"Aww, crap!" Scarred sighed, hanging his head as the screen in front of him flashed 'GAME OVER!'. "I totally had that last guy..." 
He straightened up, smiling. "Well, I'll show them this time!" He plugged another quarter into the machine and happily started blasting the crap out of the oddly-shaped invaders slowly but steadily descending towards him, Earth's last defense, their only hope for survival, their savior... He was-
"Dead?! Aww, c'mon... Lousy machine..." Scarred grumbled, fishing in his pockets for another quarter.
Finding none, he turned around, stealing a quick glance at the ground for any fallen currency. "Excuse me," he said, "do you have a quarter I could have? I gotta show this stupid machine who's boss..."
The furson he now faced turned around, revealing herself to be a strikingly beautiful she-wolf with some exotic markings. "Sure, here you go," she said, her tone friendly and her voice velvet. She smiled shyly as she placed a quarter into Scarred's paw.
"Aww, thanks!" Scarred said happily, smiling at the stranger and turning back to the machine, intent on living up to his word.
The bleeps, bloops and rattling of joysticks filled the silence as each fur went back to their game, Scarred's tail twitching spasmodically as he dodged and fired, destroying salvos of enemy ships. Finally, only one remained, going back and forth, faster and faster even as it drew closer and closer.
Scarred tried to follow its path in his own ship, firing when he could, muttering to himself "C'mon... almost got you... that's right... come to Daddy..."
The music swelled dramatically, a quick, intense beat, one sure to make all but the hardiest of players sweat just a little. With a final bleep and a crash, one ship remained onscreen...
"Yes! Victorious!" Scarred cheered, throwing his paws into the air in celebration. "You've got nothing on me, invaders!"
"Good job!" said the velvety voice again, this time from what seemed like just next to Scarred's right ear, "I never was very good at that game..."
Scarred grinned and turned to find the she-wolf he had borrowed a quarter from smiling at him, apparently just as happy as he was.
Scarred puffed up his chest a little. "Oh, it was no big deal, you know," he said casually, "All in a day's-"
BOOM! CRASH! "GAME OVER." A solemn voice announced. Scarred and the she-wolf both looked at the screen. Sure enough, the second level had started, and Scarred's ship had been quickly torn to shreds.
"-work. Aw, crap..." Scarred finished, his ears drooping slightly.
The she-wolf giggled, and Scarred tried to look nonchalant again. "Well- I mean, um- No big deal. I can do that any day... Nice try, machine, but I'll get you later!"
He peeked at the she-wolf from the corner of his eye to gauge her reaction. She was smiling, he saw, so maybe he still had some dignity left.
"Well, anyway, thanks again for the quarter!" he said, turning to her, "I'll pay you back next time I see you, I promise! Oh, and my name's Scarred, by the way." He extended his paw to shake.
The she-wolf took his paw gently in her own. "Pleasure to meet you, Scarred. My name's Whim. Don't worry about the quarter; it's really not that much..."
Scarred shook his head and said "No, no, I insist! It's more a matter of honor, really."
Whim smiled and giggled. "Well, if you say so..."
Scarred thought for a moment. "I get paid tomorrow, actually, so can I meet you here at about... five o' clock?"
"I'd like that," Whim said, covertly giving Scarred a once-over, "It's a date."
"Cool!" said Scarred, "I'll try not to blow my entire paycheck before you get here."
Whim laughed. "I'm sure you'll be too busy showing these machines who's the boss, won't you?"
"Um, yeah! Of course!" Scarred said quickly, standing up straighter, "They'll be so afraid of me, they'll let me play for free!"
A honking from outside attracted their attention. A hulking canid figure in a bright-red antique convertible was beckoning, the light glaring off his sunglasses.
"Oh! That's my ride," Whim said, waving at the figure. She started running to the door, then stopped at turned back to Scarred. "I'll see you tomorrow!" she waved.
Scarred waved back, a bit stunned, thinking "Wow... a girl in an arcade!"
***
Whim was still smiling as she opened the door of the car and got in. What a handsome stranger... and so funny, too!"
"Who was that puss, baby? Someone you know?" The driver said, a hint of menace tainting his words.
"No, Gothic, he was just-" Whim began.
"Hitting on you? Just let me know, baby, and I'll show him a hit..." Gothic growled this last part, accelerating the car into traffic.
"No, silly, he just borrowed a quarter from me, that's all," Whim explained, rubbing Gothic's arm through his black leather jacket.
"Hmmph. Well alright," Gothic grunted, turning onto a side street and picking up speed again. "Because you're my girl, and if he needs to know that..."
"If he needs to know that, I can handle it," Whim said comfortingly. "But don't worry. He's nothing like as strong and tough as you are, I'm sure..." She teased.
Gothic grinned. "That's right, baby. And tonight, I'm gonna show you..." He turned the steering wheel and braked as the car pulled into the driveway of an average-looking suburban home. He revved the engine once and shut the car off.
Jumping out of the car without opening the door, Gothic revealed his full height of 6'6" and broad, muscled chest. A white undershirt was stretched tightly across his torso, visible underneath his open leather jacket decorated with chrome studs and zippers. His denim jeans were held up by a riveted black belt and dotted with oil stains. He strode confidently around to the passenger side of the car and offered his paw to Whim.
She took it, and he pulled her out of the car and into his arms, carrying her like the newlyweds they once were. Whim giggled and clutched his chest as Gothic strode to the front door of the house, open slightly due to the warm weather, and kicked it inwards.
Ignoring the resounding crash of wood on plaster, Gothic stepped into the house and started down to his room.
"Johnny!" A voice from the kitchen on the other side of the wall to his right stopped Gothic cold. "What did I say about slamming doors?"
"Sorry, Mom!" Gothic called back. "And I told you, my name's 'Gothic' now!"
"What was that, Johnny?" the voice said, still sweet but somehow more dangerous.
Gothic blushed. "Nothing, Mom... Sorry, Mom..." He walked back to the front door, closed it quietly, and walked carefully down the hallway.
Whim just smiled. She had learned quickly that although Gothic and his father were tough guys, Gothic's mom was not someone you crossed. She was the sweetest woman in the world... until you disobeyed. Then she was likely to rip your throat out and show it to you. But the scariest part was she did it all so sweetly.
Whim came back to the present with a giggle as Gothic set her down on his bed and began removing his jacket, making sure to showcase his bulging pectorals and six-pack abs, his shirt straining against his chest as he slowly removed one sleeve... then the other...
Gothic ever-so-slowly lifted up his shirt, exposing his abs inch-by-inch... He took his time as he pulled his arms out, making sure his chest heaved just the right way... He dropped the shirt on the floor and leaned on the bed, his face right in front of Whim's.
He moved his mouth closer to hers slowly, making her want it, making her long for his kiss, his touch...
"Johnny?" The sweet voice called again, utterly disrupting the moment.
Gothic stopped where he was, turning his head to the side. "Yes, Mom...?" he called back.
"Would you come here for a minute, please?"
Gothic hung his head. "Yeah, Mom. I'll be right there," he sighed.
He kissed Whim quickly and whispered "I'll be right back, baby... Don't go anywhere..."
"I'll be waiting," Whim winked.
Gothic straightened up, picked up his shirt and pulled it on, rather more quickly than he had removed it. He unlocked his door and left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.
Whim amused herself for the next few minutes by examining Gothic's room again. Posters for metal and rock bands decorated the walls: "Wolfmother", "Steppenwolf", and "Wolfenheart", to name a few. There were two piles of clothes on the floor: One pile was rather disorganized, the clothes apparently thrown there in a heap, and the other pile was neatly stacked and folded clothes, clean and bright. A few empty pizza boxes were gathering spider webs in one corner next to a pile of crumpled soda cans.
Whim shook her head and sighed. He still kept house like a bachelor, but she was slowly training him otherwise.
On top of a dresser Whim knew to be empty were a number of figurines of macabre design. Skulls, broken and whole, bloody weapons buried in bodies, severed limbs and heads, and above them all, a great, snarling wolf, head thrown back, mouth stained with blood, torn clothes and gashes proclaiming him the victor of a bloody battle.
Whim shook her head and smiled. 'Boys and their toys...' she thought.
Presently, Gothic came back into the room, gently closing the door behind him and locking it. "Now, where were we...?"
Whim gave him the shy look that always got him going and licked her lips. Gothic literally ripped his shirt off in his haste to remove it, and Whim tried not to laugh.
"It was an old shirt, anyway," he mumbled as he fumbled with his belt, yanking it out of the loops and throwing it aside.
"Oh, you're so strong..." Whim said shyly, giggling.
"That's right, baby," Gothic grinned. "And I'm here to protect you..."
***
The brush of teeth against her fur as he removed her shirt...
The cool feel of his nose on her cheek...
His hot breath and whispers in her ear...
***
Gothic was asleep, exhausted from their 'workout'.
Whim was basking in the afterglow, but once again... something was missing... It was good, sure. It was always good... But it was never quite great...
As her mind drifted, half-asleep, Whim found her thoughts turning to earlier that day, to the arcade.
'That boy,' she thought, 'what was his name again...? ...Scarred? Yes, him... That mysterious stranger. So handsome...'
Whim fell asleep with a smile on her face, thinking fondly of the stranger's own...
*** 
"Johnny! Whim! Dinner time!" A voice chimed, following a knocking at the door.
"All right, Mom," Gothic groaned, stretching sleepily. "Be there in a sec..."
Gothic swung his feet over the side of the bed and sat there, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He yawned at pulled on his boxers, then stood up and fetched his pants. 
While he fastened them he said "Hey, baby, you awake?"
Gothic watched fondly as Whim stretched and yawned cutely. "Yeah," she said. "I'm up."
"Good. Don't wanna keep you from your supper any longer than I have to," Gothic said, and grinned. "Gotta restore all that energy we burned from our... workout."
Whim just smiled and asked "Do you have my things?"
Gothic nodded to the bed where he had thrown them as he pulled on a new shirt, identical to the one he'd earlier torn.
"Thanks, sweetie," Whim said as she pulled her clothes closer. "I'll be out in a minute."
Gothic nodded and left the room. He walked down the hallway and turned left. His old man was already at the table, reading the paper. His outfit was similar to Gothic's, and just as flattering to his own muscular frame.
"Boy," he said shortly, nodding to Gothic.
"Dad," Gothic said, nodding curtly back.
As was to be expected from two alpha males, Gothic and his father were constantly butting heads over just about everything, though they were careful to keep it in check when their wife/mother was around. She had low patience for what she called their "territory issues", and they both knew just how scary she could be.
Gothic sat himself down at the other end of the table from his father and scooted his chair in.
"Johnny, did you remember to wash up?" his mother asked, setting a plate of steaks on the table.
Gothic blushed. "Sorry, Mom," he mumbled, getting up and going to the sink. As he washed his paws, Gothic saw his father smirk at him from behind his mother's back. Gothic couldn't do anything in return, though, as he would surely have been caught by her.
Gothic sat down again after drying his hands. When his mother had turned away, he glared back at his father and lifted his lips to expose his canines. His father did the same, and they locked eyes and leaned closer and closer to one another until Gothic's mother suddenly turned around and caught them at it.
"Now, boys..." she scolded, giving each of them a stern glance.
"Sorry, dear..." her husband said quietly, looking down at the table.
"Sorry, Mom..." Gothic said, mimicking his father.
Whim came in just then, somehow looking just as radiant as if she’d come from the spa and not a nap. Gothic's mother gave her a smile, knowing she'd heard their apologies, and Whim smiled back.
Gothic and his father exchanged a small smile when the girls did, bonded in their reprimands, but quickly looked away as the girls sat down.
Gothic noticed his mother didn't ask Whim if she'd washed up, and shook his head slightly. Women...
The meal progressed civilly, Gothic's mother leading the discussions as everybody shared what they had done during the day.
Work had been fairly uneventful, Gothic said. "Some guy came in with an old sedan, looking for repairs, and I got the job." He said, slightly boastful. Gothic was a junior mechanic at the car repair center downtown, and most of the time, he was limited to helping the more senior mechanics. This was to be his first solo job, and he was determined to impress.
"That's great, honey! I'm sure you'll do a great job," his mom said, smiling. "And how was your day, Larry, dear?" she asked her husband.
Larry said "We started on the first houses of the new street a few blocks from here, pouring foundations and all that."
"That's nice..." his wife nodded. "And how was your lunch?"
Sensing a chance to gain some favor, Larry said "Honey, all the guys were jealous. They asked 'Where'd you get that, Larry? That fancy place over on Pine?' and I said 'No, my wife, Gladys, made this. She's got the best food I've ever tasted, bar none.' and they're all wishing you were their wife, now."
Gothic rolled his eyes and suppressed a sarcastic remark. He didn't need mom coming down on him.
Gladys was positively beaming. "Oh, Larry, you're such a flatterer..." she giggled.
"I was only tellin' the truth, though," Larry said solemnly. "I don't need to exaggerate your perfection."
While Gladys blushed and giggled and Ray smiled at her, Gothic turned to Whim and made a gagging gesture, causing Whim to nearly spit out her mouthful of steak as she suppressed a laugh.
Gladys turned to her just then and asked "How was your day at the bookstore, Whim, dear?"
Whim swallowed and said "Oh, it was fun. The new Redwall books came in today and just flew off the shelves! We could hardly keep up with all the furs coming in for them."
"I didn't know so many furs were into historical fiction like that," Gladys said, surprised.
Whim nodded. "Oh yeah, they're really popular. I've read a couple myself, actually, and I can see why. They're pretty exciting adventure stories, really. Young boys, especially, eat that up."
Larry and Gothic just nodded along with the girls, trying to act interested. Neither of them had much use for reading; they mostly stuck to car magazines and such.
After dinner was done, Gladys and Whim washed up while Larry and Gothic went outside to play some "friendly" father-and-son games. More likely than not, there would be more fighting than anything.
The girls came out after the dishes had been washed, dried, and put away and watched Larry and Gothic play some rather aggressive football, which soon turned into a wrestling match, both tumbling on the ground, rolling in the dirt and at each other's throats, but evenly matched. Gothic may have had youth on his side, but Larry had experience. And neither stayed at a disadvantage for very long.
When they had exhausted themselves, the boys sat next to their significant others on the porch and watched the sunset as they nuzzled affectionately. Such was life at the Goethe house...
Later that night, after all the noise of the day had died down, the house and its inhabitants lay sleeping... with the exception of one.
Whim lay awake for a long time, thinking of the stranger by the name of Scarred, wondering why she couldn't get him out of her head, asking herself 'Why does he seem so... right?'
***
At that same moment, as it happened, Scarred lay in his bed miles away, thinking of what had happened in the arcade that day. 'Damn. Finally made it to level two, and then I totally blow it when somebody comes and talks with me.'
He turned over, pulling the blankets tighter around himself. 'Oh well. At least she seemed pretty cool. I mean, she was hanging out at the arcade... how often do you see that...? I wonder if knows anything about Dragon's Quest...'
Scarred smiled as he fell asleep, dreaming of piloting that spaceship again, the last, best hope of every furson on the planet...
***
"Game over for you, alien scum!" Scarred yelled the next morning, sitting up in bed.
As he came to his senses, he saw he was no longer in the cockpit of his space fighter, but home in bed. His alarm was buzzing, warning him it was time for work.
Happy with his conquest of the invaders, even if he'd only dreamed it, Scarred set about his morning routine with a smile. He bathed, brushed, and put on some clothes over his boxers. Breakfast was Liver-Os and milk, as usual, and he stacked the bowl and spoon with the others by the sink, noting he'd have to do dishes soon.
As he walked to work, he reflected on his good fortune, as he'd been taught to do every day. He had his own apartment! Sure, it was small and a bit dingy, but what more did he need? He had a job! Maybe it was just cashier/stockboy down at the grocery store, but it was decent money! He had fun! That was probably the most important thing, he always thought. He could afford some books, a few trips to the arcade, take-out once in a while...
His life may have been simple, but Scarred loved it. He was happy and healthy, out on his own and away from his parents, his own man! He had friends to hang with, so he wasn't often lonely, and there was always something new ahead. Each new day was his to enjoy, and enjoy them he did.
Cheerful as always, Scarred strolled into the grocery store, opening the back door via his key, and donned his apron. He set the coffee to percolate in the employee break room and grabbed one of the donuts supplied by his boss. Flipping the newspaper straight to the comic strip section, Scarred chuckled as he finished his donut.
A glance at the clock let him know it was time to get to work. He folded up the newspaper and set it on the table, washed his paws of donut crumbs, and left the break room. Scarred exchanged greetings with a coworker cleaning up in Aisle 3 as he made his way to the stock room.
A checklist on a clipboard hung on the other side of the door through which Scarred entered. He took it from its hook, looked at all the boxes stacked high and low on the shelves in front of him, and sighed happily. It was going to be a busy morning...
***
Meanwhile, the Goethe household was just getting started on the day. Whim and Gladys scuttled about in the kitchen, gossiping merrily as they prepared breakfast for their beloved husbands, who would grunt appreciatively, shovel it down, and thank them with a kiss.
Gladys insisted on cleaning it up, as usual, leaving Whim free to prepare for her own day.  She showered, shook herself off and dried with a towel, smelling Gothic's scent on the other one hanging over the shower rod. She spent a few minutes making sure her fur wasn't sticking up all over the place and changed into her work uniform, a dark green shirt and brown pants.
Satisfied with her appearance, Whim hugged Gladys goodbye, took the lunches for herself and Gothic she had made, and went outside, where Gothic was waiting in his car, blasting some metal tune Whim couldn't immediately identify.
"Hey baby," he said as she got in, nuzzling her neck. "You smell good today."
She laughed and nuzzled Gothic back. "You always say that."
"I always mean it, too, baby," Gothic insisted, putting the car into gear and backing out of the driveway. "I love your smell."
Whim smiled and thanked him with a squeeze of his arm as they drove out of the neighborhood and into town. Although Gothic's work was closer, he always insisted on driving Whim to hers.
When they pulled up outside the bookstore, Whim and Gothic kissed briefly before Whim got out of the car, smiling. "Have a great day at work, honey!" she said.
"Thanks, baby!" Gothic said, and drove off.
Whim walked into the bookstore and straight to the back, waving to a few of her coworkers on the way. Posted on a clipboard in the employee break room in the back were everyone's job assignments for the day. Whim looked, and saw she had been given charge of the children's book section, as she'd requested.
Smiling cheerfully, Whim went out to straighten up her work area. She couldn't wait until the bookstore opened for the day. She absolutely adored children, and loved to show them all the wonders that could be found in books.
'And someday,' she mused, looking over the shelves, 'When I have children of my own... I'll make sure they grow up reading. And I'll make sure they grow up loved.'
Whim knew Gothic was a good mate; he was strong, handsome, confident and oh-so-amorous. He himself wasn't sure about being a father, but Whim was sure he'd be great at it. Sure, he was a big tough guy on the outside... but she knew, deep down, his inner softie waited. She had felt the touch of that deeper gentleness herself, she was sure.
Whim spotted an upside-down book and took it off the shelf to right it. When she looked at the title, however, she knew what she was going to read at story time. Setting it aside on the small stand near the rocking chair, Whim sighed happily. What a day it would be!
***
Wiping sweat from his brow, Scarred looked around at all he had accomplished. Fully half the list was now checked off, and it wasn't even lunch time!
BEEP BEEP! BEEP BEEP! Scarred glanced down at his watch, which was now setting off its alarm.
"Oh, scratch that. It IS lunchtime!" Scarred said to no one in particular.
He headed back towards the main door into the grocery store, stopping to hang up the clipboard on its hook. Two people would be working in the stockroom after lunch, Scarred knew, but thanks to him, they'd have an easier time.
Scarred exited into the grocery store proper, greeting the customers he saw and offering his help as he made his way to the break room. When Scarred entered, he saw a skunk with his back to him, peering into the vending machine.
Sneaking up carefully, Scarred stopped right behind the skunk and said loudly "Richard! How's it going today?!"
The skunk jumped about a foot in the air and whirled around. "Geez! Scarred! You nearly gave me an attack! I told you not to do these things to me...!"
Scarred laughed and patted his friend on the shoulder. "I know, I know... I'm sorry. I just-"
"Just couldn't help yourself, yeah, yeah, I know." Richard finished for him, but he was smiling. "How you been, Scarred?"
They shared a friendly hug. "I've been good," Scarred said, "Happy as ever. How've you been? The medicines working?"
"Oh, yeah, I've been doing great!" Richard smiled widely. "Ever since I started taking them- bam! No more problems." Richard then looked around, leaned in close, and said quietly "And between me and you... I might even have found a girl!"
"No way! That's awesome, man!" Scarred said, high-fiving and then fist-bumping with Richard. "What's her name? What does she look like?"
Richard's eyes grew soft, and his voice mushy. "Her name's Tansy, and she's the most beautiful skunk you'll ever see... she's got... just..." words failed Richard as he tried to put his feelings into words.
"I think I see what you're saying," Scarred smiled, sparing his friend. "Well, good luck, man. I'm sure you two will be great together."
Richard laughed. "That's you, Scarred, always the optimist. We're not exactly an 'item' yet, you know..."
"You want me to talk to her for you? Let her know what a great guy you are? And that you exist?" Scarred offered.
"Aw, geez, Scarred, I- you- I can..." Richard tried to protest, then stopped. "Would ya?" he said shyly. "It'd mean a lot to me..."
"Of course, man," Scarred said. "You're my friend, and you know I'll help you out however I can."
"Thanks, Scarred," Richard said gratefully. "I'll owe ya big for this!" He and Scarred shook hands and fist-bumped again.
Richard selected an item from the vending machine as Scarred put something into the microwave oven.
"What about you, Scarred? Any special ladies in your life?" Richard asked as he ate from a bag of chips.
Scarred thought. "Well, there was actually a girl at the arcade yesterday..."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Richard laughed.
"No, it's just... unusual, I guess," Scarred smiled. "Anyway, I borrowed a quarter from her, and-"
"And got her number, then used the quarter to call her? Brilliant!" Richard said.
"What? No, no..." Scarred said, chuckling. "I was trying to get past this one level in a game, and I was really close, but I needed just one more chance... but I was out of quarters, of course, so I asked her if I could borrow one, and she said okay."
"Wow, that's some story..." Richard said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "You're a regular ladies' man, Scarred."
Scarred said, just as sarcastically, "Well, excuse me, Mr. 'So-Many-Ladies-I-Don't-Know-What-To-Do-With-Them-All'. At least she knows I exist..."
Scarred and Richard glared at each other for a moment, then laughed. Neither had been serious, of course; making fun of each other was just how their friendship went.
"Well, at least you know each other's names, that's something," Richard said, throwing away his now-empty bag.
The microwave oven beeped, and Scarred opened the door and took out his lunch. "True," he said. "And I think you'll be excited to know that I'll be seeing her again today..."
"Really?" Richard said, "She shop here, too?"
"Oh, you're a wit," Scarred said, rolling his eyes. "Nope, even better. I'm meeting her to give her her quarter back. Well, not her quarter, I mean... I used that one... but a quarter."
"Ooh, nice move!" Richard said admiringly. "Makes you look all honorable, but really, you've secured a chance to woo her..."
Scarred snorted, spitting out a mouthful of noodles. "What is it with you?" He laughed, wiping his mouth. "Maybe I don't want to 'woo' ladies, unlike you, apparently..."
"No? You just gonna let them come to you, then?" Richard said, leaning forward on the table. "I mean, I suppose it could happen, but chances seem slim..."
Scarred slowly leaned forward as he spoke, until his nose was almost touching Richard's. "Maybe... I... want... to... woo... you..." he said softly and, he hoped, seductively.
Richard looked as if he couldn't quite decide how to feel. "Um, look, Scarred... It's not that- I mean- um, you're a nice guy and all, but-"
"Just kidding!" Scarred said cheerfully, leaning back and laughing.
"Aw, you- you're a jerk, you know that?" Richard said, throwing a balled-up napkin at Scarred as he laughed, blushing.
"Sorry to disappoint you, Richard," Scarred said. "But at least maybe Tansy will love you."
"Yeah yeah, laugh it up," Richard said, smiling. 'We'll see who's laughing when I'm with Tansy and you're stuck making out with your pillow."
