room and put on his winter gear. The sun was out, finally, and no snow fell but it was still bitterly cold.

Properly garbed, Sean left the house and wandered down to the gazebo. The dock extended from the opposite side of the structure out over the ice to a boat house at the end but no boat was in attendance. In the distance the ship channel was a flat black scar slicing through the blinding white of snow and ice.

“Hey, dog." He offered, walking to the railing a few feet away from Lazarus. The dark hued collie was dressed more lightly for the weather, his head uncovered. Brown eyes shifted to Sean briefly and then back out across the waters where a transport ship was slowly cruising past. “Talked to Oda lately?"

“You know I haven't." Lazarus growled quietly, taking a sip on the beer he had in one hand.

“Why not?"

Once more those hard brown eyes slid across to Sean, “You know why, Sean."

“Still pissed?" Sean felt a flash of real anger toward the dog at that moment, knowing what Oda had been going through in the past months since his reassignment. Arizona on the Mexican border was a stone cold bitch at the best of times, but having a cadre of supervisors bent on making his life hell only made it that much worse. “At him, or at me?"

“At both of you!" The collie snapped without looking toward him.

“You have absolutely no right to be angry with him. What's done was done, Lazy. It's in the past, let it well enough go and call the man!"

“You almost cost him his job, idiot." Lazarus growled, taking another swallow of his half- finished beer. “And he fucking let you do it!"

“All right then, be pissed at me. Don't turn your back on him when he needs you, damnit."

Lazarus finally turned to face Sean fully, his ears back and his eyes hard. Teeth gleamed from the ash spotted merle hues of his muzzle. “You took him, you asshole. He was mine, and you took him."

Sean blinked, taken aback by the hard fury and unexpected words from the very straight collie. “Yours? Yours? Lazarus when – ever – did you think that he was exclusive to you? Or to me? To anyone? He's no more yours that he is mine, don't be a possessive, jealous dick."

“Says you, who used him to get over a little 'problem' and then walked away like no big deal. Left him swinging in the breeze while you went on with your merry little life, problem solved. I'll bet you didn't even put a word in at his disciplinary hearing, or offer the least damn statement."

“I wasn't asked! I would've flown back out there and stood on the carpet with him if I'd been asked!"

“Well, sure as fuck you would've, standing here talking about it months later!"

“If it's got you so bent, why haven't you talked to him about it? Put in your two damn cents, dog? You fucking turned your back on him, cold! He did nothing – nothing! – to deserve your repudiation!"

“It's your damn fault it happened, skin." Lazarus finished the beer and angrily flung the bottle toward the river. It clinked and sang where it furrowed a path across the snow covered ice. “He put his tail up and you just fucked away, blasé' blasé', no big fucking deal. My god damned wolf, you asshole!"

“What the fuck is he to you then?" Sean snapped, ire becoming fury at the immature intransigence of the collie. “Nothing but a damn bitch? You come calling and he's supposed to be there, tail in the air, for you? Just you?" He threw his hands up in exasperation. “He can't have a life of his own, bed who he wants? He's just supposed to wait until your balls get that special itch?"

“Watch it, man." Lazarus warned with a snarl.

“Watch what, Lazarus? That's all he is to you? Your own personal bi–" Sean did not consciously see the fist coming, but several months of intensive martial arts training made him react before he was aware that he was moving. Lazarus' blinding round-house almost connected before Sean lurched back and jerked up an arm to block it away. Though he used the proper turn of his arm, lying the bone into the dog's punch, a zing of discomfort lanced upward from his elbow.

Lazarus stepped in and followed his failed opening strike with a jab and Sean flinched away, barely managing to sweep his other arm down and turn the punch. The dog moved like lightening, a fusillade of blows coming from seemingly all directions, and Sean could not take a moment to register his confusion at the sudden furious assault. He could only dodge and block, taking a glancing blow to the top of his head and a couple to the ribs before shock was pushed aside by anger.