"That's the spirit!" Scarred cheered, shoveling more noodles into his mouth.
"Seafood-flavored ramen again?" Richard asked, noting Scarred's choice of lunch. "You'd think you'd tired of that by now..."
Scarred shook his head. "Nope. I love the taste."
"And the price, I'm sure," Richard said. "They're, what? 4 for a dollar?"
"5," Scarred said. "And okay, maybe the price is a small factor..."
"All part of the bachelor lifestyle, right?" Richard said. "Cold cereal for breakfast- sometimes with milk- and noodles for every other meal."
"Not every meal... sometimes," admitted Scarred. "But look who's talking. Chips for lunch?"
"I'm just not very hungry today," Richard lied. As if to disprove this, his stomach growled. Richard tried to look as if it hadn't happened.
"C'mon, have some ramen, on me..." Scarred invited, passing Richard a package.
"Oh, all right..." Richard sighed, then smiled. "Thanks, buddy."
The two chatted for the rest of their lunch break and then went back to work, Richard at one register and Scarred at another.
Scarred thanked his lucky stars for the joys of friendship.
***
"...and that, children, is the story of the sun and moon." Whim finished, closing the book.
The children clapped, and Whim smiled at the sight of them, little stories just waiting to be written.
"That's all for today, children! Remember, there are lots of great books, so be sure to look around!” Whim said, and stood up.
The children thanked her and began to disperse. Whim's manager, a compassionate female badger by the name of Beatrice (though she went by just Bea) who also happened to be one of Whim's best friends, came up to her and said "Good job out there today, Whim. You really knocked their socks off."
"Thanks!" said Whim, waving to a shy little lion cub that looked her way, "It's really a pleasure. I just love children."
"I can tell. And they seem to love you, too," Bea said. "Which is why I'd like to assign you to the children's section permanently from now on- if you want to..."
Whim gasped and hugged Bea. "I'd love to! Thank you so much! Thankyou thankyou thankyou...!" she gushed, overjoyed.
Bea laughed and hugged Whim back. "You're welcome! And really, you deserve it, Whim."
"Still, I'm so happy, I could kiss you!" Whim said excitedly, her face split on a wide grin.
"Go ahead!" Bea said, laughing with a smile. "It would be the most action I've gotten in a while."
"Aww, poor Bea," said Whim, patting her friend's paw consolingly. "You can have anyone you want, but you still can't choose?"
"Shove off," Bea said cheerfully. "You know it doesn't work that way..."
"I know, I know... I remember you explaining it to us..." Whim said. "But what kind of friend would I be if I didn't tease you about it?"
"A better one, maybe," Bea said. Both girls laughed. "All right, go take your lunch break," Bea said. "I'll cover for you."
"All right, thanks, Bea," Whim said, smiling as she returned to the employee break room.
Due to the relatively small amount of staff at the book store, only one person was allowed to take lunch at a time while the manager covered for them, so Whim was alone with her thoughts in the break room.
'Gothic doesn't get off work until 7:00...' she mused as she chewed on a bite of a roast beef sandwich. 'So I'll have about two hours to hang out at the arcade...'
Truthfully, she was only half-expecting Scarred to show up, much less with the promised quarter. But she found herself strangely hoping for him to be there, somehow. What was it about him that so fascinated her, Whim wondered. Gothic was tall, muscular and serious, and Scarred was... not.
Was that just it then? Was it just finding someone so unlike what she was used to seeing? Perhaps her mind kept returning to him because it was an amusing contrast... but Whim didn't think that was it. If she had to admit it, maybe it was really because...
Bea suddenly opened the door and stuck her head in. "Time's up! Get back to work!" she said cheerfully.
"Oh! Sorry," Whim said, standing up. "I was... lost in thought, I guess."
"Careful, with all that space in your head, you may never find the way out," Bea warned.
Whim rolled her eyes, but laughed anyway. "Very funny." She threw out her trash and walked back to her job in the children's section.
Starting tomorrow, it'd be permanent!
***
Scarred hurriedly threw his apron on the hook and rushed out the door with a quick goodbye to Richard. "Bye Richard see you tomorrow!"
"Um, bye," Richard said, startled. But Scarred was already gone.
Running down the street, leaping over imagined foes, Scarred rushed to the arcade. He took the debit card out of his wallet and swiped it in the ATM inside the arcade. With the press of a few buttons, he entered his PIN, and another bout of button-pushing had the machine spitting out twenty-one dollars and a receipt.
Scarred grabbed both these and his card, tucked the twenty-dollar bill and card into his wallet, and put the one-dollar bill into the nearby change machine. It whirred, clinked and crashed, and four quarters appeared in the dish. Scarred snatched them up and examined them. When he found the shiniest one, he put that one in his other paw and the rest into his pocket.
The bell over the door jingled as someone entered, and Scarred looked up eagerly. Sure enough, it was the she-wolf from the day before. Whim, her name was.
Scarred bounded up to her and stopped with his paw stuck out, the quarter resting in the center. "Here you are! Just like I promised!" he said happily.
Whim blinked. For a moment, she couldn't get her head straight. Was that his smell? It was... intoxicating.
Then she noticed the quarter in his outstretched paw and the big smile on his face.
She smiled back and took the quarter. "Wow, thank you!" she said. "I was almost not expecting you to show up, honestly..." she admitted.
His smile... his smile was infectious...
"You're welcome!" Scarred said happily. "Like I said, it was my honor to be able to return that which I borrowed from you... And it would be my honor to treat a friend to dinner."
Scarred bowed slightly, hoping she'd take him up on his offer, because he quite liked making new friends.
Whim gasped. She had not been expecting this, certainly. If Gothic were to find out...
'Well, he won't.' Whim decided. 'There's plenty of time until he comes to pick me up. I can hang out with a friend until then, surely.'
"I'd like that... friend," she said shyly, smiling.
"Cool!" said Scarred. "Where to, friend Whim?" He opened the door and held it for her as she walked out.
Whim was a bit giddy. She hadn't been out on the town like this since... well, before Gothic. True, this boy seemed much more innocent than her escorts back then, but...
"You don't mind Taco Terrain, do you?" she asked.
That infectious smile again... "Actually, I love it!"
They walked the short distance to the restaurant, Scarred talking happily while Whim listened. 'His voice,' she thought, 'it's so... kind. So gentle...'
Gothic's, by comparison, was usually rough, always seeming to be on the edge of a growl. When he was speaking normally, his words held an air of malice, as if he was itching for a fight.
'It seems,' thought Whim, 'as though Scarred wears his gentle nature on the outside, much like Gothic does with his tough nature... but why does Scarred appeal to me so?'
By the time they got to the restaurant, Scarred was convinced his new friend was already one of the best he had. She seemed genuinely amused by his jokes, let him talk her ear off, and best of all, seemed to share several of his interests. He had noted her uniform, recognizing it from his infrequent visits. Plus, the fact that she apparently hung out in arcades, and her choice of Taco Terrain?
'She's definitely awesome,' he thought decidedly.
They even ordered something similar: He, two fish tacos without lettuce, and she, two beef tacos without lettuce.
As they ate, Scarred told Whim about what he had done earlier that day. It seemed Tansy, the girl Richard was crushing on, had come into the store.
"So I go up to her and say 'Excuse me, Miss. We're having a special today on something you won't find anywhere else.' and she says 'Really? What is it?' and I point to Richard, who wasn't doing anything at the moment, and said 'Prime skunk beefcake, and he's interested to talk to you.' and so she giggles, kind of, and goes to see Richard, and they really hit it off."
Scarred chewed thoughtfully on his taco. "Richard says he owes me a big one, but I just said 'That what friends are for.'. And oh, you should have seen what I did to him earlier," Scarred laughs. "We were talking about you, sort of. Well, he was telling me about Tansy, and asked if there were 'any special ladies in my life'. I told him I met you at the arcade, and of course, he starts thinking I'm gonna try to hook up with you, and I say to him something like "Maybe it's you I want to hook up with' all, like, teasing you know. But he falls for it and gets really confused, and... ah, it was funny. I told him I was joking about that, and then he thought it was funny, too. Ah, but that's just a normal day for me. How was your day at the bookstore?"
Whim was so busy trying to figure out if Scarred had meant he wasn't interested in her as more than friends that she nearly missed his question. "How did you know I worked at the bookstore?" she asked, even more confused.
"You uniform, silly Whim!" he said gently, pointing at her.
Whim looked down at herself, blushing a bit at the nickname "Oh, right. Silly me, indeed," she smiled. "It went very well, thanks for asking. I got put in charge of the children's section, actually."
"Wow, that's cool!" Scarred said, his eyes widening. "That means you get to do story time, right?" 
Whim had to swallow hard. Scarred was almost too perfect... "Yeah, it does," she said "That's always a lot of fun for me. I love children."
"Me too! They're just so... fun!" Scarred said fondly. "You get to hug them, and love them, and help them find their way in the world... I've always wanted to help people learn to make the world a better place, and children are the future, they say..."
Whim didn't, couldn't say anything. She'd never had a discussion on this level with Gothic... was it possible she was...?
'No, no!' Whim mentally slapped herself. 'I love Gothic. We wouldn't be mates otherwise, right? This... crush on Scarred is just that, a crush. It will pass in time.' But in her deepest soul... she was not so sure.
"Well, look at me talking your ear off!" Scarred said regretfully. "I'll let you talk now. What can you tell me about yourself?"
"Oh! Right!" Whim blushed. "Um, my name is Whim... well, you knew that already, ha ha... and um, well I work at the bookstore- I guess I told you that too, didn't I...? But, um-" She gulped nervously, unsure of what to say.
Scarred put his paw on hers gently, and Whim felt an electric tingle jump through her body. "Don't worry, I can promise you I'm not a creepy stalker!" Scarred laughed.
Whim suddenly felt quite warm. Scarred had not moved his paw. What did it mean? "Well, my mother was a wolf and my father was a tiger, which is why I look so..." Whim gushed, stopping to look for a word.
"Exotic?" suggested Scarred innocently.
Whim blushed and laughed a little. "Yeah, I suppose you could put it that way... I grew up in this town and had all my schooling here so far, and..." Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to tell Scarred about Gothic. "...my best girlfriend, Bea, also works at the bookstore, but... that's really about it."
"Girlfriend?" Scarred said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin and nodding.
Whim blushed deeper and rushed to explain. "No! No! That's not- It isn't like that, we-"
Scarred laughed and patted Whim's paw again. "I'm just kidding... I knew what you meant, don't worry... Not that there's anything wrong with that..." He smiled suggestively and winked.
Whim couldn't help but laugh. Coming from Gothic, this comment would have seemed boorish and chauvinistic... but Scarred somehow just made it funny. Was it his natural humor? Whim wondered why she was still giggling and blushing like a schoolgirl around Scarred.
"Sorry, no free shows," she smiled. "Well, maybe if you asked Bea nicely..."
Scarred laughed too. "Always good to have a friend with a sense of humor." His face suddenly clouded, and he looked worried. "Speaking of friends, I mean... I haven't offended you or anything tonight? It's been so long since I had a friend who was a girl, I... I'm just not sure if I'm being really... guy-ish, or anything..."
Whim shook her head gently. "Oh no, no, you're fine, really... I think you're just the type of person everybody likes, actually."
Scarred smiled brightly. "You think so? That’s what my parents always said, too! Thanks!"
"Oh, yeah, well... no problem..." Whim said, flustered.
"Say, it's only..." Scarred glanced at his watch, "...about 5:30. You wanna hit up the arcade? On me, of course."
"Yeah, that'd be cool," Whim said. "Of course, all the machines are listening to you now, right? You're gonna make sure I win every time?"
"What do you-?" Scarred asked, confused. Then he remembered. "Oh! Oh, well, funny story, you see..."
As they left the restaurant and headed back down the street, Scarred spun a fantastical tale of spies and intrigue, magic and science.
"... and so they sent me back in time to right before you met me, but as you can see, I had to let the machines think they're better." Scarred finished as they stopped in front of the arcade. He held the door open for Whim and bowed.
"So they didn't rise up against us, right?" Whim giggled, stepping into the arcade.
"That's right!" Scarred said seriously. "Time travel and magic are kind of cool and all, but I didn't think the attempted destruction or enslavement of every furson on the planet was worth it..."
"Well, that's very sweet of you, Scarred. And so courageous!" Whim said, winking. "But how'd you get your clothes back if they were torn to shreds by the robots?"
"Er, well, they sent some back in time with me..." Scarred said, thinking quickly. "Because a naked guy showing up in the middle of the arcade is kind of weird. And it might have freaked you out a bit."
Whim couldn't help but wonder suddenly how Scarred would have looked then... To her embarrassment, she thought that she'd rather have liked it...
"Ah, here we are!" Scarred was saying. He pressed something into her paw. "5 dollars for me, and 5 for you!"
"Oh! Thank you..." Whim said, coming back to the present with a snap.
"Say, um..." 
Was Scarred actually blushing? Whim was shocked. 
"Do you think we could..."
'Oh no! What is he going to ask? Is he going to ask me for another date? Do I say yes?' Whim was afraid, yet excited. Confused, but knew what she wanted to say.
"Play some Galaxy Invasion together?" Scarred finished, not looking directly at Whim.
Whim felt sweet relief... and bitter disappointment. "I'd love to, Scarred."
He perked up considerably. "Really?! Cool! You're a great friend!" In his excitement, he forgot himself and hugged Whim tightly.
The world slowed down for Whim. She could feel their heartbeats, so close... could smell his scent, an intoxicating blend... She wanted to throw him down to the ground right there, but she couldn't move... all was quiet...
Suddenly, the noise came rushing back as he let go. "Sorry! I'm so sorry!" Scarred was saying, tripping over his words. "I didn't mean to hug you... I forgot to ask first... It was just a friendly hug, I swear! I wasn't trying to feel you up, really!"
Whim couldn't breathe for a moment. Then all the air whooshed back into her lungs. She looked around, slightly dazed, and saw Scarred blushing profusely, not looking at her in his shame.
Her own cheeks were on fire, but Whim smiled and said "It's okay, Scarred, really. I... didn't mind..."
"Oh, good, good," Scarred gushed, relieved. "I know not everybody likes it when I hug them, so... Sorry."
"It's okay," Whim assured him. "Let's go play..."
"Yeah!" Scarred cheered, racing to the machine.
***
Later that night, Whim lay in bed next to Gothic. But it was not he had who put the blush on her face. It was not he who Whim had thought of during their act of passion...
It was Scarred. Whim could feel her heart beat to his name.
Lub-dub.
Lub-dub.
Scar-red.
Scar-red.
***
Scarred, too, lay in bed, drifting towards sleep. He'd been reading a little bit to help him relax after his exciting night.
Whim sure was good at Galaxy Invasion!
And those fish tacos... delicious!
***
The next month passed by in a much similar fashion. Scarred would get off work and rush to the arcade to play some games with Whim, or just watch her if he couldn't afford to. Sometimes they'd go out to eat with Richard and Tansy, who seemed like a very happy couple.
Richard, of course, wouldn't let Scarred live down the fact that he was with Tansy and Scarred was "just friends" with Whim, but Scarred always laughed it off.
"She and I hug often, for your information," Scarred said one lunch time, trying to act as if he thought it was a big deal.
"Yeah? So do me and you!" Richard had laughed. "That doesn't mean we're going out, does it?"
"Exactly! You and I are just friends, and I'm just friends with Whim," Scarred had smiled. "See how that works?"
Yeah, yeah," Richard had admitted. "But I bet you don't kiss...!"
Scarred had laughed. "I'm not having this conversation with you! You wouldn't like how it ends!"
"And where would that be?" Richard had been cracking up by this time.
Scarred had said seriously "In my bed, with you wondering how you could have passed me up before..."
Richard had slowly stopped laughing, and Scarred had just sipped his chowder. Then a sudden burst of laughter had sent chowder spraying onto the table.
"Okay, I'm sorry!" Scarred had started laughing hysterically. "The look on your face-! Priceless!"
"Oh you are such a JERK!" Richard had started laughing, too. "You do that again, and maybe I'll take you up on it, just to shut you up!"
They had eventually calmed down, cleaned up, and got back to work.
Whim slowly began to realize over the month that her crush on Scarred was more than just that. She hated to admit it, found it hard to accept, but could no longer deny to herself how she felt.
'I love him...' she had thought one morning, looking in the mirror. 'I love Scarred...'
She had at first felt horribly guilty. She was Gothic's mate! She should be faithful to him! She loved him first, didn't she? But after thinking about it, she wasn't sure. Scarred never called her 'baby', always 'Whim'. Scarred was never angry, never fighting. She wasn't afraid of Scarred, afraid that he might one day snap...
She loved everything about Scarred: his honesty, his charm, his innocence, his humor, his generosity... she could just go on!
Whim had talked over it with Bea, professing her feelings for Scarred, her guilt, everything.
Bea had thought for a long time and said "Whim, you're my girl, you know that? And I love you as friend. I don't want to see you hurting like this, okay? You gotta go up to Scarred and tell him how you feel... You'll feel better, at least."
"But what then?" Whim had asked. "Gothic's still my mate, and who knows what Scarred will think... he doesn't even know about him!"
"I don't know, Whim... you'll just have to cross that bridge when... if you come to it..."
"Thanks, Bea," Whim had said, smiling through watery eyes, "I knew I could count on you..."
They had hugged as Bea said "What are friends for?" But her own heart ached now more than ever...
And so it came to pass that, on one fine day approximately a month after they'd met, Whim and Scarred were sitting outside the ice cream parlor.
Scarred was as happy as ever, scarfing down his vanilla soft-serve with the speed of a lawnmower through grass.
Whim was eating considerably slower, her ice cream melting onto her paw. She was torn up inside about what she was about to do. Gothic was gone until Monday on a trip with his friends, and a long, lonely weekend stretched in front of Whim.
"What's the matter, Whim?" Scarred asked, worried. "Your ice cream gross?"
"No, I-" Whim shook her head and said quietly "I... need to talk to you about something..."
"Okay, shoot," Scarred said, popping the last bite of ice cream into his mouth and chewing. He wiped his paws on a napkin.
"Not here..." Whim said "Can we go to your place...?"
"My bachelor pad, you mean? Sure!" Scarred said cheerfully, trying to keep Whim's spirits up.
They started down the sidewalk, Scarred giving Whim some napkins to wipe her paws with and eating her ice cream himself. He kept talking merrily, hoping to keep his friend happy. Whim didn't say much, but she did smile, and Scarred took this as a good sign.
By the time they arrived at Scarred's apartment, the ice cream was gone again and Whim was smiling, if a bit sadly.
They took the stairs up to the third floor and entered apartment 3D, something that amused Scarred every time he thought of it.
"Well, here it is!" he said as he opened the door. "Not much to look at, but all mine!"
Whim noted with a sad smile that Scarred was neater than Gothic, too. There were no pizza boxes and soda cans littering the floor, no piles of junk lying around, and the place looked as if it had been dusted. Sure, there were a few bowls by the sink, but that was normal.
They sat down on the slightly rickety couch and Scarred said "Okay, Whim. Now you can tell me what's got you feeling so down..."
"Well," she began slowly, "it's about our friendship..."
"No! I knew it!" Scarred began wailing piteously. "I'm a horrible friend! I'm so sorry! I-" seeing that Whim wasn't even smiling, he stopped.
"Sorry," he said gently. "Go on."
Whim shook her head. "No, that's the thing, Scarred... you're a great friend, but I..." she stopped, breathing deep.
Scarred patted her paw. "It's okay, I'm listening..." he comforted her.
"Scarred... I want to be more than just friends..." Whim said, her eyes watering as she looked at him. "Scarred... I love you!"
There was silence for a moment, two.
Then Scarred said, his voice uncertain "Whim, you... love me?"
He looked into her eyes, tears in his own. "I- nobody's ever- but you?"
Whim nodded. There was no turning back now.
"I- I don't know what to say..." Scarred said. For perhaps the first time in his life, he was speechless.
"Then don't say anything…" Whim said, leaning towards Scarred, "Act..." 
She kissed him gently on the lips. They parted slightly of their own accord, and Whim kissed them again, using her tongue to force them open.
Slowly, Scarred brought his paws up and put them around Whim's back. She did the same, crushing their faces together.
Scarred was hesitant at first, unsure, but Whim led him on, showed him the tricks, baiting him into using them. 
It was wonderful, magical! This was the greatest feeling in the world! Scarred couldn't stop, never wanted to. This was pure joy...!
Whim broke it off almost before Scarred knew what had happened. She was panting a bit as she said "Meet me in the bedroom in a few minutes..." and raced off.
Scarred nodded dumbly, staring into space while his mind gathered itself up.
"...Wow..." he finally said. "Screw the arcade..."
He walked stiffly into the bedroom, as if unsure of how to relax his muscles. But when he saw what waited for him in bed, he fell to the floor.
Whim was in bed, but her clothes were not. She winked seductively at Scarred and beckoned him over. 
Scarred went to Whim...
***
"Need help with that shirt...?"
"Well, um..."
"It's okay, Scarred... you can relax... Are those your ribs?"
"I think I saw a video about this in health class..."
"Here's something they DON'T show you in school..."
***
Whim sighed happily. This time... it had been great.
She had shown Scarred a few moves, gave him the rhythm, and he had picked up on it. She had never felt so good!
And what was Scarred doing now? He was cuddling with her, his head on her chest, curled up against her. She nibbled on his ear softly, and he looked up, a dopey grin on his face.
"Yes, Whim?" Scarred asked through his happy fog. It was a bit hard to concentrate when he felt so amazing, but Whim helped.
In response, she kissed him again, and he kissed her back, their tongues dancing delicately over one another.
Scarred had never known never even thought that kissing could be this good! Not to mention... well, you know.
"I feel so... complete..." he said afterwards. "Whim, I- I love you so much...!"
"I love you even more, Scarred..." Whim smiled. She felt happier than she had in a long time, freed from her burden. But there was one thing she had to do right now...
"Do you have a phone?" She asked softly. "I've got to call home..."
"Hmm? Oh yeah..." Scarred said, blinking. "It's in the kitchen..."
Whim lay there for a moment longer. "Scarred?"
"Yeah?" he murmured.
"You're gonna have to get off of me..."
"...Okay..." said Scarred, slightly disappointed. He rolled over onto the other side of the bed.
Whim slipped out from under the covers and left the room. "Don't stray, kitty..." she said.
Scarred went into the bathroom to look himself over. He was wide-eyed and jumpy now. He felt full of energy and completely, utterly happy.
He was proudly examining a small nibble-mark on his neck when silk-smooth arms draped themselves over his torso from behind. And by the feel of the body pressed up against his back, Whim wasn't wearing any clothes...
"Naughty kitty. Come back to Momma..." she said softly, nibbling his ear.
Scarred followed as if on a leash, utterly devoted, completely happy...
***
They did not leave the house the rest of the weekend. They took their meals in little more than their underwear, Scarred cooking what he could for Whim and ordering in what he couldn't.
They spent most of their time cuddling and kissing, talking literature and video games. Both were in a constant state of euphoria just from being in each other's presence. Scarred counted his blessings every time he saw Whim lying next to him, or felt her touch. 
When Monday morning rolled around, Scarred made breakfast for the both of them, even though he was the one who had to leave first. They had shared a long kiss goodbye, and Whim sadly watched Scarred leave.
How could she go back to Gothic after this? It would never be the same between them, even if he didn't know it. Well, she would just have to be careful, that was all. As risky as this weekend had been, continuing to see Scarred would multiply the danger for the both of them.
Whim knew she couldn't stop now, though. That would be like going without air... Scarred had already become an essential part of her life. Even so, they couldn't keep this up forever; something was gonna give way, and it would all come crashing down. She could only hope the damages wouldn't be too severe...
Whim did the dishes and placed a romantic note on Scarred's pillow before she left for work herself. She arrived a bit early and headed to the employee break room to wait. Bea was there already, sipping coffee and reading the latest Redwall book.
She took one look at Whim and said, smiling knowingly, "How was your weekend, Whim? Memorable?"
Whim laughed and responded "You could say that..." She poured herself a cup of coffee as well.
"You were his first, weren't you?" Bea said suddenly.
Whim almost choked on her coffee, coughing and sputtering. "Bea! Geez! Why would you- what kind of question is that?"
Bea laughed and handed Whim a napkin. "C'mon, he hangs out in arcades, he's supposedly nice, witty, and funny... he had no clue you were into him... he's a bit of a nerd, Whim. Most girls look right past him."
Whim started protesting. "No, I'm sure that's not why, he's just..." She searched for the right words.
"Too nice?" Bea suggested. "All the guys like Gothic get the girls' attention, and nice, quiet guys like Scarred get overlooked."
"Yeah... you're probably right," Whim admitted. "He said he's from the next town over, before you start to wonder whether you'd seen him in school."
Bea nodded. "I see... I'm sure he's not the type to go to the sports games either, right?"
"Yeah. He said he always liked to curl up with a good book, instead."
"Oh-ho!" Bea chuckled. "No wonder you like him! He can hold up his end of an intelligent discussion, hmm?"
"Oh come now, Bea," Whim protested. "Gothic can... well, maybe you're right... it IS kind of nice..."
"Sorry, I don't mean to... turn you against Gothic or anything..." Bea apologized.
Whim sighed. "It's all so confusing, Bea... Who do I choose, if and when it comes down to that? Gothic's my mate, but... Scarred feels like my soul mate, you know?"
"No, can't say I do, actually..." Bea said, a little bitterly.
Whim paled. "Oh- geez- Bea, I'm so sorry...! I've been thoughtless..." she sighed.
Bea sighed too. "No, I'm sorry, Whim. I didn't mean for it to come out like that..."
"Well I'M the one who's been lamenting her love life when she's got it better than some..."
Bea laughed a little. "Well, thanks, Whim. I feel LOADS better now..."
"Well, if it's any comfort..." Whim said gently, placing her paw on Bea's, "you can have Gothic."
Both girls laughed and hugged, friendship intact.
***
"Holy crap! You've fallen for her, haven't you?!" Richard greeted Scarred as he walked through the door.
"What? I- but... how?" Scarred stuttered, confused.
Richard laughed, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "You've got that same dopey expression on your face I saw in the mirror the day after I started dating Tansy. Feels great, doesn't it?"
Scarred sat down in a chair, saying excitedly "It really does! I feel so alive! I want to- to run on water, and lift mountains, and- and fly! I wanna fly, Richard!"
"I'm happy for you, Scarred," Richard said. "But don't go jumping off the roof just yet, okay?"
"Well, all right," Scarred said grudgingly. "Can I still lift mountains, though?"
Richard smiled. "You can come help me lift mountains of boxes this morning..."
"Ah, good enough. I suppose!" Scarred said happily, jumping out of his chair. 'C'mon, let's go!" He grabbed Richard by the hand and ran out of the break room.
Richard narrowly missed grabbing his donut before being yanked away with Scarred. They ran to the stock room, Richard struggling to keep up, nearly banging into displays and shelves.
When they finally stopped, Richard had to catch his breath. He panted as Scarred grabbed the list and gave half of it and a pen to Richard.
"Aww, what's the matter?" Scarred teased. "Too much of Tansy's cooking?" He poked Richard gently in his stomach.
"Very funny..." Richard said, swatting Scarred's paw away. "Not all of us are as 'alive' this morning as you, you know."
"I know," Scarred said happily. "I still count my blessings every day!"
Richard nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yeah, we're both lucky to have such lovely ladies in our life, aren't we?"
"Darn straight," Scarred agreed.
He and Richard bumped fists and went to work.
***
Due to conflicting lunch schedules, Scarred and Whim could not meet up. But after work that evening, and for most evenings afterward, they gladly made up for this, returning to Scarred's place to engage in some recreational activities not found in any arcade.
Whim had arranged for Gothic to begin picking her up at the library just down the street from Scarred's apartment. He had scoffed and asked if she didn't already get enough of books during the day, but agreed.
Whim had it worked out that she and Scarred could have their fun for nearly two hours each weeknight while keeping both her lovers in the dark about one another. It wasn't a perfect arrangement, but it worked.
On a few more occasions, Gothic had to leave town again for the weekend. He was becoming something of a big wheel down at the repair shop, and was sometimes sent to mechanic conferences out of town. Scarred and Whim took full advantage of these weekends; no time was wasted.
Of course, being with Scarred and then going back home with Gothic meant Whim was often not in the same mood as Gothic. He hadn't been too pleased with this at first, but Whim had forestalled the issue by saying "If your baby's growing inside me, Gothic dear, we don't want to hurt him, now do we?"
Gothic had stopped hounding her about it. Better not to interfere with her "womanly instincts", he had decided. He was becoming increasingly in demand at work, anyway. Sometimes, even he wasn't in the mood.
Everyone was happy, or at least content, until one fateful morning about 42 days later...
***
"HUARGH!" Whim was leaning over the toilet, and it felt like she was puking her guts out. As she vomited again she thought it might be a relief if she did.
"Baby? Whatsamatter?" mumbled Gothic groggily from the other room.
"I think I have a pretty good idea..." Whim gasped, her chest heaving for air, "but I'd better go to the doctor..."
Whim started feeling better soon after that, but Gladys fussed happily over her. She made it quite clear that she was absolutely thrilled that there would soon be the precious pitter-patter of puny paws throughout the house.
"I don't know, Mom," Gothic said, reaching for one of the fresh-baked muffins. "Maybe it was just the mincemeat pies last night."
Gladys slapped his paw away and said "And maybe, Johnny dear, you should offer the soon-to-be-mother of your children a muffin before you scarf them all down."
Gothic rubbed his sore paw, but picked up the plate and held it out to Whim. "Here you go, baby. Or should I say 'babies'..."
Whim smiled and took a muffin. Outwardly, she was nonchalant about the whole thing, acting as if she did not quite believe it yet. But inwardly, she was extremely happy. She was confident that she was expecting... and confident the child wasn't Gothic's.
But when she gave birth, what then? She wouldn't be able to keep up the charade. A choice would have to be made... and she would likely have to pick Gothic...
Whim finished her breakfast, called in sick to work, and made a doctor's appointment for just after lunch. Gladys was a bit miffed that Larry didn't show his excitement, but she dismissed it as him 'not being a morning furson'.
Gothic himself was rather proud, mostly that this proved his manliness. He left for work marching out the door, back straight and chest swelled out. A victorious metal theme blasted from his speakers as he sped to work. In his own way, he was just as excited as Whim.
Gladys absolutely insisted on pampering Whim until it was time for her to leave to her appointment, despite Whim's protest. She baked up a storm and practically stuffed Whim with all sorts of things, saying things like "You're eating for two, now!" and "A healthy mom is a happy mom!". She also gave Whim money for a cab, going so far as to call the cab company for her.
When the cab pulled up outside, Whim hugged and kissed Gladys as she would her own mom, saying "Thank you so much for everything! I'll be going to the library afterwards to start preparing, so have Gothic... Johnny meet me there at the usual time, if you could."
Gladys said "Of course, dear! Oh, you're so smart to think of that... Be careful, okay?"
"I will! Thanks!" Whim said as she got into the cab.
The driver was a bulldog in a porkpie hat, white muscle shirt and plaid pants, chewing on a cigar stub, with an accent that could only be described as "Joisey".
"Where to, miss?" he asked, looking in the review mirror at her.
"Saint Francis hospital, please," she said politely.
"I'll try ta drive carefully, miss." He said, backing smoothly out of the driveway. "Well, more carefully than normal, I mean," he chuckled, his laugh raspy.
Whim chuckled, too. "I'm sure you're an excellent driver."
"Ah, that's kind of ya ta say, miss!" The driver said gruffly, which seemed to be the only way he could speak. "Lotta people don't give me a chance, ya know. Always rude ta me just 'cuz I drives a cab, y'know?"
Whim nodded and said "I'm not surprised. Lots of those businessfurs, always too busy to get off their cell phones or laptops for a second, right?"
"I see ya know what I'm talking about!" the driver said happily, glancing in the rearview mirror as he waited at a red light. "They's all think I must be some sorta lower life-form, sub-literate and barely sentient. But I love my job. See all kinds of interestin' people, places, and I'm not stuck in an office all day, y'know?"
"Yeah, I can see you love your job," Whim commented. The interior of the cab was freshly cleaned and in good repair, looking like new. "Your cab is beautiful."
"Ahh, thanks, miss. Ya got me blushin' now..." the driver said, touching his hat briefly. "I'm always cleanin' her when I got a spare moment, but a lot of furs don't seem to notice, y'know?"
"Blinded by the dollar signs in their eyes, perhaps..." Whim suggested with a smile.
The driver laughed hoarsely again. "Say, that's a good one, miss! Ya wouldn't mind if I used it, would ya?"
Whim blushed a little, pleased. "Oh no, go ahead! It'd be an honor, really."
"The other drivers are gonna love that one," the cabbie said. They pulled up outside the hospital just then, and the cabbie read off the fare.
Whim got out of the cab and handed it to him through his window, including s generous tip. "Thank you very much!" she smiled. "I've rarely had a smoother ride."
The driver blushed and tipped his hat to her. "Thanks again, miss! You's probably the best customer I've ever had! Next time you need a ride, ask for Charlie."
"Will do!" said Whim cheerfully. "And my name is Whim, by the way."
"Pleasure to meets ya, Miss Whim!" Charlie said happily. "Good luck in there!"
"Thanks!" Whim said. She waved as the cab pulled away. What a pleasant conversation...
***
After waiting for a short time, admitted into a room, being asked a series of probing questions by a nurse and giving a urine sample. Whim was being seen by the doctor.
She was a stately raccoon lady, and she flipped through her clipboard, muttering to herself and finally looking at Whim.
"Judging by your own account of what happened this morning, your recent history of sexual activity, and the sample you provided us with, it's safe to say, Miss Whim, that you are indeed pregnant."
Whim let out the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. This was wonderful news! "Thank you, Doctor T!" she said happily.
Doctor T laughed lightly. "Don't thank me yet, I haven't given you the bill!"
Whim and the doctor laughed, and Doctor T said "Well, Miss Whim, I'll recommend a pediatrician and gynecologist for you, as well as some supplements you may wish to take to help maintain good general health. The other doctors will likely have more specific recommendations for you, too. Anything you feel you need to ask me?"
Whim thought for a moment and shook her head. "No, I think that about covers it. Thank you again, doctor! You don't know how happy you've made me!"
The doctor smiled and shook her hand. "See the receptionist before you leave, and she'll take care of the rest. Good luck!"
Whim left the examination room, gave the receptionist her information, and left the hospital. Examining the information the doctor had given her, she could see that the gynecologist she'd been recommended to was in the next town over, which she recognized as Scarred's hometown. What a coincidence!
Whim chose to walk to the grocery store, as it wasn't that far, and the exercise would do her good, anyway. When she arrived, she saw Scarred working at one of the cash registers, waiting for a customer. She waved at him, ad he gestured excitedly for her to come over.
"Hey! It's good to see you!" he said as Whim got close. "What brings you here? Did you have a day off?"
"Sort of," she smiled. "I called in sick."
"Well, what are you doing here, then?" he asked, shaking his head. "You ought to be at home, resting, if you're sick..."
"I didn't SAY I was sick, now did I?" Whim teased.
"But-" Scarred started, confused. "If you're not... oh. Oh!" He laughed as it suddenly clicked for him. "Naughty girl." He whispered, giving Whim a quick kiss on the lips.
Glancing around, Scarred could see that the store was mostly empty, only a few furs pushing carts up and down the aisles.
"I'll see if I can shift some hours around..." he said. "Wait here." Scarred took off for the back of the store, presumably to the manager's office.
Richard had been watching with amusement from his register a few aisles away. He beckoned Whim over and said "Nice to see you again, Whim! It's been a while."
"Nice to see you too, Richard," Whim smiled. "How are things with Tansy?"
Richard put his paws over his heart and smiled. "Oh, they couldn't be better! I still feel like it's our first date every time I see her!"
"That good, huh?" Whim laughed.
Richard nodded. "It's great, really. I still owe Scarred big-time for setting us up. Any ideas?"
"Not that I can think of right now," Whim said, shaking her head. "Unless you got him a year's supply of ramen, maybe?"
Richard laughed. "Hey, that's a good one! I might have to do that!"
"You'd probably get his eternal gratitude," Whim smiled. "I don't know how he can eat that stuff every day, but..."
"That's what I always tell him," Richard agreed. "I guess he's just weird like that, huh?"
Whim nodded and waved as she saw Scarred running back towards them, vaulting over a cart in his excitement.
"Okay!" he said happily as he reached them. "I'm gonna make up the time this weekend, and I get the rest of the afternoon off."
"Lucky jerk," Richard smiled, punching Scarred lightly in the arm.
"That's right, and don't you forget it!" Scarred said, embracing Whim with one arm. "Now, if you'll excuse us..."
Scarred winked at Richard and picked up Whim, much to her surprise. She giggled and waved to Richard as Scarred charged out of the store.
Richard waved back, laughing and shaking his head.
***
"Scarred, I can walk, really..." Whim said for the eleventh time.
"Nope...! I can't... let you... overexert... your poor... sick body..." Scarred responded for the eleventh time as he made his way slowly up the stairs with Whim in his arms. He was sweating quite a bit and he ached something fierce, but he was determined to demonstrate his strength and chivalry.
He was wheezing heavily by the time he opened the door to his apartment, staggered inside, and set Whim gently on the couch. He then proceeded to collapse on the ground, propped up with his back to the couch.
"Are you okay, Scarred?" Whim asked, smiling slightly but worried.
"I'll let you know... when I can... feel my arms..." he said between gasps for air.
Whim waited until Scarred's breathing wasn't quite so harsh and said seductively "That was very manly of you, Scarred... I'll bet you worked up quite a sweat..."
"Why thank you," Scarred purred. "And I am a bit warm, now that you mention it..."
"Actually," said Whim, rubbing Scarred between his ears, "I think you're hot... very, very hot..."
"What would you suggest?" asked Scarred, nuzzling his head into Whim's paws.
"Maybe you should... take off your shirt..." Whim suggested.
"Now there's an idea..." Scarred said. He began to take off his shirt but stopped halfway through, his arms over his head and his shirt bunched up over his face.
"Um... I think my arms are stuck..." he said, groaning slightly.
Whim giggled. "Then let me help you with that shirt..." She yanked it off and threw it to the side, giggling again as she saw Scarred's arms remaining where they had been before.
"You can put your arms down now, silly kitty," Whim said, smiling.
"Um... actually... I don't think I can..." Scarred groaned.
Whim sensed the seriousness in his voice. "Oh, Scarred..." she said, shaking her head. She gently pushed his arms down, Scarred sucking air through clenched teeth, but otherwise vocalizing no sounds of pain.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "Now, where were we...?"
"I'm sure your legs must be really hot too, Scarred..." Whim said seductively. "Maybe you should take those pants off, too...?"
"How smart you are, Whim!" he said, preparing to rise, "I'll just- AAGGH!" Scarred stopped and sat back, panting a little. Putting pressure on his arms had been like sticking them into a fire.
"Scarred! Are you okay?!" Whim asked, alarmed.
"Okay, new plan..." he groaned. "You go home, disappointed, and I'll sit here and hope I can move in the morning..."
Whim shook her head. "No, no, that won't do..." she said. "Just let Nurse Whim fix you up..."
"Ooh, sounds fun...!"Scarred smiled, despite the pain.
Whim lowered her self onto the floor next to Scarred. "Now, lie down, please..." she said.
Scarred leaned forward a bit, and Whim helped him lay spread-eagled face-down on the floor. He tried not to groan too loudly. "Now what?" he queried.
"This..." Whim said. She began to gently massage Scarred's back. She pushed here and rubbed there, working out all the kinks she found.
Scarred just sighed and purred, totally relaxed. All the pain was melting away...
After a while, Whim stopped rubbing. "How did that feel?" she asked.
"Best nurse ever!" mumbled Scarred happily.
"I didn't miss any spots, did I?" Whim asked, gently caressing Scarred's back.
"Well... my butt hurts a little..." Scarred said suggestively.
Whim smiled and got started, saying "Ooh, it's like steel... you must do a lot of exercising..."
"Well, I've got a really good instructor..." Scarred smiled.
"Oh yes? Is that right?"
"Yep. She's got an intensive regimen, but I've never felt better!"
"She sounds absolutely divine..."
Scarred looked at Whim and smiled. "She's a regular angel..."
***
Scarred hadn't quite been back to peak performance, but he'd felt quite well enough to engage Whim in an intensive snuggle session on the sofa.
After a long period of quiet, Whim felt it was time to break the news, both bad and good...
"Scarred?" she said.
"Yeah, Whim?" he responded.
"I've... got something rather important to tell you..." Whim said quietly.
"The price of ramen has gone up?" Scarred joked, then apologized. "Sorry. Go on."
"You know how I really like children...?" Whim asked, beating around the bush a little.
"Er... yeah..." Scarred said, wondering where this was going.
"Well... I'm pregnant..." Whim said and awaited Scarred's reaction.
Scarred just lowered his head and didn't speak for a moment. When he looked up at Whim, there were tears in his eyes. "Whim... that's wonderful!" he said excitedly.
Scarred jumped up from the couch and raced around the room, whooping and yelling. "Wahoo! I'm gonna be a father! The most beautiful girl in the world and the happiest man on the planet are having a baby! Yahoo!"
Whim smiled, but it soon turned sad. So much for the good news. Now she had to share the bad...
"But... there's just one thing, Scarred..." she said quietly, looking away.
Scarred stopped celebrating and sat down next to Whim again. "What's wrong, Whim?" he asked, completely serious and somber.
"I... haven't been... entirely truthful with you..." she said, a tear trickling down her cheek.
Scarred waited, wiping away the tear with his paw.
"Scarred, I- I already have a mate..." Whim sobbed, another tear sliding down her face.
Scarred stopped breathing for a second. His heart forgot to beat. He watched all his hopes for and dreams of a future with Whim wither away.
"I'm sure you hate me now..." Whim said sadly, crying. "I understand..."
Scarred's world and heart started again. "No," he said quietly.
"Wh- what was that?" Whim asked, wiping her eyes.
"I said 'no'," repeated Scarred. "As in 'no, I don't hate you'."
"You- you don't?" Whim sniffled, looking at Scarred.
"No, I don't." Scarred said firmly. "I love you, Whim... more than anybody, more than anything else... I love you... and if that means... I have- have to let you go... then so be it..."
Silent tears trickled down Scarred's cheeks, but he ignored them, wiping away Whim's own.
"I- I love you so much, Scarred-!" Whim choked out. "If only I'd met you first-! I'm so sorry..."
Scarred hugged her close. "Don't be sorry, Whim... Sometimes, we just can't help ourselves..."
Neither of them moved for a while, Whim resting against Scarred's chest, Scarred's head resting on Whim's.
Finally, Whim said quietly, "I never want to leave you, Scarred... there has to be some way... some way we can still see each other... some way you can see our baby..."
"Maybe there is..." Scarred said thoughtfully. "First, tell me all about your mate..."
Whim told Scarred all she knew about John Wolfgang Goethe. She told Scarred of his likes, his dislikes, his personality, his job... The more she talked about him, the more she realized how she really felt about him.
"I mean, he's my mate, sure... but I don't really love him," she finished. "And I don't know if he loves me. I think all we had was some stupid teenage crush... and it's going away..."
Scarred found it rather ironic that a brute like Gothic was named after the venerable German Shepherd poet, but merely nodded as he thought over all this information. "You said he'd probably feel threatened by anyone who might take you away, right?"
Whim nodded. "Yeah. He's always intimidating all the guys I meet, whether they could really be a threat to him or not..."
"You mean, like a physical threat?" Scarred asked, an idea beginning to take form.
"Well, yeah, I guess..." Whim said. She stiffened slightly. "Why? What are you thinking?"
"Well, I'm not all that muscular, really, as I demonstrated so well earlier..." Scarred began, smiling slightly.
"Scarred! Don't even think about fighting him...!" Whim interjected. "I don't want to see you... or him... get hurt!"
"What? No!" Scarred laughed. "'That would just be insane. What I was gonna say was: What if I showed him I'm not an emotional threat, either?"
"How would you propose you do that?" Whim said doubtfully. "I mean, he'll still think there's a slight possibility that we would start liking each other..."
"Easy," Scarred smiled. "I'll just show him I don't like you."
"That wouldn't work," Whim sighed. "Why would he believe you?"
"Because I'm gay!" Scarred laughed.
"You- what?" It was Whim's turn to be confused.
"Well, at least as far as he'll know..." Scarred amended. "Can't possibly steal you away if I don't really want to in the first place, right?"
Whim thought about it for a moment. "You know, Scarred... that might just work..." She kissed him quickly. "You're a genius!"
Scarred blushed. "Oh- well, I don't know about that..."
"But Scarred, how do you plan on making this work?" Whim asked, getting a bit excited about the deception.
"Well, I was kind of hoping you could ask someone a favor..."
***
Scarred and Whim planned out how it would ideally work. To really convince Gothic of Scarred's 'homosexuality', they were going to have to go all the way on it. Someone else had to be brought in, someone willing to pose as Scarred's boyfriend.
Scarred had said "I promised Richard I'd stop even joking about it, so he's out... but we got to get someone cute!"
Whim had laughed. "Do I get to be the judge of that?"
"Well, I guess you can help..." Scarred had smiled.
The main problem, they knew, was finding someone. They couldn't just start pulling strangers from the street and asking if they wanted a boyfriend, as Scarred had put it. They had thought for a while, until Whim had finally stumbled across the solution.
"Of course! Bea!" she'd said suddenly, slamming her paw on her leg. "She's got to know someone who might help us..."
"Oh yeah!" Scarred had nodded. "She's the one who's..."
"Yeah, she's the one," Whim had confirmed. "Ill just have to owe her another favor, I guess," she'd laughed.
So they'd set out for the bookstore, after a bit of making out. Scarred walked a bit stiffly, but he was otherwise fine.
Bea was rather surprised to see them, especially since Whim had called in sick. "Whim? What are you doing here? I thought you were ill!"
"Well, I was... and that's sort of where it all began..." Whim said by way of explanation.
Bea just shook her head. "Okay. Sit down and start from the beginning... You said you were sick...?"
***
"I'm not sure whether to be honored or horrified I'm the first person you thought to ask," Bea shook her head.
"Yeah, I'm sorry..." Whim apologized. "I know you don't really like to..."
"No, it's okay. I understand," Bea smiled. She turned to Scarred. "So, what are you looking for in a boyfriend?"
Scarred out on his gushiest voice. "Well, he's gotta be cute, and handsome, and a good kisser, and like long walks on the beach, and shopping..."
Whim, laughing, punched him in the arm. "C'mon, be serious," she said. "You're actually gonna have to like this guy, y'know."
Scarred dropped the act, laughing and rubbing his arm. "Alright, sorry, Whim." 
He thought for a minute and said. "Well, he shouldn't be able to hit as hard as Whim..." Whim punched him again, and Scarred corrected himself. "Let me rephrase that: He shouldn't be too physically threatening-looking, if you can help it... and sort of timid, I guess... and intelligent would be a plus..."
"Well actually, I think I have the perfect guy in mind..." Bea said after a moment.
"I'll bet he's cute..." Scarred could be heard to say, as if to himself. Bea and Whim just rolled their eyes and tried not to laugh.
"What? What are you looking at me for?" Scarred said innocently. 'I'm listening, go on."
"I'll talk to him tonight, alright?" Bea finished.
"Thanks so much, Bea!" Whim gushed. "You have no idea how much it means to me... I really owe you big this time!"
Bea just smiled. "I just may hold you to it this time!" She shook hands with Scarred, hugged Whim, and watched them leave.
'For you, Whim...' she thought, '...anything it takes.'
***
With nothing else they could do to prepare for the time being, and 7:00 approaching, Scarred and Whim walked to the library, where Gothic would come to pick Whim up. They said their goodbyes and shared a tender kiss.
Scarred lingered for a moment longer before he dropped Whim's paws and headed back to his apartment. It certainly had been an... eventful day. The girl he loved more than life itself was pregnant! But she had a mate... and he would not be averse to pounding Scarred into goo. Well, at least he could still see her!