His blocks became stronger, aimed not only at merely stopping the dog's blows but making them hurt as much as his training allowed. He did have to consciously temper his returns, however, because the martial arts style he was being trained in had a singular purpose; cause as much pain to the target as quickly as possible to remove their fight, or remove them from the fight and move on to the next target. Blocks naturally lead into joint locks and bars, but Lazarus was well trained. He slipped easily from every attempt Sean made to immobilize his swinging arms.

They said nothing further, the human's jaw set in an angry clench and the dog's furious snarling lending counterpoint to the muffled thump of strikes and blocks, punctuated by the hiss and whistle of winter clothing slipping through the motions. At least the dog was using punches, rather than the formidable claws on his fingers, but he also had jaws which he was attempting to use. Sean's training accounted for that – the natural weaponry of non-humans – because he had specifically sought it out in his training just in case he ever had to face anyone like that cougar again. Or the maniac mail-room clerk who assaulted Taws. He was able to jerk out of range each time those deadly white teeth lunged past his blocks to close with loud, startling cracks inches from Sean's face.

Around the gazebo their violent dance circled, stirring up a fog of disturbed snow, as Sean managed to hold his own against the sheer fury of his fiancé's brother. Lazarus' anger made him less refined in his tactics, giving Sean just enough wiggle room to keep himself from getting hammered down. He feared what the collie might do in his current state if he did gain the upper paw.

Suddenly Lazarus changed his tactics, crouching slightly and launching himself at Sean's midsection in a clearly telegraphed tackle. The response to that was one learned early, and practiced often, so Sean hardly had to think before dancing to one side, dodging the reaching hands, and seized the back of the collie's jacket. Allowing Lazarus' lunge to provide the momentum he swung the dog through his own leap in an attempt to send him sprawling across the gazebo floor.

But the dog was not so easily put down, rolling into a tumble and leaping to his feet before his slide even slowed appreciably. Immediately he rebounded, this time catching Sean before he could regain his balance. The shoulder tackle sent him hurling backwards with the dog latched about his midsection. He felt a brief moment of weightlessness before the earth met his back in a bone-jarring, breath stealing slam when Lazarus launched them both off of the gazebo, completely bypassing the four steps that led up to it.

Sean tried to continue that in a roll despite being stunned by the impact but Lazarus was on top of him, his knees grinding down upon Sean's shoulders as he straddled his chest. All Sean could do was put up his arms to ward his head from the rapid, furious blows of the dog's fists. Twitching, writhing, and jerking his hips up in a vain attempt to worm his way out from under Lazarus weight Sean managed to avoid the majority of the punches entirely, the rest beating ineffectively against his arms.

Sean's pitching and bucking pushed Lazarus' weight forward, reducing the force he could put into his blows if he wanted to get them past Sean's guard. When the dog leaned back slightly to maintain his balance Sean dropped his hips and threw up his legs, arching his back and pressing his shoulders down. He intended to kick the dog in the back of the head with his heavy winter boots but his attempted strike missed, only kneeing him in the back. Sensing that attack Lazarus leaned back further to lessen the force Sean could use.

So Sean didn't bother to kick; he managed to hook one foot past Lazarus' shoulder and beneath his chin. Hauling back, he got his other leg up to capture the dog's head in a scissor lock and pulled, dropping his arms to capture the dog's thighs. With his legs suddenly pinned Lazarus was arched back, his hands scrabbling at Sean's ankles in a failed attempt to unlock his feet.

Finding the dog's thighs spread eagle over him Sean jerked up his head. The dog's angry, strained growling was punctuated by a brief grunting yelp of pain when Sean's forehead was plowed into his unprotected crotch.

Rather than repeating the blow Sean merely held him for a few more seconds, continuing to pull down with his legs, bending the dog back at what had to be an uncomfortable angle. Reaching up and gasping the front of Lazarus' jacket Sean threw his weight to one side, tossing the dog away and rolling up onto his knees. Freed, Lazarus rolled a couple of times before coming to rest on his back, panting heavily.