'For a while, at least... it wouldn't really be fair to whoever Bea sets me up with to just keep him around forever. I couldn't dent him his chance at finding a loving mate himself...'
Scarred sighed. It was all so complicated... but he was going to do whatever he had to do to remain a part Whim's life. And if that meant posing as her platonic gay friend for the rest of his life... so be it.
"Richard's really gonna get a kick out of this!" Scarred smiled.
***
Whim was again treated like a visiting dignitary by Gothic's mother, and Gothic himself was still rather puffed-up about it. At dinner, he told everyone how impressed all the guys at the shop had been. Larry, too, was rather proud of his son, often proclaiming what a man he was.
Whim felt as though she was being treated more as a trophy than a furson around the house, suddenly missing Scarred even more.
'But hopefully, this will work out...' she thought.
Gothic was disappointed that Whim wanted to take it easy from now on, but she had told him it was the doctor's orders, so what could he do? They slept side-by-side that night, one of Gothic's paws placed possessively on Whim's stomach, as if to say "Mine". But Whim knew better...
***
Everyone's mornings proceeded as usual the next day, though the morning sickness reoccurred. Whim called and made an appointment at the OB/GYN office Doctor T had recommended.
When she got to work, relieved to be somewhere everyone would just treat her like a normal person. Bea told her that she'd arranged for "Scarred's date" to meet them at the arcade just after 5:00.
"He doesn't know the full story yet," she explained. "I just told him I had an opportunity for him."
"Thanks again, Bea!" Whim said, smiling widely. "You're a lifesaver!"
"Yeah, I know..." Bea chuckled, a bit embarrassed. "Now get to work or something, would you?"
Whim sketched a salute and did as asked.
***
Richard's face was red and quivering Veins bulged out in his neck as he struggled not to explode. Finally, he could contain it no longer.
"HAHAHAHA!" he laughed hysterically, doubled over "You- you're gonna- oh, this is- this is hilarious!"
"Yes, I gathered that from your reaction," Scarred said, rolling his eyes but smiling.
Richard's laughter subsided to chuckles, then giggles, and finally stopped. He breathed deeply a few times to get his breath back. "Okay... okay..."
"You done now?" Scarred asked, chewing on a donut.
"Yeah... Yeah, I'm done." Richard straightened up, smiling. "So tell me again what the plan was?"
"Well, to show this 'Gothic' guy that I'm not a threat to his... manhood, or whatever..." Scarred began.
"Which, despite all appearances, you apparently are," Richard interjected.
"Apparently. But we figured, Whim and I, that the best way to show him that he doesn't have to beat me senseless for hanging around his mate is for me to act homosexual," Scarred finished.
Richard snickered. "This was your idea, wasn't it?"
"Well... most of it..." Scarred admitted.
"I knew it!" Richard laughed triumphantly. "But you do realize that it just happens to be the perfect opportunity for you, right?"
"Well, yeah..." Scarred said, looking at Richard strangely, "That's kind of the idea..."
"I meant besides the whole 'sneaking around with Whim' thing," Richard said, shaking his head. "I meant it's your chance to live out your secret dreams... you know, experiment like you always wanted to..." He laughed again, unable to help it.
Scarred threw his arm over his eyes dramatically. "Oh, Richard! You've found me out!" he said theatrically. "My dark secret I've kept hidden for so long has come to light...!"
"Oh, you did such a good job of hiding it," Richard tolled his eyes. "It was so hard to figure out..."
"That's why I've always loved you, Richard! You're so intelligent!" Scarred smiled, clasping has paws. He started advancing on Richard. "Give me a big kiss, you manly man!"
Richard backed up a few steps, laughing. "We can't be together, Scarred... Tansy would kill me!"
"Just one kiss!" Scarred said, still advancing. "Don't make me beg!"
Richard laughed and sprinted for the door. "Never will I betray my sweet Tansy!" he bellowed.
Scarred ran after, calling "But Richard! I love you!"
He ran out the door after his friend and screeched to a halt, nearly colliding with him. Richard had stopped, and for good reason.
"Oh, um... good morning, boss!" Scarred gulped. "We were just... getting to work."
Their boss, a silver-furred, late-middle-aged mouse, just shook his head, threw his paws up in surrender and walked past them to his office.
Scarred and Richard watched him go, then took one look at each other and started laughing.
"I guess we'd better actually get to work," Richard said as his laughter died down.
Scarred wiped his eyes, watering from laughing too hard. "Yeah... I guess we'd better..."
The two boys bumped fists and parted ways.
***
Just a little after 5:00 later that day, at the arcade, Scarred was examining his reflection in the screen of a currently out of order game cabinet.
"How's my fur?" he asked the girl standing next to him "Not all sticking up, is it?'
Whim smiled and patted his paw. "Don't worry, Scarred; you look fine."
"Well, I'm just trying to make a good first impression, you know..." he said, smoothing out a tuft of fur. "Do you think I should have worn pink shirt?"
Whim laughed. "I don't think you even have a pink shirt..."
"Yeah, you're right!" Scarred said, sighing. "I should probably get a few..."
Just then, the bell over the door jingled, signaling the arrival of a customer... or a rendezvous.
Scarred and Whim looked over expectantly. In the doorway, looking around timidly, stood a pudgy young rabbit clad in colorful clothes reminiscent of those depicted in centuries-old paintings, large, frilly collar and all.
"You think that's him?" Scarred said, as if he needed to ask. He began waving wildly. "Hey! Over here!"
The rabbit looked relieved and hopped over. "You are Scarred and Whim, I presume?"
They nodded. "And you are...?" Whim asked.
The rabbit bowed elegantly. "Francis William Darington IV, thespian, at your service," he said. His ears flopped down over his head and he blew on them subtly, trying to get them to go back up.
Scarred, to everyone's surprise except his own, grabbed Francis in a huge bear hug. "Isn't he just the cutest, Whim?" he said happily.
Whim couldn't help but laugh. "Sorry, Mr. Darington," she said. "Scarred, you might want to let him go now..."
"Aww, okay..." Scarred said grudgingly, letting go of Francis and stepping back to Whim.
Francis, now that his ribcage wasn't being squeezed, laughed a little, too. "Bea warned me you were fond of hugging, but I didn't think she was being serious..." He smiled.
"You said you were a thespian, Mr. Darington?" Whim inquired politely, one arm around Scarred's chest and a paw over his mouth.
"That's right!" Francis said, his ears perking up visibly. "Thespian extraordinaire, or so I'd to like think. And please, you embarrass me with your respect. You can just call me Francis. 'Mr. Darington' is my father."
"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Francis!" Whim said, removing her paw from Scarred's mouth and offering it to Francis to shake. "My name's Whim, as I'm sure you already figured out..."
Francis elegantly kissed the back of Whim's paw in lieu of a shake. "The pleasure is mine," he said, winking.
"And I'm Scarred!" Scarred piped up now that he could talk. "I'd shake, too, but I don't know if Whim will let me..."
"Only if you promise to behave..." Whim smiled, poking Scarred in his chest.
Scarred rolled his eyes. "Yes, Mom..." he said, winking at Francis.
"Good boy," Whim said, pinching his cheek gently.
Scarred brushed invisible dirt off his clothes, cleared his throat and straightened his back. "It's an honor to meet you, Francis..." he said politely, offering his paw.
To his surprise and Whim's amusement, Scarred found himself pulled by the paw into a hug with Francis.
"The honor is mine, cutie!" Francis said, planting a comical kiss on Scarred's cheek.
Scarred laughed, too. "I like this guy already!" he said, winking at Whim.
After the introductions, the party adjourned, at the behest of Francis, to a nearby park.
As they walked along the paths around the lake, Whim asked Francis about his career. "What play are you working on now, Francis? Something from the Snakespeare era, I should imagine, judging by your outfit."
"Good eye, milady," Francis said, tipping his ears to her respectfully. "We are, in fact, working on an interpretation of his Mothello."
"Ooh, that's a good one," Scarred said appreciatively, chucking a pebble into the pond.
Francis looked strangely at Scarred. "You read Mothello?" he asked, as if he couldn't quite believe it.
Scarred nodded. "I'm not a total buffoon," he smiled, throwing another pebble. "I enjoy a good play as much as... well, maybe more than the next fur."
"I'm sorry for being so quick to judge you," Francis apologized, bowing again. "It's just that- well, you meet a lot of clueless people in my line of work."
"Nah, it's okay!" Scarred smiled. "I know my behavior does not always exactly scream 'intelligent'. I don't blame you."
"But sometimes he does actually scream other things..." Whim smiled.
Scarred puffed up his chest a bit. "Yes, things like 'Free Tibet!' and Watch out for that car, elderly person!', and-"
"And 'Suck laser, alien scum!' and 'Hey ice-cream truck!'..." Whim cut in, laughing.
Scarred looked a bit deflated and Francis laughed.
"So Francis, you like your job, I take it?" Whim asked as Scarred went back to throwing pebbles into the pond.
Francis' eyes sparkled "Oh I absolutely love it! The crowds, the excitement, the drama... it's a feeling like nothing else! So when Bea asked me about this job, I jumped at the chance to put my skills to use!"
"So, wait..." Scarred frowned slightly, confused. "You're just acting, too...?"
Francis laughed lightly. "Well, yes and no... I'm acting like your boyfriend, of course, but I only have to act like I don't already have one!"
Scarred smiled and nodded. "I see... that's pretty cool! Who is he?"
"Scarred!" Whim protested, punching him in the arm. She turned to Francis, saying apologetically "You don't have to answer that, Francis... it's none of our business, really."
"Oh no no! I love to tell people about him!" Francis smiled. His gaze grew distant as he said "Well, he's a literature teacher at the middle school, and..."
Francis proudly described his boyfriend to Whim and Scarred.
Whim nodded as Francis finished. "Well, he sounds like a very nice-"
A sudden angry roar and the splashing of water interrupted her sentence. Rising from the pond was a tall, bikini-clad alligator, looking around angrily.
"Who be throwing rocks at me out here?" the alligator demanded, searching for the perpetrator.
Scarred dropped his pawful of rocks, shaking visibly as he raised his paw. "Um, that was me, sorry..." he said timidly.
"Why would you be throwing rocks at me, hmm?" The alligator demanded of Scarred, marching over to him.
"It was an accident, ma'am..." he said meekly. "I didn't know anyone was down there... Why would I hit such a beautiful lady as yourself?"
The alligator, towering over him, looked down at him and smiled a bit. "You're lucky you're cute," she said gently, shaking a paw under his nose. "But don't do that again... got me?"
Scarred gulped. "Yes ma'am." He nodded. "Sorry ma'am."
The alligator nodded, satisfied, and walked back into the pond, disappearing from view.
Whim and Francis couldn't help but laugh at the sight of the utterly cowed Scarred. His ears were flat against his head, his whiskers drooping and his tail dragging on the ground.
"You're lucky you're cute!" Whim and Francis chimed simultaneously, giggling.
Scarred perked up, smiling once again. "Thanks. I get that a lot."
As the trio continued walking along the path, Scarred trying to find something else to do with his paws, he and Whim explained their story to Francis, detailing the role they would like him to have in it.
When they had caught up to current events, Scarred saying "So then we went to the arcade to meet Bea's friend. He turned out to be a flamboyant rabbit in a funny costume, and-" Whim elbowed him, smiling.
"I think he knows the rest, dear," she said. Turning to Francis, she asked "So? What do you think?"
Francis sniffed. "That's one of the sweetest stories I've ever heard! This 'love' stuff is all so complicated, isn't it?"
Whim nodded sadly, and Scarred asked hopefully "So, you'll help us?"
Francis bowed to the couple. "It will be my honor as a gentleman and a thespian!"
Scarred jumped for joy and wrung Francis' paw. "Wahoo! Thank you so much, Francis! I could kiss you!"
Francis laughed and said "Be careful what you say! You may just have to!"
Even whim was smiling now. Scarred's good mood was catching. Scarred kissed her instead, and they embraced briefly.
"You two are such a cute couple!" Francis said happily.
After Scarred had calmed down a bit, Whim asked, a bit worried, "How are you two going to look like a cute couple, though? I mean, holding paws is no big deal... but what about kissing...?"
"Well, that's another time my thespian skills will come in handy!" Francis said excitedly. "As I'm sure you can imagine, lots of thespians- and their mates- are not always thrilled about who they may have to kiss in any given play..."
Scarred and Whim nodded, listening.
"So," Francis went on, "we rely on the wisdom of our ancestors..." His voice dropped to a dramatic whisper as he continued. "For years without measure, through time immemorial, going all the way back to the first cave-thespians... well, maybe... a secret technique has been handed down... generation to generation... master to students..."
Francis paused for effect, and said "The secret of... The Convincing Kiss!"
Wide-eyed with wonder, Scarred whispered "Wow... how does it work...?"
Francis shook his head. "One can not merely describe The Convincing Kiss, one can not merely hear of it... one must live The Kiss!"
"Oh." Scarred sighed. "Well, how do you propose I go about doing that?"
"Practice, as they say, makes perfect!" Francis said happily. "Now, I wouldn't suggest we do it in the park... People might get kind of weirded out. We should go back to your apartment, Scarred."
"Well, here's something I'd never thought I'd say," smiled Scarred. "Sure, my flamboyant bunny boyfriend! Let's go back to my place and practice kissing!"
"That's the spirit!" laughed Francis.
All three of them exited the park and set off down the sidewalk, Scarred in the middle and holding both Francis' and Whim's paws.
***
"Okay... yes, that's it! Hold it right there! Looks great!" Francis was directing Scarred and Whim in "kissing" practice. "Remember that position, okay? Now let's try it the other way..."
"Scarred!" Whim laughed a second later, pulling her head back. "We're faking it, remember?"
"I'm sorry, Whim..." he said, "you're just so beautiful..."
"Oh, you...!" Whim kissed Scarred briefly on the lips and said "Behave yourself this time, okay?"
"No promises…" smiled Scarred.
Francis just watched and shook his head, bemused. "If you're done, you two, we should be able to squeeze in a bit more practice before Whim has to go."
Scarred cleared his throat. "Okay, I'm ready. Whim?"
Whim nodded confirmation.
"Okay, go for it, then..." Francis said, watching carefully.
Scarred and Whim started like they were going in for a kiss, but paused just before their lips actually met. With their heads tilted at opposite angles and their mouths so close to one another, it was a convincing facsimile of a tender, loving kiss. They closed their eyes and moaned softly deep in their throats as if in pleasure. They even held each other close, like the lovers they were.
"Okay! Excellent!" Francis said happily, clapping his paws. "You two have really got this thing down! I'm impressed."
Scarred was the one to be surprised this time, Whim locking lips with him before he could move.
Francis just laughed and rolled his eyes as the lovers shared a goodbye kiss. "You get anymore convincing and I might start to think you're stealing my boyfriend," he joked.
"I'm sorry, honey bunny," Scarred said remorsefully, "she came on to me..."
"That's right!" Whim laughed. "He was just too cute; I couldn't resist!"
"I can't say I blame you," Francis smiled, shaking his head. "I mean, despite his lack of fashion sense,  he's really something, isn't he?"
"Hey!"  Scarred said indignantly. "What's wrong with my 'Galaxy Invasion' t-shirt? And I'll have you know blue jeans are quite stylish..."
Francis sighed dramatically. "Well, besides the fact that the shirt used to be black, and your jeans have more patches than a quilt... Absolutely nothing."
"Well at least I don't look like a rejected extra from 'Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure'..." retorted Scarred, indicating Francis' play costume.
"Maybe not, but you do look like a reject from the soup kitchen!" Francis snapped right back.
"Well, you're the one cosplaying as a Redwall character in an outfit undoubtedly stolen from some poor theatre troupe!"
"Big words from the fur who hasn't changed his clothes since his parents kicked him out of the house!"
Both Scarred and Francis were right in each other's faces by now, glaring each other down.
"Said the fur who- who, um- the..." Scarred stopped, unable to think of another good insult, and so settling for a childish one. "Pudgy!"
Francis gasped. Placing a paw on his chest, he said indignantly "I am NOT pudgy! I may be slightly unfit, but I am otherwise in shape."
Scarred just smiled and said "I guess 'round' is a shape..."
"That's IT! You're going down, kitty!" Francis jumped at Scarred, but missed as Scarred stepped slightly to the right and took off running.
Francis gave chase, and the apartment filled with the noises of pounding paws, furs banging into walls, Scarred's laughter and Francis' growls. They jumped over the couch several times, raced in and out of the rooms, slid under the kitchen table and sprinted up and down the hallway.
Whim stayed out of the way, laughing at the sights and sounds of the scuffle. How come it was never so funny when Gothic and his friends tussled? Maybe it was because she knew these two weren't actually going to hurt each other, whereas Gothic often came away from his fights with bruises and scrapes.
Scarred came running back into the living room, looking over his shoulder at Francis and sticking his tongue out "I thought rabbits were supposed to be fast!" he was saying. "Not-"
But whatever he was going to say next was cut short as he ran smack-dab into the back of the couch. He bounced off a little and fell to the floor, spread-eagled.
"Vermin! Hairball licker!" Francis was yelling as he bounded into the room, "I shall show you- uh-oh!" He saw Scarred lying prone on the floor but couldn't quite stop in time. He tripped and tumbled, doing a barrel roll right into the wall.
Whim stopped laughing quite quickly. Fear crept into her voice as she called out "Scarred...? Francis...? Are you guys okay...?"
"Peachy..." Scarred wheezed. "...I always wanted to get closer to the stars..."
"Rest assured I'm okay, miss..." Francis groaned. "If only the room would hold still..."
Whim shook her head and helped the two sore, groaning boys onto the couch. "Now boys," she said sternly. "You see what fighting gets you? Hurt. So I want to hear you two apologize to each other before I go, okay?"
They nodded, a bit painfully, and Scarred started first.
"Francis," he said, "I'm sorry for calling you 'pudgy'. It was unkind of me."
Whim nodded. "Thank you, Scarred. Francis?"
Francis cleared his throat and said "Scarred, I'm sorry for insulting your fashion sense. It was unkind of me."
"Thank you, Francis." Whim said solemnly. "Now I want you two to kiss and make up."
Such strange expressions appeared on each boy's face that Whim couldn't keep a straight face, and burst out laughing.
"Okay- hahaha! I was just- ha haha ha! Just kidding-!" Whim doubled over, still laughing, and shook her head. "I'm sorry, but- your faces were just priceless!" She wiped a tear of mirth from her eye.
When she looked up, both boys were blushing, rather embarrassed. Whim waved goodbye as she headed out the door, still snickering to herself.
Scarred and Francis sat in silence for a few minutes, nursing their bruised egos and damaged pride.
"I really am sorry, Francis..." Scarred said apologetically, "That 'pudgy' comment was uncalled-for. I mean, we were just having fun until then, I thought- but I crossed the line..." He held his paw out to shake.
Francis took Scarred's paw and shook solemnly. "I'm sorry, too, Scarred. I... shouldn't have reacted like that. I always say violence is the last resort of the better fur and the first of the lesser, but- I was so quick to be a hypocrite..."
"I understand," Scarred said, smiling a little. "Sometimes, we just can't help ourselves, you know?"
Francis nodded and smiled. "I know what you mean. Like me and chocolate..." He licked his lips as he thought about it. "I see it, and I just have to have some... doesn't matter if it's a Horsey's bar or a box of those Furhareo-Rochers... They certainly don't help with the whole 'pudgy' thing, you know?"
"Oh, come on," Scarred protested. "You're not really-"
"No, no, I really am," Francis insisted, shaking his head. "Deny it as I might to myself, it's true. I'm a chubby bunny."
"Don't be so hard on yourself, Francis," Scarred said comfortingly. "I mean, look at Orson Welles- he wasn't exactly the thinnest guy around, and he was still a respected actor!"
"Wasn't he also a pig?" smiled Francis.
"Admittedly, yes..." Scarred said grudgingly, "But my point is that- wait, let's see... what was my point again...?" he muttered to himself.
"Well, I seem to have forgotten," Scarred admitted after a moment of thought, "But anyway- you don't look as bad as you seem to think you do, okay, Francis? And when people come to see you act, I'm sure they aren't thinking 'Wow that guy's fat!'. They're thinking 'Wow that guy can act!', okay?"
"You- you really mean that?" Francis said after a moment, his voice hopeful.
"Every word," Scarred nodded. "I wouldn't lie to you about this. We're friends after all, aren't we?"
Francis smiled. "Yeah, I guess we are. Thanks, Scarred."
"Friendship hug?" Scarred suggested, smiling.
"Friendship hug!" Francis agreed.
The two boys embraced briefly, each trying not to show how much it hurt their injuries.
They sat back on the couch and sighed.
"No more friendship hugs for a while?" Scarred winced.
"Definitely not," agreed Francis.
"So, soup kitchen reject, huh?" Scarred chuckled. "That was a pretty good one..."
"The 'Redwall cosplayer' remark was a good one, too..." Francis laughed, thinking back on it.
"What a couple we are," Scarred smiled, shaking his head. "The soup-kitchen reject who hasn't changed his clothes since his parents kicked him out of the house…"
"...and the round rabbit obsessed with fruity costumes and history." Francis finished. "Still... I think I've seen stranger..."
"Oh yeah? Who might they be?"
"Well, most just call them 'Beauty and the Geek'... You see, she's a kind, loving, intelligent and gorgeous librarian, but so modest, and he hangs out in arcades and-"
"I think I get the idea," Scarred laughed. "Say... I could go for some ice cream..."
***
After painfully picking themselves up off the couch, Scarred and Francis had walked stiffly down the block a ways to the ice-cream parlor. Scarred had ordered a medium vanilla cone. Francis, after hesitating and with encouragement from Scarred, had ordered three scoops of chocolate on a waffle cone.
"I am going to feel this in the morning," he'd said, shaking his head.
"C'mon, you got to treat yourself every once in a while," Scarred had smiled.
"I think that's how I got this way in the first place," Francis had said, but smiling.
"Hmm..." Scarred mused aloud. "Chocolate and rabbits just seem to go well together..."
Now they were at the apartment again, sitting at the kitchen table and wincing as the muscle stiffness started to settle in for the night.
"So where do you usually stay, Francis?" Scarred asked, rubbing his arm.
"At my boyfriend's place across town," Francis said as he rubbed his neck. "Well- I suppose it's kind of our place, really. Being a teacher's not the most fiscally profitable job in the world, you know, so I do help pay for it..."
"I see..." nodded Scarred. "If you don't mind me asking... where do you get your money, though? I thought you said acting was your job...?"
"Well, I just like to call it that," admitted Francis, "But it doesn't exactly pay well, either. I really live off the money my father's given me..."
"You don't sound too enamored of him," Scarred noted.
Francis scowled and shook his head. "The feeling's mutual... he doesn't approve of what he calls my 'lifestyle choices'... but I'm sure you can guess what that really means..."
"Geez, Francis, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up a sore issue for you..." Scarred winced, apologizing.
"No, it's okay..." Francis sighed. "I'm pretty much over it now. He has only one son and daughter, and I only have a mother and a bank account... But what about your parents, Scarred? Surely they didn't really kick you out of the house?"
Scarred laughed. "No, they were the opposite way, really. They didn't want to let me go after my sister went off to college six hours away. They were always pampering me, trying to give me stuff, stuffing me full of food... whatever it took to keep me around. If it wasn't for my metabolism, I think I would look more like…" Scarred paused, looking for a good comparison.
"Like me?" Francis suggested, smiling.
"No, I wasn't gonna say that!" Scarred shook his head vehemently.
"I'm just kidding, go on..." Francis chuckled.
"Well, anyway, it would certainly have been a lot harder for me to do what I did next..." Scarred continued, smiling at the memory. "I had quite a bit of money saved up from my job at the grocery store in town. My parents didn't even want to let me do that, but I convinced them. So I was planning this for a while, you see. One night, I filled a duffel bag with clothes and a backpack with a pot, some bottles of water, and ramen-"
Francis snorted laughter. "Seriously?" he said, snickering, "you got to be pulling my ear...!"
Scarred smiled and shook his head. "No, I'm serious. No one seems to believe that when I tell them... But anyway, I had my food and clothes and my wallet, everything I thought I'd need to start my new life. I left a note for my parents, telling them not to worry- as if that would work- and that I would write to them from wherever I ended up. I set out, guided by the light of the full moon, taking the first steps on the journey to my new life..."
"It sounds so romantic when you put it that way..." Francis sighed, envisioning the scene.
"Doesn't it?" Scarred laughed. "Just a little bit of exaggeration I allow myself... Any way, I walked down the road for most of the night. Didn't see a single car going either way, and I was alone with my thoughts... You ever done something like that, Francis? Just... go out in the middle of the night and... just be...?"
Francis nodded, wiping a tear from his eye. "I used to do that quite a bit, actually... Back when I was just coming into adolescence, and... Well, never mind that now... Go on with your story, please."
Scarred put a box of tissues in the middle of the table, as he could see they were going to be needed. "Well, it was just before dawn when I reached the edge of the forest, right where it starts becoming farms before you hit the city, you know? And I got this really crazy idea... I don't know where it came from, but it felt so right... I went to the closest farm yard, climbed up into the hayloft of the barn and- and watched the sun rise over the fields..."
Scarred reached for a tissue and wiped the tears from his eyes, seeing Francis was doing the same.
"It was... indescribable, Francis..." he whispered. "Nature's bounty spread out before me... all the red and gold and purple and all the other colors... pink clouds over the green fields..."
Scarred blew his nose and went on. "So I'm sitting up there, tears running down my face, but I just felt... I felt like I had touched Nirvana... All of a sudden, this horse farmer in overalls and a straw hat sits down next to me.  I think he's gonna be angry, you know, but he just says 'Isn't it beautiful, son?' Just like I wasn't a possible thief or vandal trespassing on his property. He offered me a pawkerchief, and I could see he was crying, too..."
"After we sat there for a while and I had stopped crying, I realize I've gotten his pawkerchief all dirty, and say as much. He just shakes his head and says 'I don't mind, son... I've got plenty more.' I say 'I suppose you'd like to know what I'm doing here?' and he smiles a bit. 'The thought had crossed my mind...' he says."
"So I tell him the truth: I was on a journey to make a new life for myself, and I had felt compelled to watch the sunrise. 'Son,' he says, 'that was Mother Nature talking to you... and you did well to listen...' Well, I apologize for trespassing and start to leave, but he stops me. 'I'm sure you didn't eat or sleep last night, right?' he asks. I know what's coming, and I try to say no, but he wouldn't have any of that..."
"Long story short, so to speak, I end up getting a big breakfast from his wife and a place to sleep for however long I want. You can probably imagine what happened... I ended up staying there for about a month, working the farm with them. It was really gratifying work, you know? But I started to feel that pull again, the call of the road... wanderlust, I guess."
"I didn't sneak out this time... I felt too indebted to them, or something, I guess... funny how that works, huh? I can sneak out on my parents, but not those two... anyway, they gave me some fresh fruit and vegetables and a hat to keep the sun off... I still have that around here somewhere... and I set off again. But this time, I had a goal in mind. I was going to get my own place, a job, and live the bachelor life!"
"I arrived in town here later that afternoon and happened to see my friend Richard coming out of the grocery store. He was surprised to see me, of course... my parents had called all around looking for me, and when he just bumped into me like that... So he takes one look at me and says 'Are you crazy?' and I say 'Nope. I've never felt better!'..."
"We get to talking, and I eventually convince him not to call my parents just yet. I tell him all about my plan, and he promises to help me out. He smuggled me into his house, kept me hidden from his parents... You know, things any friend would do..."
"But, there's not much to tell after that, really..." Scarred finished, smiling a little. "I found this place, got a job at the grocery store... and am living the bachelor life!" He laughed a little. "A fifteen-mile journey, and it only took me a month."
Francis had a large pile of crumpled-up tissues in front of him on the table, and his eyes were red. "That was... such a good story, Scarred! I just... I really feel for you..."
"Thanks, Francis..." Scarred said gently. "I don't tell many people the whole story like that... it's pretty personal, I guess..."
"But you told me, a complete stranger?" Francis smiled. "It must not be that personal..."
"Well, honestly, Francis..." Scarred said quietly, "There's just something about you that makes me feel like I can really trust you... even with something as personal as this..."
"Thank you, Scarred..." Francis said, smiling, "That means a lot to me..."
Scarred nodded, and all was quiet for a moment. Then he said "Francis... you want to go do some stargazing...?"
***
They spoke few words as they lay on their backs on the roof, looking up at the cloudless sky.
"It's... majestic..."
"Isn't it? I just feel so... peaceful..."
"All is right with the world..."
***
They went back inside after an unknown amount of time, their souls filled with the peace and wonder of the cosmos.
"I'd better go," Francis said. "Scarred... it's been wonderful, really."
"You'll never get a cab this time of night," Scarred said, shaking his head.
"Then I'll walk, I suppose. Certainly wouldn't hurt me any," Francis smiled.
"No, you're just gonna have to stay here tonight," Scarred said firmly. "I can't let you go anywhere right now."
Seeing that there was no point in arguing the matter any further, Francis sighed. "All right, I'll stay..."
"Good. You get the bed, of course," Scarred said happily.
Francis scoffed. "Oh? And where are you gonna sleep?"
"On the couch, of course..." Scarred said as if it couldn't be any more obvious.
"Ha! That broken-down old thing? You won't be able to sleep a wink, or even move in the morning!"
"Oh, it's not that bad... I'll be just fine. The broken springs feel good after a while, anyway."
"Then let me have it!"
"No way! You're my guest, and more importantly, my friend, and I'll not let you sleep anywhere but the finest accommodations I have to offer. Namely, the bed."
"Well, by that logic: You, too, are my friend, and as a friend, I refuse to let you suffer. So you take the bed."
"Well, it seems we've reached an impasse," Scarred said levelly. "Either no one gets the bed..."
"...or we both do." Francis finished, just as determined as Scarred.
They stared each other down for a minute or two, neither giving any ground, until Scarred dropped his gaze.
"Ok, Francis, you win... because I want you to be comfortable, and because you won't have it any other way... we'll share the bed."
Francis beamed happily. "I knew you'd come around! Don't worry, I don't bite…!"
Scarred smiled and followed Francis into the bedroom. "I usually just sleep in my boxers..." he admitted. "But I can leave my clothes on if it's more comfortable for you, Francis..."
"What, you think I can't control myself?" Francis teased, waving his paw at Scarred. "I'm terribly offended, good sir."
"No, I didn't mean that!" Scarred winced. "I just meant- well, I didn't want it to be... weird for you, is all."
"Really, Scarred... it's okay..." Francis said seriously. "We're both big boys here, aren't we? Just think of it like a sleepover, like when we you were a kitten, if that helps..."
"I'm sorry, Francis," Scarred sighed. "I'm being irrational, I guess. Everything's going to be fine."
"Just remember who you're doing this for... You said yourself you'd do anything for her, right?"
Scarred nodded. "Not just for her... for our baby, too."
"That's the spirit," Francis smiled.
Scarred and Francis were soon in bed and under the covers. Francis, obviously, wasn't too inclined to wear his outfit to bed, so he, too, was boxer-clad. They said good night, and Scarred turned off the bedside lamp. He didn't expect to be able to sleep a wink... but he was out like a lamp soon after his head hit the pillow.
He dreamed that night of his moonlit journey, and the belonging he had felt...
***
Scarred awoke at what seemed to be an unusually early time for him. The fact that he was the only one in the bed wouldn't have been so unusual, either, if he hadn't had a most unusual bedfellow last night.
Moving quietly, though he didn't quite know why he felt the need to do so, or what exactly he hoped to achieve by it, Scarred snuck down the hallway and into the living room. His front door had been propped open with a book, he saw. Ironically enough, the book was a collection of Sherlock Holmes stories, including "The Locked Room".
Now with reason to move stealthily, Scarred slipped out of his apartment door. He sensed a distant breeze and followed it up the stairs to the roof access door. This door, too, was propped open with a book: his copy of Red Dawn. Scarred opened the door and looked around the roof.
Sitting on the eastern edge of the roof, clad in only his boxers, was Francis. The sky was fray with predawn light, though Scarred could see it would not stay that way for much longer.
Scarred smiled, his eyes watering a little, and left just as quietly as he had come. He went back down the stairs, into his apartment, and right to bed, where he happily fell asleep.
***
Scarred awoke again around about his usual time. He was still the only one in the bed, but the smells of cooking permeated the apartment. Scarred had already made up his mind to keep quiet about seeing Francis on the roof that morning. After all, one didn't just raise such personal moments like that lightly.
As he walked to the kitchen, Scarred said loudly "I guess it's true what they say about cooking and-"
He suddenly stopped and backed quickly into the living room. "Geez, Francis! What are you-? Geez!"
"Sorry, Scarred!" Francis called, giggling. "I didn't think you'd want me borrowing your clothes without asking!"
"And you thought I'd prefer to walk into the kitchen and see you in your boxers first thing in the morning?"
"No, but I thought it'd be funny!" Francis laughed.
"You're a sick, sick rabbit, you know that?" Scarred said, laughing a little, too.
"But it's a good thing I'm cute, right?"
Scarred laughed again. "Yeah, that's right. But listen, I'm going to go clean up real quick. Feel free to borrow some of my Salvation Army-reject rags, if you want."
"Will do!" giggled Francis. "Breakfast will be ready by the time you're done."
Scarred headed to the bathroom and cleaned up, only to realize he had forgotten to actually grab clothes for himself. Weighing his options, he finally decided to chance it. He wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped out into his bedroom.
Francis was sitting on the bed in one of Scarred's faded band t-shirts, struggling to button a pair of jeans. He and Scarred stared at each other for a moment, each getting an eyeful.
Then Scarred turned around, blushing. "Whoops, sorry..."
"Scarred, I hate to ask this, but..." Francis began hesitantly. "Do you have any... bigger pants?"
"Oh, um... I think there may be some sweatpants in the bottom drawer..." Scarred said.
"Right... thanks..." Francis said quietly.
Scarred could hear him get off the bed, go over to the dresser, open the drawer and search around. There was the rustle of fabrics, and the drawer closing.
"Thank you again," Francis said, a bit glumly, Scarred thought. 
"I'll just go and- Scarred! What is that on your back?!" Francis suddenly gasped, horrified.
"Wait, what? What do you mean? I can't see it!" Scarred said, craning his neck in a bit of a panic.
Francis took him by the paw and gently pulled. "C'mon, go sit down on the bed so I can get a good look at it..."
Scarred was too worried to even think about protesting, and did as asked. He sat down, with Francis behind him, and awaited further news. "Well? What is it?"
"It's a huge lump..." Francis said gently. "Does it hurt when I touch it?" He asked, prodding it gently.
Agony immediately flared in Scarred's shoulders and back. He cried out in pain, which was all the answer Francis needed.
"Can you lift your arms at all?" Francis asked.
Scarred tried. "I can, but it doesn't feel good," he admitted. His shoulders burned dully.
"Oh, Scarred, I'm so sorry!" Francis apologized, hugging Scarred around his waist, careful to avoid the lump.
"It's okay, Francis, really... I'll be fine..." Scarred insisted, blushing.
"Are you sure? You DID run into the couch... there's no bruises on your chest?" Francis asked, worried.
"No, no. I didn't see anything else," Scarred said, shaking his head.
"Are you sure? I can check for you, I mean..." Francis said, sounding a bit shy even through his worry.
Scarred blushed deeper scarlet. "No, that's alright, Francis... but thanks anyway."
Francis sighed. "Well, you'd better get dressed, I suppose, and come have breakfast. If you feel up to it, that is..."
"Don't worry, I'll be there, okay?" Scarred insisted gently. "And Francis?"
"Yes?"
"You can let go of me now..."
"Oh! Right! Sorry..." Francis dislodged himself from Scarred's back and left the room, glad Scarred couldn't see him blushing.
Scarred sighed again and got dressed.
When he went out to the kitchen, Francis was sitting at the table, doing more playing with his food than eating. As Scarred served himself and sat down, he watched Francis push the same little bit of food around his plate at least seven times.
"This is about the pants, isn't it?" Scarred asked. He couldn't stand the sight of the so-far cheerful thespian so depressed.
Francis just nodded and continued to push his food around.
"Look, I'm sorry I don't have any pink sweatpants, okay? But you know, somehow I never thought I'd need them..." Scarred sighed dramatically.
This at least got a small smile from Francis.
Encouraged, Scarred went on. "I mean really... I think there are enough reasons for everybody to make fun of me, so I decided to skip on those. And I was already in enough trouble as it was, sneaking out of the house... just think how bad it would have been if my parents woke up in the morning to find not only that their son was gone... but he had raided their dresser as well! I don't think they'd have forgiven me so easily, then..."
Francis finally actually laughed and said "I appreciate your efforts to cheer me up, Scarred, I really do, but..."
He sighed. "I've just felt so badly about it for so long that when stuff like this happens... it's just really tough, I guess..."
Scarred decided to try a new tack. Smiling smugly, he shook his head and said "Nope. I'm not convinced. What terrible acting..."
Francis narrowed his eyes at Scarred. "What?"
"You lack passion..." Scarred went on, waving his paw dismissively. "You're just saying the lines. You're not really feeling them."
"Passion? You want passion?!" Francis said angrily, standing up and pounding on the table.
Scarred laughed arrogantly. "Is that supposed to be anger, now? You remind me of a child's attempt at an impression, but less convincing."
Francis pounded on the table again, making the silverware jump. "You don't think I'm ANGRY?!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. "You want PASSION?!"
Scarred went on as if he hadn't heard him. "And that outfit, as well as being highly unfashionable, makes you look terribly-"
"Don't you EVEN say it!" warned Francis, glaring and pointing threateningly at Scarred.
Scarred smiled and said "Pudgy."
Francis practically roared as he leapt across the table, landing right on Scarred and knocking him to the ground.
He sat on Scarred's chest and got right in his face. "Not only am I NOT pudgy, I wouldn't even CARE if I was, because I am a THESPIAN, and a DARN GOOD ONE at that! So you'd better just... SHUT UP!"
Scarred laughed as best he could with Francis sitting on his chest, wheezing slightly.
"WHAT?!" Francis demanded. "WHAT is SO funny?!"
"Gotcha..." chuckled Scarred. "Made you say it..."
Francis stopped, thinking. "Oh." He said quietly, as he realized what Scarred had done.
"Feeling better?" Scarred wheezed, smiling.
Francis chuckled. "Actually, I am... thank you again, Scarred."
"That's... good..." coughed Scarred. "Now... can you... get... off... please...?"
Francis rolled off Scarred, apologizing hastily. "Oh, Scarred! I'm so sorry!" he stood up and offered a paw to Scarred.
Scarred took it and sat up slowly, rubbing his chest. "It's okay..." he said quietly, getting his breath back. 
"I never... thought I... would say this... but, Francis... you take... my breath away..." Scarred smiled, coughing a little.
Francis laughed. "Very funny. Keep talking like that..." he left the threat unfinished.
"And I'll have myself a boyfriend for real?" Scarred suggested.
"Just... watch yourself, that's all I'm saying," Francis chuckled, shaking a paw at Scarred.
Scarred nodded and smiled.
***
After they had finished their breakfast, both Francis and Scarred enjoying themselves to the fullest, Francis had brought up an important point.
"Scarred, you remember all the practicing you did with Whim last night, correct?" he had said.
"Of course. You said we were really good at it, right?" Scarred had nodded, wondering what Francis' point was.
"Well, right. You and Whim were really good at it, but..." Francis sighed, as if it what he was going to say next would be painful. 
"...But we don't know how good you and I are at it..." he finished, wincing slightly in anticipation of Scarred's reaction.
"Oh. Right..." Scarred said slowly, chewing on his lip. "I suppose we'd best practice, then..."
Francis said cheerfully "If it's any consolation, at least one of us will be having fun!"
Scarred smiled a little. "Somehow, your words do not fill me with confidence..."
"Just follow my lead, and you'll be fine, okay?" Francis said gently, patting Scarred's paw.
"Well, you ARE the expert..." Scarred said.
"That's right. And as an expert, I can almost promise you I'll be completely professional..." Francis winked.
"I'm just warning you right now..." Scarred said, "If anything happens... Whim might not be too happy. That's all I'm saying."
"I'll keep that in mind," Francis laughed. "Now, are you ready?"
"Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose."
"Then let's get to work..."
***
"A little to the left..."
"Like this?"
'No, your other left..."
"Oh. Is that better?"
"Yes, that feels right..."
"I thought you said left?"
"Shut up. You know what I meant..."
"Well, I must say this totally doesn't feel gay or anything..."
"Then we're doing it wrong! Maybe we should get closer."
"Learn to sarcasm, Francis..."
"I thought you had a sense of humor?"
"My gaydar must be interfering."
"We'll just have to overload it then I suppose. Hold still."
"No! Wait! I mean- It's okay now, see? Ha ha ha..."
"Well, all right, if you insist...  But enough of that. Let's practice."
"Aww. Do we HAVE to?" 
"Just a few more times, you big baby."
"Fine. Let's do this thing."
***
"Well... that wasn't SO bad, I suppose," Scarred grudgingly admitted. "I wouldn't want to do it all the time, though."
"Oh, I don't know..." Francis teased. "You might change your mind someday!"
"I also might want to skydive without a parachute someday," Scarred said, rolling his eyes.
"All I'm saying is: keep your options open," Francis laughed.  "If it doesn't work out with Whim, you can always look me up. I can set you up with a cute guy... or something..."
"Oh, well thank you for that generous offer," Scarred said sarcastically.
"Anytime, cutie.!" Francis winked. "Now, don't you have to get to work?" 
"Yeah, I'd better go," sighed Scarred. "See you later."
"I'll clean up before I go," Francis offered.
"You don't have to do that..." Scarred said, shaking his head.
"No, it's my mess. Don't you worry about it. Now go, before you're late," Francis said firmly.
"All right, fine," Scarred said, opening the door. He turned to look at Francis and said "Francis... thank you..."
Francis smiled and nodded, and Scarred left.
***
After work that evening, as they sat cuddling on the couch, Whim said to Scarred "So, how was your date with Francis last night?"
Scarred sucked air through his teeth. "Yeah... well you see, Whim... that kind of brings up something I wanted to talk to you about..."
"You sound guilty..." Whim smiled.
"You know I love you, right...?" Scarred said reassuringly.
"Yes, so you say... Scarred, what's all this about?" Whim asked, slightly worried.
"Well- Aw, heck. I just may as well come out with it, I suppose..." Scarred sighed. 
"Scarred..." Whim said, slightly annoyed and worried.
"Whim, being with Francis last night made me realize something... I've spent all day thinking about it, and I've decided it's an incontrovertible truth..."
"Scarred, would you please just get ON with it?" Whim was definitely more annoyed now, though she looked concerned.
"Okay, here it is. Whim," Scarred said, looking her in the eyes, "I- I love you way more than boys."
Whim laughed and punched Scarred in the arm lightly. "Oh you! You're such a smooth talker!" she hugged him, snuggling against his chest. "You almost had me worried there for a few seconds..."
"Almost? Is it really that easy to believe I might be homosexual?" Scarred asked, shaking his head. "Maybe I should get a leather jacket, or- a motorcycle, or... start worshipping Satan or something..."
Whim laughed again. "I think it's just your loveable personality," she said. "You're just so much fun to be around. All the girls want you, all the guys also want you..."
Scarred laughed, too. "Let's hope so... Though I have yet to see evidence of any powers of female magnetism I may possess."
"Well, something certainly drew me to you," Whim said. "After all, I came back to meet you in the arcade again, didn't I?"
"Well, it could just have-" Scarred began, then stopped. "No, never mind. That one's a bit harsh."
"What?" Whim asked, curious. "What exactly were you going to say?"
Scarred shook his head. "Nope, I'm not going to say. They were harsh words unfit for the ears of any lady, much less one as sophisticated and lovely as yourself."
"C'mon... you can tell me. I can take it," Whim pleaded.
"Nope. You can't make me," Scarred said stubbornly. "I'll not insult you like that, milady."
"Fine, then." Whim said casually. "I guess I'll just have to call Francis and tell him you changed your mind."
"Wait- what?" Scarred said, looking worried. "What do you mean by that?"
Whim started walking to the kitchen. "I'm just gonna tell him you changed your mind about me, and females in general. I'm sure he'll be more than willing to help... accommodate you to your new lifestyle..." She turned the corner and disappeared from view.
Scarred paled. "What- no! Wait! Whim-!" he jumped off the couch and ran after her. "I'll tell you! I'll tell you anything you want to hear! Just don't call...!"
As he turned the corner, he ran right into Whim's arms. She kissed him on the lips and said "Gotcha."
Scarred began to laugh, relieved and amused, and Whim joined him. They went back to the couch together and sat down to snuggle again.
"Okay, Whim," Scarred admitted, "The first thing that had popped into my head- and what I was going to say- was 'Well, it could just have been your cheap nature bringing you back', but that wasn't really funny at all, you see. So  I kept my mouth shut."
Whim nodded. "I see. Thank you for having the courtesy not to say that, Scarred."
Scarred smiled. "I love you far too much to be so mean to you."
"Good, I should hope so," Whim grinned. "But why didn't you just tell me in the first place, silly?"
"It's fun to tease you," Scarred grinned. "After all, if you can't tease your friends, who can you tease?"
"I guess you're right," Whim laughed. "That's what friends are for. Now... let me show you what girlfriends are for..."
Their lips met, and Scarred saw.
***
Scarred, Whim, and Francis had the opportunity to put their plan into action a few days later. It was the day of Whim's OB/GYN appointment, and although it wasn't strictly necessary for Scarred to come along, he wanted to be sure Whim and the baby were going to be alright.
Gothic was the one who was going to give them all a ride. He had been told by Whim that a couple of her friends had wanted to come along and give her their support. He had rolled his eyes and sighed, but agreed. He figured it was just another one of those "women things". What Whim "accidentally" hadn't told him was that these friends were not women, but...
"Those two?" Gothic asked as he pulled up outside Scarred's apartment, staring at Whim. "They're the friends I'm supposed to bring? But- they're guys..." he said as if Whim hadn't noticed.
"I know, aren't they such a cute couple?" Whim said merrily, waving Scarred and Francis over.
"What reason could they possibly have for coming with us?" Gothic asked, confused and a bit miffed.
"I'll let them tell you themselves- Hey you two!" Whim said as Scarred and Francis skipped up to them, paw in paw.
"Hey girlfriend!" They said in unison, using affected accents.
"Oh, this must be the man you're always talking about!" Scarred said, looking towards Gothic.
"He's even better-looking than you said!" Added Francis, giggling.
Gothic was clenching both the steering wheel and his teeth, staring straight ahead. Whim elbowed him covertly, and he took a deep breath, turned to Scarred and Francis, and stuck out his paw to shake. "The name's Gothic. How do you do?" he said politely, if with restraint.
Scarred and Francis blushed and took turns shaking his paw and introducing themselves. They used their real names, as it was less complicated for everyone involved that way. They climbed in to the backseat afterwards and Gothic drove off, concentrating fiercely on the road ahead.
Whim and Scarred and Francis all chatted merrily with one another as Gothic drove, and Whim eventually said "So, you two, I mentioned to Gothic earlier that you two had plans of your own. Do you mind sharing with us?"
This was Scarred and Francis' cue to start the story they had prepared.
"Well, since we both really love children-" Scarred began.
"-But we can't have our own, obviously, we thought we'd like to adopt one-" Francis continued.
"-But we had also heard about surrogate mothers, so we thought we should do some research on both topics-"
"-And Whim graciously offered to let us tag along and experience some of the things a woman has to go through when she's pregnant-"
"-So we could see what it's like for the mother before we made our choice," Scarred finished.
"Some first-paw research, so to speak," added Francis.
"I knew you wouldn't mind terribly," Whim said, buttering Gothic up, "since we both believe everybody should be able to experience the joys of children, in one way or another."
Gothic was silent for a moment, then sighed. "I don't mind, on the condition that you two don't get too involved. If I hear either of my babies complain, you can consider your privileges revoked... and I will enforce that any way I have to..."