“You done?" Sean snapped, panting, surprised at just how good he felt. He was winded, but he was not exhausted, despite several minutes going toe to toe with the dog, who had gone through he knew not how many years of combat training in his law-enforcement career. Sean felt positively giddy.

Lazarus, on the other hand, seemed ill disposed to let Sean win their argument with either words or action. Drawing his knees up he lunged forward to snap at Sean.

Only to get the stiffened fingers of one hand driven into the hollow of his throat just below his larynx, the arm behind them not moving when all of his weight was arrested by that small point of pressure. As Lazarus' eyes bugged at the sudden, painful shock Sean snatched his hand back, and then drove it forward again, plunging his hand into Lazarus' gaping muzzle. The man's middle and ring finger drove deep into Lazarus' throat and Sean grabbed his lower jaw firmly, ignoring the painful poke of his lower fangs.

Gagging, Lazarus grabbed at Sean's arm with both hands, trying to dislodge the fingers from the back of his throat. When Sean did not show any indication of releasing his hold Lazarus dropped one hand and hammered a short jab into his gut but it had little apparent effect; Sean's heavy winter coat and tightened muscles absorbed its force. A second blow, lower, did achieve more results. The blow to his crotch made Sean grunt in pain, his grip slacking just enough for Lazarus to jerk his hand free.

Man and dog fell away from each other.

“Lazarus! Sean! _What in the hell _?" Taws shrieked from half way across the lawn, pelting through the snow toward them. Her jacket flapped about her shoulders and her paws were bare, churning up the snow in her wake with each long, loping stride. Lazarus, still gagging from the jab to his throat and fingers subsequently rammed down it, said nothing. Chastened by the fury of the wrath of his bitch Sean wilted a little but stood his ground, grinning like a giddy fool.

He had stood toe to toe with Lazarus and not faltered!

“We were – sparring?" He offered, lamely.

“Sparring?" Taws churned to a stop a few feet away and gaped furiously at both of them. “Like hell you were just sparring! Out with it! What's going on?"

Sean drew himself up straighter and let out a loud huff of air, “Okay, yes, well… we had a disagreement, so we were working out the finer details."

Taws glowered at him with backed ears and flashing teeth, “Of all the testosterone laden, idiotic bullshit I've ever heard. Whatever the hell you two are rolling around on the ground over like a couple of schoolyard boys over a bitch in hea –" Abruptly her tirade stopped, jaw unslung in mid bark, and her eyes went wide. “Oda. This was about him, wasn't it?" Her eyes narrowed, her hands fisting on her hips, and flicked her angry gaze back and forth between them. “Fighting over that wolf? Laz - ?" Her eyes narrowed, then her ears sprang up and her eyes widened. “Lazarus! That wolf – you? Oda, and you –"

“No!" The collie croaked abruptly, but his ears were back and his tail dropped to a low angle, chagrinned.

“No." Sean stepped in quickly, seeing where Taws' thoughts were going, “I – my – indiscretion, love. I cost Oda so much, and Lazy's pissed about it. That wolf is as close to a brother as Lazarus has ever had, and… well… I didn't mean to, but he ended up under the bus anyway."

Taws' glowered at him, “Damn right he did, and you – we – owe him to do what we can because of it." Stepping forward she drilled a clawed fingertip against Sean's chest so firmly he staggered back a step. “You two had better figure yourselves out, because this bullshit between you is over, you got it?" She snarled at both of them.

“Okay, okay." Sean waved his hands in a vain attempt to placate her and offered a rakish smile, still burning from exertion and adrenaline. “Lazy?" He glanced over at Lazarus but all the dog could do was wave one hand toward his sister in defeat, still gagging over Sean's final gambit, half bent over with one hand on his knee and the other rubbing his throat. “Yes, dear."