"Oh, of course, of course," Scarred said reassuringly. "We have nothing but respect for Whim and you. We wouldn't want to cause you any trouble..."
"Good." Gothic said grudgingly "Then... I suppose you two can stick around... for the time being..."
Scarred and Francis cheered and embraced as best they could while wearing seatbelts, and Whim kissed Gothic on the cheek and whispered "Thank you, Gothic dear..."
"Anything for you, baby..." he said, squeezing her paw.
At the doctor's office, Scarred and Francis made sure to act very interested in the women's magazines in the waiting room, whispering and acting surprised and occasionally giggling quietly. Gothic sat in a chair on the other side of the room, a vein throbbing in his forehead as he repeatedly clutched and squeezed the arms of the chair, staring straight ahead like a statue.
Whim was given a clean bill of health and some recommendations for supplements that they could pick up at the pharmacy in town. As they drove through town, Scarred pointed out some of the places he recognized, including his house.
The pharmacy happened to share a building with the grocery store where scarred used to work. All four went in together, Scarred to greet some old friends and acquaintances, with Francis to accompany him, and Gothic and Whim to pick up what the doctor ordered.
Francis ended up buying some chocolate, not feeling even a bit guilty about it, thanks to Scarred. The two looked for all the world just as happy a couple as Gothic and Whim. Some of the stares they got were confused or displeased, which amused them to no end, and some furs even looked happy for them.
Scarred's old coworkers didn't seem too surprised at who he was with or the way he acted, as if they had always suspected it was just a matter of time. One, a chirpy sparrow by the name of Rose, even came up and told Scarred how happy she was that he had "finally come out", as she put it.
"Between you and me, I'm still kind of 'in the closet' about it," she'd whispered, looking around, "but I'm really happy for you!"
Scarred had laughed and blushed. "Yeah, well I guess leaving home can make you do crazy things, huh?"
Of course, all this amused Francis greatly, though he saved the ammunition for another time. Scarred, too, was rather amused. It was pretty much the greatest prank he'd ever pulled on them all, and they didn't even know it yet.
"Besides," he explained to Whim later on, when they were alone together for a few minutes, "How often do I come back here? They can all think what they want; I've got the most beautiful girl in the world..."
Eventually, they had all piled back into Gothic's car and headed home, satisfied. The plan was working, Whim was doing fine, Scarred had his old friends fooled, and Francis had chocolate.
Scarred and Francis got to put their practice to good use when they arrived back home. They'd dropped Francis off at the community theatre, at his request, and so Scarred took this opportunity to strengthen the image of them as a couple and gave Francis a long "kiss" goodbye.
Whim had watched, amused, and Gothic had rolled his eyes, gritting his teeth and looking away. After that, they had continued on to Scarred's apartment to drop him off, presumably "to start dinner", leaving Gothic and Whim free to go home and relax.
When Scarred lay down to sleep that night, he once again dreamed of his journey from home. What did it all mean...?
***
One night a week after the group's trip to the doctor's office, Scarred received a telephone call from out of the blue. This was a rare occurrence, indeed, so he hastened to answer.
"Hello?" He greeted as he held the receiver to his ear.
"Scarred... why didn't you tell us?" The voice on the other end sighed.
"Mom? What are you talking about?" Scarred asked. He didn't know what confused him more: his parents calling, or what his mother had asked.
"It's okay, Scarred, you don't have to hide it from us..." Scarred's mother said reassuringly.
"Hide what, Mom? I have no idea what you're talking about!" Scarred said, a bit annoyed.
"You could have just told us you were gay, Scarred. We wouldn't have loved you any less."
"Gay? What are you-?" Suddenly Scarred remembered. Word must have gotten to his parents about his apparent 'partnership'.
"Oh, right!" Scarred laughed. "Yeah, that- that wasn't what it looked like, Mom, don't worry."
His mom sighed down the line. "Really, Scarred, we're fine with it. We just wish you would have told us, instead of letting us hear it through the grapevine..."
Scarred sighed to himself and rubbed his forehead. "Mom, listen... It's a more complicated situation than you think, okay? I-"
"Then you're bisexual?" His mom cut in. "We're fine with that, too, honey..."
Scarred considered bashing his head against the wall a few times before he said "That's... not what I meant, Mom."
"Then what is this all about, Scarred? Are you confused? Do you need help?" His mother asked, concern evident in her voice.
"I'd love to explain it to you, Mom, really... but I can't right now... You're just gonna have to trust me. Please." Scarred pleaded.
A moment of silence. Then another sigh from the other end and "We'll trust you for now, Scarred... but please, whenever you can... explain this whole 'situation' of yours to us..."
"Thank you. I'll do my best, Mom... Tell Dad I love him," Scarred said gently. "And I love you..."
"We love you too, son... goodbye."
"Bye, Mom..."
Scarred hung up the phone and sank down in a chair. He felt guilty about not being able to explain it to his parents, but... the less people knew, the better. 
Cradling his head in his paws, Scarred sighed and thought about the dream. 'I've been having it every single night, now... but why?'
Scarred thought that maybe he knew the answer... but just wasn't ready to face it.
***
Another seven weeks passed by without major incident.
Whim was starting to show, her morning sickness had vanished, and she was more thrilled with each passing day. She also found herself enjoying Scarred's company more and more in the time they could steal to spend together.
Gothic remained proud and protective of his mate, often strutting around with a very boastful attitude. His work at the repair shop had him primed for another promotion, too, and he was considering soon moving Whim and himself into their own place.
Francis had been starring in his theatre troupe's adaptation of Mothello and receiving rave reviews. He was happier and rounder than he'd ever been, oft receiving chocolates from his fans once they'd found out his affinity for them. His boyfriend the literature teacher helped keep him down-to-earth, often borrowing material from Scarred.
Scarred continued to dream of the journey, but had gotten pretty used to it by now. No one he had talked to could find any more meaning in it than the obvious, and so he didn't worry. He cherished every stolen moment with Whim, caring for her and the life growing inside her. He had received a pay raise at work, and so had more money to squirrel away each month. His "relationship" with Francis continued to fool everyone it needed to, and they had definitively become best friends.
Richard and Tansy were going strong, rarely seen in public without one another. Richard still swore he was going to pay back Scarred that favor one of these days. He and Tansy had a place of their own not too far from the grocery store, and Tansy kept the flower-boxes on the windows in full bloom.
Bea was single "but looking", as she said when asked, and always amused at the antics of Scarred and Francis. Her main passion was the bookstore, and it flourished under her attention, something that did not go unnoticed by her superiors...
Larry was getting along much better with his son. They talked more and fought less, acting more like friends than rivals.
Gladys was a very happy grandmother-to-be indeed, pampering Whim as much as she was allowed and knitting little outfits for the baby. She was glad that "her two boys" were getting along, too, and pampered Gothic nearly as much as Whim.
Scarred's parents called every week "just to check", but Scarred hadn't yet told them. They had no choice but to continue to trust their son, and so they did.
Everyone was happy. Everybody had their passions. Everything seemed perfect...
And then it happened.
***
It was a dark and stormy Saturday night... but Whim and Scarred were warm under the covers. They hadn't done much but cuddle yet, but they were working their way up to it. Gothic was out of town for the weekend, and they had all night...
"Our baby's going to be so cute..." Scarred sighed happily, gently caressing Whim's stomach.
"I know... have you thought of any names yet? I know it's a bit early, but..." Whim wondered, placing her paw on top of Scarred's. "Gothic's set on calling him 'Sid' if he's a boy..."
"As in 'Sid Vicious'? Of 'The Sex Pistols'?" Scarred said, bemused.
"Yeah..." Whim said, rolling her eyes. "He's stumped on what we should name it if it turns out to be a girl, though. I told him I'd think of one, but... I'd rather use yours, if you have one..."
"Aww, that's sweet of you..." smiled Scarred, kissing Whim's cheek. "Actually, I do have one... now, you might laugh, but I swear: it came to me in a dream..."
Whim smiled. "That's actually quite sweet, Scarred... what is it?"
"Tarel," said Scarred. "I heard it in a dream, and I thought... it was somehow perfect..."
"Tarel..." Whim repeated softly, trying it out. "Tarel... I rather like it, Scarred... It does seem perfect..."
Scarred blushed. "Aww, you really think so? I-" but whatever he was going to say next was lost in the sound of a crash that was definitely not thunder.
Scarred sat bolt upright in the bed. "It's started..." he whispered, as if to himself.
"Scarred? What's started? What's going on?" Whim asked fearfully, clutching the blanket to her chest.
Under the sound of the rain hitting the windows. A rumbling could be heard, coming from inside the building and growing in volume.
Scarred had scrambled out of bed and was down on the floor, rooting around underneath the bed.
"Scarred? Answer me! What's happening?" Whim demanded, standing up and moving over to Scarred.
The rumbling continued to grow louder... and closer.
Scarred apparently had found what he was searching for, and set them on the bed. Moving quickly, he opened the window, letting the rain in, and started affixing something to the sill.
"Whim!" he said as he worked. "We don't have much time! You're going to have to take those things and go!"
Whim stared dumbly at the "things" Scarred had indicated.  A backpack, a straw hat, and a rain poncho...?
"Scarred, what-?" Whim began to ask, uncomprehending.
Scarred turned around and grabbed her by the shoulders. Staring into her eyes, his own filled with tears, he said "Whim, you have to trust me on this... just do what I say."
He paused briefly as a single tear rolled down his cheek. "Whim... I love you..."
Scarred and Whim kissed quickly, passionately... and for the last time.
Even as the rumbling distinguished itself into a series of quick, small crashes, Whim said "I love you, too, Scarred..."
She slipped her arms through the backpack's straps and pulled the rain poncho over her head, covering both herself and the backpack. Moving to the window, she could see a rope ladder had been affixed to the sill.
Whim and Scarred shared one last loving look... and Whim began her climb down.
***
'These are the final minutes of my life...' thought Scarred as the rumbling culminated in another huge crash. 'That was probably the front door...'
Scarred felt oddly calm. He had expected to go out the way he came in: naked, wet, and screaming. But he felt no fear, only a sadness that he would never see his child grow up, never show Whim his love again...
'But at least I'm wearing boxers...' he thought. It brought a little smile to his face.
He had closed the window and was sitting on the edge of the bed as the bedroom door crashed open and into the wall, brutally propelled by a foot.
Scarred looked up into the wild, snarling face of his demise. "Mr. Goethe... we can talk about this..." he said calmly.
John Wolfgang Goethe glared down at him, his canine teeth long and sharp. In his right paw, he clutched a large pipe wrench the length of his forearm. His wet shirt clung tightly to his muscular chest as it heaved like a bellows. But this bellows fueled only his rage.
He swung the wrench down at Scarred's skull, putting his considerable muscle into it.
Scarred brought his arm up to block, and the bones of his right forearm shattered like glass as the wrench made contact. He sucked air through his teeth but did not cry out.
Scarred tried again. "Please... Mr. Goethe... this isn't necessary..."
"Necessary?!" roared Gothic. "YOU'RE going to tell ME what's necessary?!" He swung the wrench again, shattering Scarred's upper right arm.
"I just want to talk..." groaned Scarred "before you decide what you should do..." His arm was dangling uselessly at his side, bleeding in several places where bones poked through his skin.
"What I should do is KILL YOU!" Gothic yelled, shattering Scarred's left paw with another swing of his wrench.
"At least... listen first..." begged Scarred, his eyes watering in pain. "I'm not... going anywhere..."
"Fine..." spat Gothic. "Talk."
"Under the bed... there's an envelope..." Scarred said, closing his eyes against the pain. "Inside... you'll find one-thousand dollars... to leave Whim alone..."
"A thousand dollars? To leave Whim alone?" Gothic growled, narrowing his eyes at Scarred.
"It was all... all I could spare..." Scarred tried to chuckle.
"Well, isn't that noble of you..." sneered Gothic. "Trying to make up for stealing my woman away from me?"
When Scarred didn't answer, Gothic went on. "Yeah, that's right. I figured out your little plan. You were the cute, innocent little gayboy, pretending to be all the girls' best friend, when really you were sucking up to them, trying to get into their pants... I wouldn't have thought Whim would actually be stupid enough to fall for that, but... there you go." He spat on the floor, disgusted.
"You... take that back..." Scarred said glaring at Gothic.
Gothic barked laughter. "What are you gonna do? Bleed on me? You sure are quick to stand up for that whore... Not that you'll be standing anytime soon!" Gothic stomped with all his might on one of Scarred's feet, leaving it crushed and bloodied.
"You just... shut up..." Scarred said between labored breaths. "Whim is... a far better... furson than... you could ever... hope to be..."
Scarred closed his eyes again. "I'm glad... she won't... be here... to see me... resort to this..."
Suddenly, his tail lashed out at Gothic, cutting him across the torso, and then again, cutting is arm.
Alarmed, Gothic stepped back, out of range, and tried to determine what had just happened. Looking carefully, he saw what had happened: the tip of Scarred's tail had been covered in razor blades!
Scarred opened his eyes and grinned slightly. "Try again?"
Enraged, Gothic charged forward. Ignoring the razor blades tracing hot lines across his chest, he grabbed Scarred's tail... and bit down. His vicious teeth sawed through Scarred's tail quickly, severing it in two places.
Rendered defenseless, Scarred winced as his tail jerked spasmodically and then lay still. "I'm sorry, Whim..." he whispered, a tear leaking from his eye.
"Did you really think that would stop me?!" laughed Gothic.
"No..." admitted Scarred, grinning slightly, "but it was... kind of cool..."
Gothic smacked Scarred across the face. Scarred's snapped to the side and blood flew from his mouth.
"Now, you're going to be a good boy and tell me where my mate is, so I can drag her stupid butt home and give her a lesson in faithfulness..." Gothic said, squatting down to look Scarred in the face.
Scarred spat blood at Gothic. "Choke on... a hairball..."
Gothic, glaring, wiped the blood from his face, stood up and smacked Scarred across the face again, this time from the other direction.
"I don't think you heard me correctly..." he growled. "I asked you where you hid my mate!"
Blood trickling from the corners of his mouth, slurring his speech, Scarred said defiantly "She's gone... far away... by now... you'll not... find her again..."
Gothic yelled a number of unprintable epithets and threats into Scarred's face, but to no effect. Scarred would reveal nothing, not even the fact that even he didn't know where she was heading.
'The longer he spends here, the farther away I hope she is...' Scarred thought. 'She's resourceful... she'll find a way out...'
Finally, Gothic resorted to torture. "I'm gonna break every bone I can find in your body... sometimes twice. You WILL scream, and you WILL tell me where she is... and then I'll kill you quickly."
Scarred chuckled and grinned. "Do it... you... you..."
"What? What more could you possibly have to say to me? What will be your last pitiful act of defiance before I break you?" Gothic mocked, laughing cruelly.
Scarred's grin grew wider. He said "Nerd..."
With an enraged howl, Gothic set about Scarred with the pipe wrench, screaming at him to talk after every swing. He broke shins, shattered femurs, pulverized kneecaps, and didn't stop there.
The world was naught but white-hot agony for Scarred, but after a while he transcended the pain, watching disinterestedly as his body was utterly broken. He kept laughing, just to see the reactions on Gothic's face when all his brute strength got him nowhere.
After an unknown time, when Scarred had finally stopped laughing, Gothic left. His anger burned like the sun; anger at his failure to break Scarred's spirit, anger at his mate for her unfaithfulness, anger at the world for his unfair plight. Anger carried him home that night, and anger would burn in him forevermore.
***
All was quiet. Scarred looked around at his room. His body, mangled and broken, lay in a spreading pool of blood on the bed, limbs broken in several places, bone shards poking through the skin, a nearly unrecognizable figure. His face had been relatively untouched, normal except for the blood leaking from his mouth and the bruises on his cheeks.
Scarred left the bedroom, moving silently down the hallway. The phone rang unanswered in the kitchen, dishes from supper were stacked near the sink, and the flowers in their vase on the table remained undisturbed. The front door hung crookedly by one hinge, there was a large hole in the plaster, broken by the doorknob, and a few books still sat placidly on the living room couch.
Scarred swung by the bathroom briefly on his way back to the bedroom. Sure enough, the mirror showed no sign of him, reflecting merely upon the shower curtains behind him.
When he arrived back in the bedroom, his body's eyes were open, staring at the ceiling. Scarred sat down on the edge of the bed to wait.
"Hey... over here..." he said.
His body turned its head towards him. "Awesome..." it said shakily, "I'm... a ghost?"
Scarred thought about this for a moment, then shook his head. "No, not quite. I think I'm just a hallucination you're having as kind of a segue into... whatever happens next."
"Oh..." his body said, coughing weakly. "That's... cool, too..."
Scarred nodded, smiling.
"We... did good... huh...?" His body breathed.
"We did very good," Scarred agreed. "So... any last thoughts? Any dying words?"
"I hope... there's ramen..." his body tried to laugh.
A white light appeared on the wall in front of Scarred, giving the impression of a tunnel. "Well, I guess this is it," he said, standing up. "Maybe our life was short, but it was fun!"
His body closed its eyes, then slowly opened them again. "Yeah... I got... to... love... Whim..."
Scarred's body closed its eyes again and did not open them. His chest stopped moving, and his heart ceased its functions.
Scarred stepped into the tunnel of light and smiled. He had found that peace he had touched once before.
Death. The final journey.
***
Whim was fleeing into the night. The rain pounded and the winds gusted, lightning cleaved the sky and thunder bombarded her ears. She did not run blindly, though visibility was limited. Whim ran the only place she felt she could go, a sanctuary of comfort where knowledge and money traded paws.
Whim ran to the bookstore.
When she literally burst through the front doors, every eye in the place was instantly upon her. What a sight she must have made, she would later reflect, as she sprinted, wet and screaming, all the way through the bookstore and into the back room.
Bea was sitting at her desk, doing some paperwork, when her door slammed open and in ran Whim in a soaking-wet rain poncho. "Whim? What are you-?" she asked, alarmed, standing from her chair.
"Bea!" wailed Whim piteously as she ran and embraced her. "Call the police! Call the police!"
Bea held Whim at arm's length. "Whim! Calm down! What are you talking about? What's happened?"
Whim sobbed and gasped for breath. "I don't know what's happened! That's why you have to call! Now!"
"Whim! What would I tell them? Calm down and think, please!" Bea said firmly.
"Okay... okay..." Whim sniffled. "We... we were at Scarred's house... when we heard... crashes..."
"Okay, good. That's good, go on..." Bea said comfortingly.
"Scarred told me... to take the things and run... he wouldn't say anything else..." Whim said in between unsteady breaths. "I climbed... out the window... and ran..."
"And then what happened? Do you know?" Bea asked soothingly.
"No! I don't know!" Whim sobbed raggedly. "Call the police! Please!"
"I will, I will... just breathe, please... calm down and breathe..."
Bea picked up the phone and dialed the emergency number, then handed Whim a box of tissues.
"Hello? Emergency services," the voice on the other end of the phone said. "What is the nature of your emergency?"
"I need to report a... disturbance at..." Bea covered the mouthpiece and looked to Whim. "What's the address?"
"742 Maple," Whim managed to say, "Apartment 3D..."
"At seven-forty-two Maple Street, Apartment three-dee," Bea finished, enunciating clearly.
"What seems to be the problem, ma'am?" The operator asked calmly.
Bea only needed to look at Whim's eyes to know the truth. "There has been a murder." She hung up.
Whim was curled up on the floor, rocking back and forth, tears running down her cheeks.
"C'mon..." Bea said gently. "Let's get you out of that wet thing..." She took Whim by the paws and practically dragged her up. Bea took the rain poncho off the unmoving Whim as a mother might from a stubborn child. Whim was wearing naught but her undergarments underneath, due to her hasty departure.
Whim showed no signs of responding, standing stiffly and staring straight ahead but far away as tears rolled down her cheeks.
Bea had to blink back tears herself as she took her friend into her arms and sat down. "Shh... shh... it's okay, Whim... you're fine... you're going to be alright... the baby's going to be alright..."
Whim clung to Bea and wept into her chest, wetting her shirt, as Bea continued to comfort her, rocking her back and forth and whispering to her.
They stayed that way for quite a while, until Whim could cry no more tears and her nose stopped running. She slowly sat up of her own accord and looked to Bea, her eyes red and cheeks tearstained.
"Thank you, Bea..." Whim said quietly.
Bea nodded solemnly. "You're welcome, Whim..."
"What do I do now?" asked Whim hollowly, staring at the ground. "Where can I go?"
"Now, you get away from here, Whim. I'll call you a cab, and you just go home," Bea said.
"Home... My home is with Gothic... but I don't think I can go back now..." Whim shook her head. "He'll know something is wrong... and I'll have to explain... and I don't think I can do that..."
"Then go back to your parents' house," Bea suggested, "Call him from there and yell him you're staying there for a few days because of... family issues, or something..."
"Yes... that sounds good..." Whim said slowly, nodding. "I'll do that... thank you, Bea..."
"Anything for my best girlfriend," Bea smiled, trying to cheer Whim up a little. "I'll go get you a spare uniform, okay? It might be a bit weird if you show up at your parents' house in just your undergarments..."
Whim managed a small smile, and Bea left the room, closing the door to protect Whim's privacy. She as she made her way to the stockroom, a commotion towards the front of the store caught her eye.
"Excuse me, sir, you can't just-" A quiet-spoken young sales assistant was protesting, before being pushed rudely out of the way into a bookshelf.
Gothic, wet and unhappy-looking, was striding through the store, pushing down or through anyone in his way. He marched right up to Bea and asked "You... you're one of my mate Whim's friends, aren't you?"
Bea sensed something wasn't quite right with Gothic, and acted accordingly. "Why yes, I am. What can I do for you? Does she need help with something?" she said innocently.
"I was planning to be out of town this weekend, but... my plans changed. I was told she was sleeping over at one of her friend's houses... You wouldn't happen to know where she is, would you?" Something in Gothic's voice carried an undercurrent of menace.
Still acting innocent, Bea shook her head. "No, I'm afraid I don't, sorry... If I see her, I'll let her know you were looking for her, okay?"
Gothic glared at her for just a second too long to be comfortable before saying "Fine. Thank you." As he turned on his heel and marched out of the bookstore.
Bea hadn't missed the bloody scratches on his torso, nor the smell of recent aggression around him. Slightly shaken, she continued on to the storeroom, where she gathered up a uniform for Whim, and then returned to her office.
As she handed Whim the clothes, Bea said quietly "Gothic was just in here, looking for you..."
"Did... did you tell him I was here...?" Whim asked, a bit of fear creeping into her voice.
Bea shook her head. "No, I figured you could contact him when you're ready."
She winced, then admitted "Also, there was something... not right about him..."
"What do you mean?" Whim asked as she pulled on the pants.
Bea shook her head uneasily. "I don't know, exactly... he had bleeding cuts on his chest and stomach, and... he didn't smell right, Whim... He smelled like- like anger and hate and aggression..."
"That... doesn't sound good..." admitted Whim quietly, pausing with her shirt halfway on. "That's- that's what he smells like when he's been fighting..."
Bea nodded, frowning. She didn't like where this was leading... "He also mentioned that he was supposed to be out of town this weekend...?"
Whim nodded, thinking. "That's right... he said there was to be a mechanic's convention somewhere, which is why Scarred and I got together in the first place..."
Whim suddenly looked horrified. Slowly, she said "Bea... you don't- don't think...?"
Bea had come to the same horrific conclusion. "That it was... him behind the attack...? I hate to say it, Whim... I hate to even think it... but it's- it's possible..."
Whim slumped down in a chair, too shocked to speak. Part of her denied it, saying that it couldn't have been Gothic, that surely he would not have done anything like that... But another part of her, a coldly logical part, knew that he could have and would have done it...
"You said Scarred seemed... prepared for it?" Bea asked gently, sitting down next to Whim.
Whim nodded mutely.
"Then perhaps we should examine the things he gave you... maybe there's a clue..." offered Bea.
"Maybe..." muttered Whim. She pulled the backpack over to her, set it in her lap, and opened it up.
Bea looked inside. "Ramen? Water? A pot? What could that mean...? Or was this the wrong backpack...?"
"No..." Whim said quietly, tears streaming down her face again, "I get it..."
Bea didn't question this and continued searching the backpack. She soon found a stack of laminated papers. "They're all... letters..." she said quietly, examining them.
Whim held her paw out, and Bea passed them to her, looking over at the names on them.
"Richard... Francis... Mom and Dad... Me...? You..." Bea mumbled to herself as she read them.
Whim read hers and set the rest on Bea's desk. It read:
'Dearest, Most Beloved Whim:
			      If you're reading this, then I am probably no longer with you.
	For over a month by the date I write this letter, I have been having a recurring dream. I dream of my journey from home to here, of walking a moonlit road that stretches into infinity. I awake feeling as though I did on the day I left home and the day I left the farm, as though something is calling me.
	But what I have begun to see in these dreams is another figure, a figure of bright white beckoning me to join her... each day I awake before I reach her, but each night I get a little closer. I feel sure that the night I reach her, I will not live to dream again...
	I know that I cannot and should not stop you from feeling sad, from missing me, but know that I say with all my heart and soul that I love you, and that every moment I am with you is like a moment in that Paradise I once glimpsed, and hope to find again.
	Know, too, that just knowing our child lies within you and will be safe with you as she (or he) grows up fills me with utmost joy. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the story you and our child write together as he (or she) grows will be beautiful and wholly right.
	I hope that our child will understand that her (or his) father is watching over him (or her) from above, sending his love down on moonbeams and sunshine. I know that she (or he) will bask in the warmth of your love and affection, be guided wisely by your actions, and grow up strong, just like her mother.
	My book may be closed, my story complete, but you have much to live for. Our love will bind us together for eternity, and when the time is right, we shall find each other again. I love you, and nothing will change that.
								All my love, forever and beyond,
										              Scarred.'
Bea, whilst Whim read her own, did the same. Hers read:

'Dear Bea:
	   Though I do not know you very well, I know that you have been a good and true friend to my beloved Whim, and that is more than reason enough for me to thank you from the bottom of my heart for all you have done for her, and for us.
	In fact, there would have been no 'us' were it not for you. Your resourcefulness, kindness and willingness to help certainly saved our relationship, and our hearts.
	And you introduced us to a furson who has become a truly great friend of mine. Such furs are hard to find, and for this, I again thank you.
	I know that you will help my beloved Whim in these troubling times, for you are one of the most caring, compassionate furs I have ever met. For whatever support you can give her, I once again thank you.
	I hope as deeply as I can that you will find your own happiness in life as Whim and I have found ours. Thank you for everything.
									A heart in your debt,
										              Scarred.'
Bea felt her eyes watering as she read, and looked over at Whim, whose tears were falling freely.
They embraced again, holding each other for comfort. Once again, Scarred had united them.
***
An unknown time later, when their tears had been dried, the letters stored safely away, and the store closed, Whim and Bea sat in the office, discussing the plan.
Whim, they agreed, was to get out of town. She had insisted on going first to Scarred's parents, and then later to her own. Bea was to stay behind and act as a conduit for information to and from Whim. She was also going to deliver the letters Scarred had left for his other friends in town.
"Are you sure a cab will take you all the way over there, especially at this time of night?" Bea was asking. "You can always wait here until morning and take a bus..."
"I know one who will," insisted Whim. "Just call the cab company and ask for 'Charlie'..."
Bea nodded and dialed the phone number. A voice on the other end answered "Hello, Town and Around Taxi services, how can we help you?"
"I would like a cab to be sent to the bookstore at 814 Birch Terrace, please," Bea said. "And if I could, I would like to request a driver named 'Charlie'..."
"Hmm... alright," the voice on the other end said, "I'll ask him, but I don't think he'll be very keen. He's just about to go off-duty, you see..."
"Tell him 'Whim' asked for him, please..." Bea said at Whim's insistence.
"Alright, ma'am, just hold on a second..." The phone on the other end was set down. Some garbled radio chatter could be dimly heard, and then the voice said "Alright, ma'am, Charlie's on his way, just sit tight. Thank you for using Town and Around Taxi Services, and have a good night."
"Thank you, you too," Bea said, and hung up. She turned to Whim and sighed. "Well, he's on his way. All that's left to do is wait..."
"Thank you again, Bea..." Whim said, hugging her friend. "You've done so much for me... I feel like I can never repay you..."
Bea smiled as she hugged Whim back. "You're my friend, Whim... You don't need to pay me back. I'm just happy I can help you out."
"I know, you always say that," smiled Whim, "But I still feel that there should be something I can do for you..."
Bea laughed. "Really, Whim, it's fine. Just... be happy and healthy, okay? You have to keep in touch with me, though, because I'm already going to miss you..."
"I can do that... and something else, too..." Whim said suggestively. "You know that kiss I never gave you when you promoted me?"
Bea laughed again, but a bit nervously this time. "I thought you were joking... You are joking, right? Right...?"
Whim was advancing slowly on Bea. "What's the matter, Bea? I thought you liked this kind of stuff...?"
Bea was backing up, too, now. "I- I do, but Whim- We're- we're just friends..."
"What's wrong with friends showing each other their affection?" Whim asked, sticking her lower lip out.
Bea's knees hit the desk and she fell on her butt on top of it. There was nowhere left to go as she raised her paws to ward off Whim's advance. "Whim, that's not- that's different, Whim... This isn't you, so- so stop now before something happens you- something happens we both regret..."
Whim, heedless of Bea's protest, was leaning her face close to the blushing girl's now. "Just one kiss..."
Bea's heart was being torn in two. Wasn't this something she'd always wanted? A chance to be with Whim, a chance to share her love...? Yes, she decided, but not like this.
Whim's lips were nearly on her own as Bea raised her paw... and slapped whim across the face. Not too hard, but hard enough to make her recoil.
Tears came to Whim's eyes as she stumbled back a ways from Bea, rubbing her cheek. "Bea? Why would you do that? I thought we were friends?"
"We are," Bea said firmly, "and that's why I had to do it. I know it sounds cliché, Whim... but you're going to thank me for this later. You don't really want this. You're confused and upset. Your lover has been lost, but that doesn't mean your love is lost. Would this really help? What would it achieve? You need time to think things through. You'll realize what you really want."
Whim glared at Bea for a moment longer, then dropped her eyes, blushing. "I'm sorry, Bea... you're right. I was acting rashly... Thank you for stopping me..."
Bea's voice softened. "That's what friends are for, Whim... and your ride's here, now. Go, and we can talk about this later..."
Whim looked. Sure enough, a taxi was pulling up outside. She smiled and nodded to Bea, grabbed her backpack, rain poncho, and straw hat, and ran out to the taxi.
Bea waved back to Whim as she entered the taxi. When it had pulled out of sight, she sighed. What had been very likely her final chance at love with Whim had been lost... but she felt freer. He heart had been shackled down by her thinking that she still had the slightest chance with Whim, but now that that chance was gone... he heart was free to soar.
Bea knew her obsession with Whim had been unhealthy. She had lacked the confidence and will to pursue other relationships... But that could all change now. Bea smiled a little.
"Thank you, Whim... Thank you..."
***
"Miss Whim! It's good ta see ya again!" Charlie said happily, looking at her in the rearview mirror.
"It's good to see you, too, Charlie..." Whim smiled, wiping her eyes. "Thank you for coming."
"Ah, it's my pleasure, Miss Whim!" Charlie chuckled. "Anything for as nice a customer as yourself! What can I do for ya tonight?"
"I need to get out of town," sighed Whim. She gave him the address of Scarred's parent's house. "Can you do that for me? I'll pay extra..."
"Yeah, I can do dat for ya, Miss Whim," Charlie smiled.
"Thank you so much, Charlie..." Whim sighed with relief. "It smells really nice in here," she added.
"Ya think so?" Asked Charlie, obviously pleased. "I'm tryin' out dis vanilla air freshener..." He pulled out onto the road that led to the next town over, empty except for them.
Above them, the storm clouds of earlier were blowing away, revealing the pale, round moon. Whim gazed out the window at it. To think that same moon had shone down on Scarred during his journey... Instead of more tears, as she'd expected, Whim found a certain peacefulness upon viewing it, a quiet strength...
Whim and Charlie chatted pleasantly throughout their moonlit journey. Whim was glad for a distraction from the events of the night. When she looked up at the moon, she remembered Scarred's final letter to her, and felt loved.
When the cab pulled up outside the house at the address Scarred had left, the lights were off, though the moon lit a path to the door.
"Ya sure dis is da place you want?" Charlie asked doubtfully. "It doesn't look like dey're expectin' ya..."
"Yes, this is it. Thank you very much, Charlie," Whim said, getting out of the taxicab. "How much do I owe you?"
"For you, Miss Whim, it's half-price..." Charlie smiled and read off the price.
Whim included a generous tip in the cash she handed Charlie and smiled. "Thank you again, Charlie. That's very kind of you."
"Ah, fuhgeddaboutit..." Charlie blushed. "Just to be safe, I'm gonna wait for ya to get inside, okay?"
"Oh, you don't have to do that, Charlie..." Whim blushed.
"Nah, I wouldn't feel right, leavin' ya widout a ride if something' happened..." Charlie said.
"Well... okay," Whim said, smiling. "I'll wave to you when I get in, okay?"
Charlie nodded, and Whim walked the path to the front door. "Scarred... give me strength..." she said quietly, and rang the doorbell.
It was a minute before Whim could hear the deadbolt on the door turning and a voice muttering to itself. The door opened, and there stood a middle-aged male cat dressed in his pajamas. His resemblance to Scarred was obvious.
"Who are you and for what have you rung our doorbell this time of night, young lady?" The cat grumbled irritably.
"My name is Whim, and I'm here- I'm here to talk to you about your son Scarred..." Whim said nervously.
Scarred's father sighed. "You'd better come in..." he said, stepping back from the door.
Whim turned around and waved to Charlie to signal that he could go, and walked into the house. She could hear Charlie accelerating away as she closed the door behind her.
"What could you possibly need to talk about that couldn't wait until morning?" Scarred's father asked.
"It's rather urgent, I'm afraid, and not good..." Whim sighed sadly.
"...I'll go wake the missus," Scarred's father said, running up the stairs.
Whim waited in the foyer until Scarred's parents came downstairs.
"Let's go into the kitchen, dear..." His mother said, leading the way.
Whim followed the couple, and they were soon sitting at a round wooden table in a kitchen of checkered tile floors, wooden cabinets, and slightly outdated appliances.
"What's happened? Is Scarred injured?" Scarred's mother asked anxiously.
Whim laid the letter Scarred had left to his parents on the table. Her eyes watered, and her voice was hollow. "I'm afraid... Scarred's dead..."
***
Both Scarred's mother and father had wept as they read the letter, and Whim had sat there, feeling bad for them. In the letter, she gathered, Scarred had finally explained what had been going on. Whim explained what had happened to them tonight and what she had done afterwards. Once they understood just who she was, they were nothing but compassionate, though Scarred's mother had one question:
"If he... if he was so prepared... did he leave a will...?" She sniffled, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.
Whim nodded and found it amongst the other letters she still carried. She set in on the table and let Scarred's parents examine it. She had not yet read it herself, for she knew this was a rather private matter that they would have to handle anyway.
"He's left you the contents of his bank accounts..." Scarred's father said after a while. "To start a college fund for your child..."
Whim sniffled and nodded. That was just like him, wasn't it? Going out of his way to help, even to the end.
"What will you do now?" Scarred's mother asked Whim. "Are your parents around to help?"
Whim nodded. "They live in the city... I was going to take a bus there after I told you..."
"We'll pay for you, of course," Scarred's father insisted.
"Or you can stay here for a while..." suggested Scarred's mother.
"No... thank you for the offer, but I had better go..." Whim shook her head. "It will be easier to disappear there..."
"Do you really think this... 'Gothic' fellow will come after you?" Scarred's mother asked, worried.
Whim shook her head and shrugged. "I don't think so... but then I didn't think he'd find out about us, either..."
"Then perhaps you're right..." Scarred's father said. "We'll keep in touch with you, and inform you of... the arrangements..."
"You'll have to stay here until morning. We have a guest room you can use..." Scarred's mother said.
"Thank you," Whim said, and the matter was closed.
Scarred's mother and father stored their documents away in a safe place, directed Whim to the guest bedroom, and they all said good night.
***
In the morning, no one looked as if they had gotten much sleep. Scarred's mother cooked breakfast for the lot of them before Scarred's father drove Whim to the bus station. Whim had given Scarred's parents her parents' address, so they could stay in contact.
Whim got her ticket, hopped on a bus, and was off. Her parents had moved to the city shortly after she'd left home, transferring their jobs with them. Her father was a third-generation immigrant from India who ran the jewelry store his father and grandfather had run before him. He was also where Whim's exotic tiger stripes had come from. Her mother's family had been in the country for as long as they could remember but thought they had European roots way back. She had a job as banking executive and was the source of Whim's wolf blood.
The bus was fairly empty and quiet at this time of morning, with only about a dozen businessfurs apparently making their way to work. Whim dozed, her head against the glass, until the bus jerked to a stop at the city bus station.
Whim got off with the rest of the furs and made her way to a city bus stop. She paid her fare and boarded it when it arrived, and spent about thirty minutes riding it through the city until she found the stop closest to her parents' apartment.
She departed there and walked the few blocks to their apartment complex. Her parents lived near the top, in one of the more expensive and expansive suites. She thanked the doorman as he opened the door for her, checked the list on the wall to make sure she could remember correctly, and went to summon an elevator.
The ride up was fast and smooth. Apparently no one was waiting to use it just then. Whim hoped she'd remembered her parents' schedule correctly. But even if she hadn't, she had a spare keycard to get in.
The elevator dinged, the doors opened, and Whim stepped out into a lushly padded hallway. She followed the signs on the walls to Room 8719 and knocked on the door. After a moment, the door opened, still secured by the chain, and Whim could see her father peeking out. She waved sadly, and the door closed.
She could hear the chain being slid off, and then the door was opened even wider. There stood her father, apparently in the process of getting ready for work. He wasn't wearing the jacket to his tuxedo and his cuffs were unfastened, but he seemed to forget all about this as he saw his daughter.
"Whim!" he said happily, embracing her. "How's my lovely, pregnant daughter?"
Whim held onto her father and sighed. "Not good, I'm afraid, Daddy..."
"No? What's wrong?" He asked, worried.
"Is Mom here? I don't want to have to tell it again..." Whim said first.
Her father nodded. "You had better come in and sit down, then..."
Whim sat down on the living room couch and waited. Soon her father returned, following her mother, who was only everything but the jacket to her business suit and seemed to have been in the process of putting her makeup on.
"Whim, honey! It's good to see you, but your father tells me you said something is wrong...?" She, too, had anxiety in her voice.
"You guys will want to sit down for this..." Whim said sadly.
They did, and she began. "Well, I have some explaining to do..."
***
By the time Whim wrapped up with "...and so they gave me money for bus fare, and here I am..." She was crying, her mother's makeup was smeared, and her father was torn between anger and sorrow.
"I ought to kill that..." her father uttered some rather unprintable words here "...mutt myself!"
"Oh, honey, that's so sad!" Her mother said, wiping her eyes. "You'll have to stay here with us, of course. We'll take care of both you and the baby..."
"Thank you..." Whim sniffed. "He left a letter for you guys, too..."
Her parents read it, and said "He really was a sweet boy..."
Whim nodded, looking out the window to the sky. "He was... and I know he's still watching over me..."
***
What the police had found upon arrival at Scarred's apartment made newspaper headlines the next day. They screamed "Gruesome Murder Discovered!" and "Brutal Beat-Down Found!"
The only thing the police knew for sure so far was that the killer had used brute strength to break down any door in his way as he went upstairs and apparently killed the occupant of the apartment (whose identity had not yet been confirmed) with a blunt instrument of some kind. The body was horribly mangled, yet the face relatively intact, consistent with a deadly interrogation. The victim had probably not been expecting it, as he was wearing only boxer shorts. It was being looked into as a hate crime, due to the perceived nature of the victim. The purpose of the rope ladder hanging from the window was not yet confirmed.
Whim wept anew as she read what had happened to Scarred. It almost didn't sound like something Gothic would have done... almost. Every time she missed Scarred, she reread his letter and looked towards the sky. She spent a lot of time up on the rooftop garden, stargazing... or as she called it, Scarred-gazing...
With help from his letter and her parents, Whim got through the next week as Scarred's parents prepared his funeral. They opted for an open casket, so everyone could see what an injustice had been done to their son. He was to be buried, as requested in his will, with his favorite old Galaxy Invasion t-shirt on and in his jeans. The clothes and the coroner hid the worst of the injuries, at least.
Everyone he knew and more had come to the graveside service. Coworkers, old and new, old schoolmates, Francis and his boyfriend, Richard and Tansy, Bea, and, of course, Whim. Even the weather seemed to pay its respects; it was warm and sunny with a slight breeze and a few puffy white clouds.
Many furs wept freely as the minister sermonized about Scarred's life. Everyone there had been touched in some way or another by him, remembering fondly his friendly smile, happy demeanor, and numerous jokes.
Richard and Francis, crying, gave their own speeches about their friendships with Scarred, recalling with sad smiles how he had always been willing to help, how he had always known just what to say to cheer someone up, and all the other things that had made him such a nice guy.
The coffin was closed and lowered slowly into the grave. Scarred's friends went up to leave their offerings.
Richard threw in a package of ramen noodles, seafood-flavored.
Tansy threw in a rose, symbolic of the ones Scarred had suggested Richard get her for their first date.
Bea threw in a copy of her and Scarred's shared favorite Redwall book, which they had discussed at length.
Francis threw in his copy of the script of Mothello, which Scarred had seen him in several times.
Whim went up last, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a single quarter. A quarter to bring them together in this world... and a quarter to bring them together in the next...
Whim whispered what she knew Scarred would have wanted her to say: "I'll see you on the flip side..."
Scarred's parents shook hands and hugged everybody as they left, eyes watering and noses running. As Whim hugged Scarred's mother, she said "Thank you for making our son happy..."
Whim nodded, sniffled, and whispered "It was my pleasure..."
The gathering afterwards, as Scarred had requested, was not a mourning of his death, but a celebration of his life. It was held at the arcade, and catering had been provided by the grocery store. The games were free to play, and many people even managed to have a little fun.
There was a plaque on the Galaxy Invasion machine that read "Dedicated to the memory of Scarred: Protector of Earth, Destroyer of Aliens."
Richard, Tansy, Francis, Bea and Whim all got together, each with a bowl of ramen, and raised a toast to Scarred. They told their favorite stories of his antics, sniffling and wiping their eyes but smiling. They exchanged addresses and made a pact to keep in touch and get together every year on the date of Scarred's death to remember him together.
"We'll gather 'round the arcade and raise bowl of ramen to his memory..." As Richard put it.
After a while, everyone hugged their goodbyes and left for their homes.
Scarred may have been gone, but he had brought them all together, forevermore.
As each one of them left the arcade, they paused to look up at the sky... and smile.
***
As the next six months went by, Whim found her memories of Scarred still fresh, but the pain fading, being replaced with a sort of peace. The baby within her grew, healthy and strong, Scarred's last gift to her and the world.
One wintry February night, the light of a full moon shone down upon a hospital in which lay Whim upon a gurney. The contractions had started earlier that afternoon, and her mother had rushed her to the hospital, where they were joined shortly afterwards by her father. The nurses had admitted her and put her in a room with all the equipment they might have needed, and waited.
And now Whim held her child, wrapped in a blanket in her arms. Her eyes were filled with tears of joy as she gazed down at the beautiful creation she held. A beautiful little girl, who would bear the name her father had seen for her in a dream...
"Tarel..." Whim whispered. "My beautiful little Tarel..."
With the doctor's permission, Whim stood at the window with Tarel in her arms and let the moonlight fall upon them both.
"Here she is, Scarred... our daughter. I swear she will grow up knowing you send your love from above..."
*** 19 Years Later... ***
"Happy birthday, Tarel!" Whim said cheerfully, coming into her daughter's room.
Tarel mumbled something unintelligible from underneath her blankets.
"I'm not entirely sure what you said, Tarel," Whim smiled, "But it's ten in the morning. I think that's plenty late enough, don't you?"
Tarel's lack of response seemed to express disagreement.
"Well, I'll just leave your breakfast to get cold then, shall I?" Whim said nonchalantly. "And I'll just go ahead and assume you don't care about that cute boy waiting at the window..."
"What? Boy?" Tarel scrambled out of bed and over to her window. Looking down, she could see no one special... or anyone at all.
"Wait... Mom! We live on the 87th floor!" Tarel said indignantly, turning around. 
But Whim had vanished, and taken Tarel's blankets with her. Faint laughter could be heard from the hallway.
Tarel grumbled and went to her closet to get dressed.
When she came out into the kitchen, she was wearing her martial arts gi, tied off at the waist with her black belts from karate and tae kwon do. But this wasn't terribly unusual.
"You can take a day off from training on your birthday, I'd think," smiled Whim.
"Nope," answered Tarel briefly, sitting down at the table and shoving some breakfast into her mouth.
Whim rolled her eyes. "You care to enlighten me?"
Tarel chewed and swallowed before answering. "Crime doesn't take a day off."
"You don't fight crime," said Whim.
"Not as far as you know..." smiled Tarel.
Whim chuckled. "You're definitely you're father's daughter..."
"That's right," Tarel said, standing up. "I protect the weak and helpless, just like he did."
"Wait, are you finished already?" Whim asked, confused by Tarel's sudden departure. "At least come give your poor old mother a kiss before you go..."
Tarel sighed exaggeratedly. "Fine..." she said, as if she were being asked to jump off a bridge.
Whim just smiled and accepted Tarel's kiss on the cheek with a thanks. "Be careful!" she added.
Tarel just waved as she left the apartment, closing the door behind her.
Whim shook her head, sighed contentedly and finished her own breakfast before beginning to clean up.
***
Tarel bypassed the elevator and went straight to the stairwell. She stretched for several minutes before she opened the door and began her descent. She jogged at a steady pace, sticking to the right side of the stairs, although she didn't expect to see any other furs, especially so far up.
She had been doing this for a number of years now. She had started running seriously at age 12, joining the middle school track team, where she honed her skills to become the best long-distance runner at her school. In high school, she had joined the cross-country team, and excelled at that, too. 
She wasn't sure what it was. Running just seemed to be in her blood. Her mother said this was likely due to her wolf heritage, and what she called "her father's wanderlust".
Tarel knew the story well. Her mother had oft used it as a bedtime story for her when she was younger, albeit with some edits. As she had gotten older, her mother had given her a letter written to her by her father before his demise, telling the story in his own words. Tarel thought it sounded like quite the journey... not necessarily the distance, but all that it symbolized, all that he had felt.
Tarel, growing up, had been told by everyone in her family- her grandparents, her mother, her Uncles Richard and Francis, her aunts Tansy and Bea- that her father had been a hero. She had learned of his fate when she was old enough, and vowed to do everything in her power to protect her mother, as her father had.
To that end, she had signed up first for tae kwon do classes, as she had heard tae kwon do was good for self-defense. She had risen quickly through the ranks to black belt, and become a very skilled fighter. Finding after that that she wanted a bit more diversity, she had signed up for karate. She had soon become just as skilled in that as in tae kwon do and achieved black belt.
As a result of her two distinct martial styles, her fighting moves were often unpredictable to those she sparred with, and her defeat of several tough opponents earned her the respect and admiration of many. Tarel stayed grounded, though, shunning praise and always striving to better herself.
Whim, of course, had worried about her daughter's safety at first, but had relaxed a little when she proved her prowess. She supported her daughter's activities whole-heartedly, showing up to all her tournaments and meets.
Yet for all her physical prowess, Tarel at least matched it in mental capacity. She was a voracious reader, even early on, devouring any and every book she could. She did quite well in school, too, making straight 'A's, even in advanced classes, and graduating from high school a year early.
But instead of going straight on to college, Tarel had opted to take some time off. If asked why, she wouldn't give a straight answer. Everyone assumed this meant she was undecided, and left it alone. 