With a final snort of derision Taws turned about. “Boys!" She retraced her steps back toward the house, muttering unintelligible imprecations the entire way. Sean watched her go, offering a wave toward her parents before turning back toward his opponent.

“Lazy, you all right?"

Lazarus finally managed to pull himself upright and favored him with a glower, hears half up. “That last bit… uncalled for." He hacked painfully, steam puffing from his muzzle with every breath. “You… have upped your game."

“Getting beat to shit, and worse, was kinda motivating." Sean stepped over and gave Lazarus a couple of light swats on the back, only to receive a firm thump from one fist to his stomach. “Sorry."

“S'okay." Lazarus huffed and shook himself, working his jaw which Sean had no doubt strained as he tried to force the dog down with one hand. “I'll feel that for a few days. Sorry I snapped." His ears rotated back in consternation. “But, you know, I – yeah, I guess you're kinda right. I had this thing, in my head, about Oda. You blew it all to fuck."

“Hurts, eh?"

“Right to the heart, yeah." Lazarus nodded, turning to follow the churned path Taws left in her charge and retreat. “You know, until I saw those photos I never really… felt it, not like that. Shit." He shook his head with a sigh. “Taws was right. I was pissed jealous." His shoulders rose and fell. “Sorry." After a moment he pushed himself straight and squared his shoulders, shaking off the discomfort of their tussle. “You have feelings for him?"

Sean pondered for a moment, “Yeah, some. It's not love, though. Not like Taws and I." He observed, churning a fresh path as he walked beside the collie. “More than friend, different than brother, but… not romance."

Lazarus chuffed a cloud past his whiskers. “Bromance? Yeah, no." Pausing he turned his head to glance aside at Sean. “He's not just my bitch, though. He's more than that."

“He is, to both of us. And, Lazarus, he needs you. As a friend, right now. As a brother." Sean said earnestly, holding the panting dog's brown eyed gaze. “Call him." They continued a few more paces before Sean continued. “He got shot, you know."

Lazarus staggered and halted, his ears going back and his tail tucking when he turned a shocked look on Sean. “What?"

With a nod Sean continued to trudge through the snow, his breath steaming around his face. Steam rose from his face, as well, and seeped around the wrist of his gloves where the jacket had pulled back. “Month or so ago, yeah. They put him on night patrol, alone. Him, a big damned white target, at night. In an area where illegals are known to cross regularly carrying narcotics. One of them got the drop on him, put three shots into his back from effectively point blank."

“He's okay though, right?"

“Had on his vest, the guy was shooting a thirty eight with target rounds so they didn't do anything but knock him on his face. Could've been worse, though. The fourth round mis-fired while Oda was on the ground. The guy was standing right over him, and that fourth shot fouled the cylinder. Probably burnt the shit out of the shooter's hand, too. He dropped it and ran while Oda was getting his breath. Patrol never sent help, even though he had radio contact the whole time." Sean slowed to a stop and heaved a sigh before looking at the dumbfounded canine at his side. “He's scared, Lazy. That big ass wolf is scared. And alone. His supers are sadistic, homophobic back-country hicks who know everything about him. That he's gay. That he's on disciplinary probation and can't transfer, because of me." Sean felt horrible every time he thought about it, but he didn't know what to do. “He thinks they're setting him up to fail, in a fatal way."

Lazarus frowned and looked at the ground. “Fuck. We need to help him, somehow. I'm going to dig into it when I get back to New York."

“Tell me what to do, Lazy, and I'll do it. Just tell me." Sean affirmed desperately.

Taws and Faolin had withdrawn to the house after she dressed them down, but Drake was still standing on the deck, leaning one hip against the railing while he sipped a beer. Two more, unopened, perched in the snow on the railing nearby. The older dog was chuckling when they mounted the stairs. “Sean, boy, I sure hope you know what you're latching onto with that girl. She had both of you cowed."

“S'cause she was right, Doc." Sean shrugged, picking up the two beers. Using the inside of his jacket he twisted the caps off and handed one to Lazarus. “We needed a good scolding."

“Oh, yep, that y'all did. Get it out of your systems, then?"

“Yeah." Lazarus grunted, swatting Sean between the shoulder blades solidly as he accepted the proffered bottle. Sean staggered at the solid force of the friendly blow, glad that the weight of his jacket softened it.

Laughing, the three men spent the time savoring their beers in casual conversation, watching ships slowly glide past out on the seaway.

The phone went to voicemail twice before it was finally answered much later that night but Sean was used to that, having no clue what rotation the wolf would be on from one day to the next. “Hey, wolf."

“Hey," Oda mumbled softly from the other end, making Sean's eyebrow creep up toward his hairline.

“Oh, sorry, Oda. I didn't mean to wake you."

“Didn't," The wolf rumbled groggily, “I'm just stoned." Sean sat down on the bed abruptly and stared at his phone as if he could glean some answers from the contact image of the wolf grinning up at him from the flatscreen.

“Stoned?"

“Yep! Good drugs, yeah."

“Oda, clue me in here, okay?"

“Don't worry, buckaroo. I'm just in the hospital enjoying the lingering buzz of a good morphine hit."

“What the hell? You get shot again?"

“Nah, jumped this time." Oda sighed on the other end. “Ended up taking a bit of a tumble down an unpleasantly deep wash and smashed my shank, bruised some ribs and dinked this bony thing on top of my shoulders right good."

“Well, fuck. So much for a 'happy thanksgiving', eh?" Sean glanced up as Taws emerged from the bathroom, her fur fluffed comically by the air drier she had just finished using. “You going to be okay?"

“Head and ribs, yeah. Doc's not sure about the shank yet. But hey, hospital food for the holidays. Better'n the slop they toss at us in the barracks."

Sean scowled at the phone and sighed. Lazarus had been right to kick his ass for putting the wolf in the situation he was in. Glancing up at Taws he mouthed the question, “What's a 'shank'?" while Oda mumbled through the phone at him. With a concerned scowl she raised one of her legs and touched the long portion between her large paw and elevated hock. Sean winced at the thought, knowing how important those long bones were for those with legs like Taws and Oda. It was worse than just breaking an ankle for Sean. “Doc say how long you'd be down for recovery?"

“Mmhh, he was pretty pissed about the whole injury and shit. He knows what's been going on. Told me before I even went in for x-rays that he was going to give me twelve weeks recovery and rehab time. And stress leave."

“Stress leave?"

A quaver edged into Oda's voice as he hummed an affirmative, “Sean, I think it was my guys who did this… the humans working here."

“What?" Sean gaped in horror. Taws sat down beside him, her ears pricked up to listen in while she finished patting out the last bit of dampness the air drier couldn't get from the depth of her lush coat. “The other border patrol guys?"

“Yeah. I caught a smell, during the scuffle. Was, I think, my lieutenant and a couple of the checkpoint boys. God damned corn-fed racist hicks." Oda tried to sound furious but the effects of the narcotics made it just sound like a tired complaint. “Blindsided me and pitched me off the edge before I could even get a swing in, mother fuckers."

“Can you verify that?"

A long sigh, “Nah. And no one around here would lift a finger anyway. It's their own little turf, and here I am an outsider." There was a long, weighted pause. “I'm scared, Sean." From the wolf; that tower of white furred male machismo and confidence Sean had leaned on during his two visits out west, such an admission was as alien as John Wayne admitting to being a gay cross-dresser off camera. The morphine he was on brought the admission out blandly, as if it was no more concern than the contents of his dinner tray. It made ice race up Sean's spine.

“Sure as shit! You got your doctor's contact info?"

“Yeah?"

“Send it."

“When I'm not so doped, Sean. I could barely answer the phone as it is."

“Just do it when you can, wolf. I told Lazarus to call, too, and I think he will this time. Don't throw this at him for now, okay? I don't think I could survive it."

“Sure thing. He tried to call once, but I was out of it." A note of happiness intruded upon the morose lassitude of the wolf's drugged mumble, “Maybe he'll try again."

“He will, I'm sure of it. But get some rest, Oda. Get me your doc's info when you can."

“Will do, Sean. You guys have a good Thanksgiving, okay? Don't worry about me, I'm safe here in the hospital. The nurses are very, very nice to a crippled old wolf." Despite his concern Sean could not stifle a small laugh at that. Oda was an incorrigible flirt regardless of the gender upon which it was gifted. They listened to the click and scrape of Oda's claw on the phone for a few seconds before he successfully hit the end call button.

“Ouch." Taws murmured with a frown, her tall ears backed and whiskers drooped.

“Yeah." Sean heaved a huge sigh. “I'm going to get him out of there, hon. As soon as I possibly can, even if I have to go get him myself. He doesn't deserve that shit."

“No arguments from me, Sean. He can use my condo, even, for as long as he needs it."

Oda's response came a couple of hours later while Sean was listening to Drake yammer on about the merits of Australian rules football versus American football or even rugby, with Lazarus' peanut-gallery input. All of them were pretty much greek to Sean anyway, as he had only played the American version as a youth and even then only pickup games among friends. Someone had shown the collie the overseas version at some point and gotten him hooked. Faolin jokingly complained that he was as bad about his 'downunder football' as some folks were about soccer. Sean waggled his phone suggestively with a half-smile to indicate he needed to answer the message before escaping, climbing the stairs to the room he was sharing with his fiancé while she remained downstairs to keep the boys talking, though she tried valiantly to change the subject without success.

The text contained the phone numbers for his Doctor, one Pham Treng, Md/DvM. Without regard for the time difference Sean selected the first number and dialed it. Either the Doctor would be in or he would not, considering that hospital staff kept twenty-four hour schedules there was no telling. The first number went directly to a call service and he left a message requesting an immediate consultation. The next number rang twice before being answered.

“Doctor Treng." The voice was heavily accented southeastern Asian, but Sean had no way of knowing which country it could have originated from. “Who call from New York?"

“Doctor, my name is Sean Garret, and I am calling in concern of a patient you are seeing. A white wolf by the name of Odamiakin."

The voice took on a cautious, reserved tone immediately, “Yes? Of concern what?" Still learning the nuances of English grammar, obviously.

“When can he leave the hospital? Will he be cleared to fly?" Taws stirred against him, her head coming up slightly, eyes gleaming in the phone's diffuse light. She said nothing.

“Why?"

“Doc, I'm – the reason he's there, in Arizona, on the border."

There was a weighted pause, the sounds of intercoms and muted call dings filling the silence. The doctor said a few words to someone away from the phone and, a few moments later, the background susurrus of the hospital disappeared with a soft click. The sound of a door closing. “Reason mister wolf so far from home? What is concern to you, mister Sean from New York?" The doctor's voice was heavy with suspicion.

“He's a friend."

“More than friend, says wolf."

“Okay. Yes, he's more than a friend, if he's told you that much."

“Drugged wolf say many things to fly on wall, mister Sean. Especially when doctor wife psychologist for agency, yes?"

“Can you release him to fly, doctor? Yes or no, I want to help get him out of that place. If he needs continued care we have some excellent orthopedic doctors in New York City."

“My concern for well-being of patient, mister Sean. If better care New York has, to New York he goes, yes?"

“Yes! Please!"

“Twenty four hour for further observation, okay?"

“Four days, doc, is that okay?"

“Four?"

“For the holiday rush to taper off."

“Oh! Yes, yes, no problem. Wolf have issue with concussion, more four days observation. It is time to continue rounds, mister Sean from New York. Will let wolf know, okay. Happy holiday!" With that the line went silent.

Chapter 2 < > (placeholder)