But Tarel knew what she wanted to do, and she was going to do it as soon as she turned 19: She was going out to avenge her father. She would do the job the police had not, could not, and punish the furson who had caused her mother and family so much pain.
To this end, she had trained harder than ever in her year off; not exactly under waterfalls or in rugged mountains, but in the urban jungle. She learned to balance and run on thin railings, climb buildings with her bare paws, and jump like a professional basketball player.
She had taken up the art of wielding nunchaku, and her impressive speed and paw-eye coordination meant she was very skilled, exceeding even her teachers. She was a potentially lethal furson with or without them, but she carried a fighting-quality pair with her in her purse, bag, or gi, when she wore it.
Those unused to her appearance would find her a bit strange-looking as she jogged down the sidewalk. Dressed in her gi, paws and feet wrapped with bandages, a pair of nunchaku stuck in her dual black-belts, she looked both intimidating... and a little crazy. While not overly muscular, her workouts had given Tarel a sinewy strength and lean look.
That, and her unique fur, very faint stripes like her mother's, but not as dark, had many a furson lusting after her. But Tarel would brook no distractions from her training or quest for vengeance, turning down offers from both boys and girls.
Despite this, she still had a following, of sorts. There were a number of furs vying to be her friend for one reason or another, but there was only a pawful Tarel considered real friends. Among her real friends, there was only one she had told her plan to, the one who had she had known the longest, an otter girl by the name of Lily.
Tarel and Lily had met in third grade, when Tarel had stood up for Lily when she was being harassed by a group of girls who seemed to be making fun of her weight. Lily had been crying by the time Tarel noticed and came over to help.
"Leave her alone, Monica," Tarel had said, her arms crossed.
Monica, the arrogant poodle who had been leading the taunting, sneered "Why should I, Tarel?"
"Because it's not nice… and because I said so..." Tarel had said nobly.
"It may not be nice, but the truth isn't always nice," Monica had sniffed haughtily. "She's fat, and that bag of candy bars certainly won't help her lose weight."
"I don't believe that's any of your business, Monica," Tarel had narrowed her eyes at Monica. "Now I will ask you to again to leave her alone."
"And what if I don't want to leave fatty there alone? What if I want to keep talking with tubby, there?" Monica had challenged, crossing her own arms.
"Then you'll be the next one crying," Tarel had said firmly, lowering her arms to her side.
Monica had laughed scornfully. "You can't make me cry, because I am perfect, unlike you or the thing stuffing her fat face with candy behind you..."
"You asked for it..." Tarel had sighed. She'd made as if she was going to say something, taking a deep breath, but instead lashed out with her fist, punching Monica in the stomach.
Monica had fallen onto her butt and burst into tears.
"Game over..." Tarel had smiled.
Needless to say, the teacher wasn't too happy with either of them. They each got a lecture and sent to opposite corners for time-outs. Despite her punishment, which she hardly minded anyway, Tarel was rather pleased with herself. Just like Daddy, she'd protected the weak and innocent.
Lily was rather pleased, herself, and had approached Tarel at recess. "Thank you for standing up for me earlier..." she'd said shyly.
"You're welcome!" Tarel had beamed happily. "It was fun!"
"My name's Lily... you want to play?" Lily had asked quietly.
"Sure, that sounds fun, Lily. My name's Tarel," Tarel had introduced herself.
The two had run off to swing together, and their friendship had been sealed. They had been friends ever since, in fair weather or foul, through thick and... thicker. Just as Tarel had never lost her love of hitting things and protecting others, Lily had never lost her love of eating, or her "pup fat", not that it mattered to either of them. After that, Monica had been rather less direct with her insults, lest Tarel continue to be direct with her fists.
Now, Lily was Tarel's willing accomplice in her quest. She was going to cover for Tarel tomorrow as she escaped. Their plan was to spend the day together in the town Scarred's parents still lived in, purportedly to visit them and go shopping. Then they would tell Whim that Tarel was going to spend the night at Lily's house. But instead of boarding the bus with Lily, Tarel would stay behind in town, and, as her father had done when he was her age, walk to the next town over, where Tarel would extract her vengeance.
But for now, Tarel was training as normal. She would jog to the gym where she had a membership, workout for a while beating on the punching bags and jogging on the treadmill, then jog back home and up the stairs. It would be lunchtime by the time she finished her cool-down stretches. After lunch she would jog to the library and exercise her mind as she had her body. Then a jog back home for supper, meditation, and bed.
Tarel did just that, enjoying her birthday the way she enjoyed nearly every other day of the year. Her mother made her ramen for supper, as it was her favorite dish, and a cake for a special dessert. Birthdays were among the rare occasions that Tarel allowed herself to deviate from her otherwise strict diet, and she enjoyed this opportunity as much as she could.
After supper, as she sat under the moon, meditating on the roof, she heard the door open behind her and the padding of paws.
"Yes, Mom?" Tarel asked without opening her eyes.
"Aww, how'd you know it was me?" Whim laughed, coming to sit next to her daughter.
"It's not like you've never tried that before..." Tarel said, smiling a little.
"Okay, so you got me all figured out, I see," Whim said, smiling.
"Pretty much," said Tarel, her eyes still closed.
After that, they were silent for a few minutes. Whim looked up at the moon, nearly full, and the stars, twinkling brightly. Tarel looked into herself, hoping to achieve true Peace, but feeling pretty peaceful in the mean time.
"So... you're 19 now..." Whim sighed. "Where does the time go? It seems like just yesterday you were running all over the place, turning up your nose at what I cooked, and hitting things..."
"Wait, what am I saying? That WAS yesterday..." Whim smiled.
This got a laugh from Tarel. "Very funny, Mom..."
"I know, thank you," Whim said modestly. "But if I may be serious for a minute... there's something we need to talk about, Tarel..."
Tarel resisted the urge to joke around, and opened her eyes. "Yes, Mom?"
Whim looked to the sky again. "You know that your father was 19 when- when he died..."
"I know..." sighed Tarel, looking up at the sky, too.
"I'm really feeling old, now..." Whim said, a bit sadly. "I look at you, and see so much of him in you... Now you're the same age he was, and still is, I suppose..."
Tarel said nothing, waiting for her mother to finish.
"It's odd for me, Tarel, and hard sometimes…" Whim sighed. "But anyway... your father left something for you to have on your 19th birthday." She handed Tarel a letter she had been given that fateful night over 19 years ago.
Tarel took the letter. It was laminated, like the others she'd seen, but folded and sealed. "You didn't...?"
Whim shook her head.  "No, nobody did. It's the way he wanted it..."
Tarel went to open the letter... and hesitated. Was she truly ready for this?
She sighed and put the letter in her lap. No, she'd decided, she wasn't ready just yet.
"I'll read it later," Tarel explained quietly. "I need time to... prepare..."
"Do with it as you will," Whim nodded. "It's yours now, Tarel..."
They were silent again for a while longer, gazing up at the stars together.
"Dad loves you, you know..." Tarel said quietly.
Whim sniffled. Tears ran down her cheeks as she thought of Scarred, still so young... "I know..."
"Mom... I meditate under the moon for a reason..." Tarel admitted. "You always said Dad sends his love down on moonbeams... and when I sit out here, he feels close... I can feel his love for you and for me."
Whim sniffed and nodded. "I know what you mean, Tarel... when I look up at the moon, I know he's watching over us..."
"I love you, Mom," Tarel said simply.
"I love you too, Tarel," Whim replied.
They hugged, and under the moonlight, they felt as if Scarred was there, too...
***
The next morning, Tarel awoke feeling full of raw energy. Today was the day she would start her quest. Tonight was the night she retraced the paw prints of her father. A desire burned within her to hit the road, to explore, to run and never stop...
"John Wolfgang Goethe... Gothic... your days are numbered..." Tarel whispered menacingly, looking out over the horizon. "I will find you... and I will-"
"Tarel! Breakfast!" Whim called cheerfully as she opened the door.
Her dramatic moment ruined, Tarel sighed and said "Okay..."
"Nice to see you're awake for once!" Whim chuckled as she left.
Tarel ignored this last jibe and went over to her closet. She picked out some clothes suitable for a shopping trip, a clingy black t-shirt with a bright green splatter pattern and a pair of denim shorts, and grabbed her backpack, throwing it on the bed behind her. She also grabbed her gi and belts from their hangars and carried them to her bed.
She laid her gi out flat and folded it carefully up into a square bundle. This bundle she put in her backpack, along with her carefully folded and bound belts. 
Reaching under her bed, Tarel pulled out the decorative red walnut box she stored her nunchaku in. She opened it, gazed at the polished steel nunchaku lying upon their bed of purple silk, and put them into her backpack. She closed the box and hid it under her bed again.
The final thing Tarel put into her backpack was the letter from her father. She hoped to find the strength to read it on her journey. She zipped her backpack shut and carried it with her as she went to breakfast.
"What's in the bag, honey?" Whim asked, seeing Tarel carrying her backpack.
"Stuff for tonight," Tarel said smoothly.
Whim nodded. "Well, you'll probably find new ones anyway, right?" she smiled.
"Yeah, there will probably be something I like," agreed Tarel, sitting down.
She and her mother continued to make small talk while they finished their breakfast, then said their goodbyes as Tarel departed. She slung her backpack onto her back for easier carrying.
Hoping to burn off a little energy so she didn't feel so twitchy, Tarel took her customary jog down the stairs. By the time she reached the bottom, she felt much more normal. She stretched a bit and set off at a jog for Lily's place.
Tarel arrived at Lily's apartment building with time to spare before they were scheduled to meet up. She killed some time by jogging up the stairs to the 13th floor, where Lily and her parents had made their residence. She found the door marked with 13M and knocked.
Lily's mother, herself an otter of not inconsiderable weight, answered. "Tarel! Nice to see you!" she smiled. "Come in, come in!" 
"It's good to see you, too, Marcia!" Tarel smiled, entering the apartment. She had been on a first-name basis with Lily's parents for years now, as she and Lily had become such good friends. "Harry at work already?"
Marcia nodded happily. "Yep. He likes to go in a little early sometimes and see if he can get some extra research time in."
"He certainly enjoys his job, huh?" Tarel asked.
"Oh, that he does," agreed Marcia. "He always says he'll be a reporter until the day they pry the pen and notebook from his paws and send him back to me."
"I read his latest article, the second part about the history of the old marina district," Tarel said, "pretty interesting stuff."
"He'll be happy to hear you said that!" Beamed Marcia. "Lily's just finishing up breakfast, if you want to wait here..."
Tarel nodded, and Marcia left to fetch her daughter. Tarel sat down on the living room couch as she waited. She knew from first-paw experience that breakfast was quite a lengthy affair around Lily's house, taken quite seriously as the most important meal of the day. She picked up a copy of the newest issue of Recipe Digest off the coffee table and flipped through it.
Several minutes later, the creaking of floorboards signaled Lily's arrival. Tarel set down the magazine and stood up.
"Hey Lily! You look good this morning," she said, embracing her friend.
"Thanks! So do you," Lily replied, hugging Tarel back. "I didn't even know you had normal clothes..."
Tarel rolled her eyes and laughed. "You're so funny, Lily..."
"Happy birthday, by the way," Lily said as they walked out of the apartment and into the hallway, waving to Marcia. "I got you something, actually..."
"You didn't have to do that," Tarel said, blushing a little. "Where is it? In the bags?"
"Huh? Oh, no..." Lily shook her head, "These are empty, just like you asked." Tarel had indeed asked for empty plastic shopping bags as part of her plan.
"Well, that's good," Tarel said, confused. "But I thought you said you got me something?"
"Oh, yeah," nodded Lily, remembering. "And then I ate it."
Tarel stopped walking and stared strangely at Lily, as if she couldn't quite decide whether or not to believe her.
"It was delicious candy," smiled Lily, rubbing her round stomach.
Tarel continued to stare for a moment, then broke out into a small smile. "You're lying," she said, beginning to laugh, "You are so full of it..."
Lily couldn't keep up the act any longer and began laughing, too. "Yeah, I'm kidding!" She reached into the back pocket of her tight denim shorts, struggling to fit her paw in, and pulled something out. "Here you go, your real present."
"A gift card?" asked Tarel as she took it from Lily and examined it. "To Itadakimasu?! Wow, Lily, this is great! Thank you so much!" She embraced Lily again, planting a happy kiss on her chubby cheek. 
Lily blushed a little, happily embarrassed by so much affection. "Aww, you're welcome, Tarel... I know how much you like that place..."
Itadakimasu was a Japanese-style steakhouse Tarel liked to visit on occasion. It was also probably the only restaurant she didn't get strange stares in when she came in for lunch wearing her gi. Their food was top-quality and authentic, and the atmosphere and décor made one feel as if they had stepped out of the city and into Japan.
The girls continued on to the elevator, Tarel tucking the card into her own shorts pocket. "Still... thanks a lot for this, Lily. By the way, I like your shirt today."
"Oh, this old thing?" Lily chuckled, looking down at her shirt and pulling at the hem. "It's nothing special, really. I just liked the color."
"Well, yeah, that's what I meant to say," Tarel corrected herself. "That it looks good on you."
The shirt in question was salmon-colored and a bit too small for Lily, clinging tightly to her frame and not completely covering her stomach. But nevertheless, the color complimented Lily's fur, dark brown on her back, face, and sides and a lighter tan stripe starting on the underside of her mouth and continuing down her front.
"Thanks!" Lily said happily. She didn't get too many compliments on her appearance, except from her parents and Tarel.
The elevator dinged, the doors slid open, and Tarel and Lily stepped in. Riding in the elevator was a bit of an odd sensation for Tarel, as she didn't use them much anymore. The sudden start downwards gave her stomach a sort of flip, and she jumped a little.
"Nervous much?" Lily laughed a little.
"No, I'm just really... excited for tonight, actually," admitted Tarel happily.
"I like shopping, too," Lily grinned.
"That's not what I meant, and you know it," laughed Tarel. Her voice became serious as she said "Tonight, I  will start my journey. And soon, I will have my revenge. I will-"
The elevator doors jerked to a stop and the doors dinged open, causing Tarel to jump again and ruining her dramatic moment.
Lily couldn't help but laugh again as she stepped out of the elevator. "C'mon, jumpy, let's go."
Tarel sighed and followed. She was going to get that down sooner or later.
She and Lily hailed a passing cab to take them to the bus station, as Lily wasn't about to walk that far if she could help it. Tarel felt almost claustrophobic being in the taxi as it drove down the streets. Instead of being out in the open air, jogging along the sidewalk, she was in a small metal box on wheels that was actually warmer than outside. Plus, she was going to a place where she would then get into a large metal box on wheels.
Tarel sighed inwardly and wondered if she was a bit out of touch these days. She had shunned transportation other than her own two feet for years now, preferring the exercise and freedom it offered over cars and buses. She didn't watch television, preferring books or meditation. She didn't have a computer, much less Internet access. Had her fixation on revenge negatively affected her social development?
Tarel shook her head and pushed all this aside for the time being. First, revenge. Then she could do whatever she wanted... Whatever that happened to be. She hadn't much thought about it before, and wasn't about to start now.
Lily soon struck up a conversation with her, and Tarel was glad for the distraction. She forgot all about her worries of stunted social growth as they wove their way through the city. Almost before they knew it, they were nearing the bus station.
When they arrived, they thanked the driver, paid him, and went to buy their tickets. As the town was fairly close, only 30 miles from the city, the tickets weren't too expensive and the ride wouldn't be too long. They sat down in some rather uncomfortable plastic seats to wait.
Lily soon spotted a concession stand, and went to buy some snacks for the trip, leaving Tarel alone. Tarel closed her eyes for a bi of light meditation, letting the footfalls, distant chatter, and general hubbub of the station fall away, while still keeping an ear cocked for disturbances.
She soon heard steps that did not sound like Lily's approaching her position. Opening her eyes, she saw a young ferret dressed in a security guard uniform coming her way.
"Ticket, ma'am?" he asked, one hand on his nightstick.
"Of course," Tarel said, pulling her ticket out of her pocket and holding it out.
The guard took the ticket, examined it, and gave it back to Tarel. "Thank you, ma'am. Enjoy your day," he said, tipping his hat to her.
"You too," Tarel responded automatically, putting the ticket back in her pocket.
Before she could close her eyes again, however, Lily came back with a bag filled with snacks. "He was cute," she smiled as she sat down, indicating the guard.
"Hmm? Was he?" Tarel asked vaguely. "I hadn't noticed."
Lily sighed dramatically. "Tarel, Tarel, Tarel..." she shook her head. "What are we going to do with you? You've got to get out more."
"Hey, I get out plenty!" Tarel said, slightly indignant. "I go out jogging nearly every day, and-"
"I meant out socializing," Lily said. "You don't do much of that."
"I guess I don't..." Tarel admitted grudgingly, "But there will be plenty of time for that afterwards."
"I'll hold you to that," Lily grinned. "Once you're out of jail, we'll go out partying together."
Tarel rolled her eyes and laughed. "Oh, thank you for your confidence in me," she said sarcastically, "you're such a good friend."
"Aren't I?" Lily smiled.
Not too long after that, boarding for their bus was announced. They grabbed their bags and headed to the bus. There were only a few other furs waiting to get on, but several disembarking. Tarel and Lily stood clear and waited for everyone to be out of the way. Once they had got on the bus, having showed the driver their tickets, they sat down near the back, in the row behind the driver, and waited.
The first thing Tarel noticed about the bus was the strange smells. She could smell old sweat, perfumes, aftershaves and who knew what else. She opened the window a crack to let some of the relatively better-smelling air from outside in. The second thing she noted was that the floor was oddly sticky, pulling at her feet every time she lifted them up. She decided just to keep her feet on the seat instead. Another thing Tarel noticed was that the seats themselves, although occasionally holey, were actually fairly comfortable to sit in.
All this just added to the strangeness of being in the bus for Tarel. She began considering just jogging back to the city after her quest was done. She'd just have to watch out for traffic, and would probably want to do it during the day, when she was more visible. Otherwise, it sounded kind of fun.
Though the ride was going to be fairly short, Tarel wished she'd brought a book or something. Lily was already considering opening one of the bags of chips, Tarel could tell. The bus hadn't even started moving yet, but-
Just then, the bus jerked into motion, pulling out into traffic and heading to the highway. Tarel folded her legs into the butterfly position and closed her eyes. It was going to be an uneventful trip.
***
One uneventful trip later, Tarel and Lily disembarked from the bus, stretching and yawning. As they walked out of the station into the sunshine, Lily threw away her empty chip bags and stuffed the other two bags of chips into Tarel's backpack.
"Hey, what am I, your slave?" smiled Tarel. "I have to carry everything for you?"
"You might as well," Lily responded happily. "Consider it training."
"Very funny," said Tarel.
The two set off at a walk for the shops downtown, just a couple blocks from the bus station. They knew it was best to do some actual shopping so their whole purported reason for the trip wouldn't be a complete lie. 
Tarel and Lily browsed through a couple stores, stopped for lunch, explored another few stores, stopped for a snack, relaxed in the park, played a game of mini-golf, had a snack and took a taxi to Tarel's grandparents house. Tarel did indeed end up carrying most of the bags, though she didn't mind terribly.
They visited pleasantly for awhile, Tarel's grandparents gave her their birthday present (money, as Tarel usually asked for), had supper, and said their goodbyes.
This was where Tarel and Lily planned to part ways. They hugged their goodbyes and wished each other luck. Lily put all the bags of clothes into one larger bag and climbed into the taxi they had called while Tarel hid in the bushes next to the house. It was getting dark out, the setting sun red in the western sky.
Lily sighed to herself as the taxi pulled away, leaving Tarel behind. She had never before doubted that what Tarel had planned would work... but now, as they actually put it into action... It was harder to believe that nothing would go wrong.
Lily arrived shortly at the bus station, paid the taxi driver, and, lugging the huge bag of clothes, boarded the bus back to the city. She showed the driver her ticket, an open-ended round-trip like Tarel's, and went to the back of the bus again.
The bus was empty except for her and a few other furs either going to work the night shift, Lily guessed, or making their way back home as she was. Either way, they were quiet, and the trip was peaceful. Or boring, Lily supposed, depending on how you looked at it.
When she arrived at the city bus station, the same young ferret security guard Lily had found so cute before was directing the pedestrian traffic. Lots of businessfurs were shuffling about, getting to the buses that would take them home for the day.
As Lily disembarked, the last one off the bus, the guard caught her eye and gave her a smile and wink. Lily blushed and giggled as she waved shyly back at him before going on her way. She just may have to come here more often...
Lily waved down her last taxi of the day and directed the driver first to Tarel's apartment. This was her next part in the plan. 
Once they arrived, Lily asked the driver to wait and went into the building. She took the elevator up to Tarel's floor, knocked on her door, and was let in by Whim.
"Lily? What are you doing here?" Whim asked, smiling but confused.
"Oh, I offered to drop off Tarel's clothes for her," Lily lied, hefting the bag.
"What's Tarel doing that she couldn't have done it herself?" Whim asked, stepping aside to let Lily in,
"Oh, she wanted to, but I made her stay outside and talk with some people," grinned Lily, heading to Tarel's room.
"Well, that's nice of you," Whim smiled. "Friends from school?"
"Yeah," Lily called from Tarel's bedroom. "We haven't seen them in a while."
As she spoke, she not only put the bags with Tarel's clothes in her closet, but also a note on her bed. This note, written by Tarel, strongly resembled the one Scarred had left for his own parents, 19 years ago...
"So your shopping went well, I see," Whim said as Lily left Tarel's room, closing the door behind her.
"Yep!" Lily said happily. "We both found some good stuff."
"That's good," Whim smiled. "Have fun at your sleepover. Tell Tarel I said goodnight."
"Will do! Goodnight!" Lily said cheerfully as she left the apartment. She sighed in relief as Whim closed the door behind her. Everything was going to plan! Once she had rode the elevator back down to the lobby and walked outside, she stopped for a second to gaze up at the moon, bright and full over the city.
"Tarel... good luck..." Lily whispered, and climbed into that cab.
***
Tarel waited in the bushes for a few minutes after the taxi had pulled away. She wanted to be as sure as she could be that no one would see her.
Once she was satisfied that no one was watching, Tarel stepped out of the bushes and around the side of her grandparents' house. There were no windows on this side, and the house cast shade on this side, so there was little chance of anyone seeing her.
Opening her backpack, Tarel removed her gi, stared at it for a moment, and hung it over a low branch nearby. She hung her belts on the same branch, as well as her nunchaku. She took her roll of bandages and set them under the branch. She left her father's letter where it was, though. Not just yet...
Tarel quickly stripped of her "normal" clothes and put on her gi. She paused for a minute as she wondered 'Which of these are my normal clothes...? I spend more time in my gi than other clothes...'
She shook her head and put her clothes in her backpack. Now was not the time for such thoughts. Tarel tied her belts quickly and expertly, stuck her nunchaku in their place, smiling as they gleamed in the moonlight. She grabbed the bandages and bound her feet and paws as she'd been taught. She thought for a second, and decided the third time was the charm.
"Gothic..." she said, glaring at the horizon, "I am coming for you. My journey has begun here, at the birthplace of my father, and will end at the place of you death... I will find you... and I will-"
Tarel was suddenly blinded by headlights turning onto the street in front of her. She cursed and jumped back against the house, waiting until they passed. Another chance ruined...
Tarel sighed and sat down to meditate. It wasn't clear what time her father had left when he had started his journey, but Tarel wanted to wait until the moon was the only light in the sky.
An hour passed, and all was quiet. There were no more cars passing. No pedestrians roamed the streets. The shops downtown were closed, save for the bar. A figure, hiding in shadow, stood up slowly. It looked up to the sky, then bent over to pick up something at its feet. The object became a part of shadow as the figure seemed to make some strange gestures. The figure stepped forward...
As Tarel walked into the moonlight, backpack hanging from her shoulders, she felt the raw energy of that morning return. The moon was in her blood, and she had never felt so alive. The wanderlust was upon her.
She managed to control herself long enough to stretch out, feeling loose and limber. She executed a few kicks and twirls. Tarel grabbed her nunchaku from her belt, and they whirled through the air, a silver blur, as she spun them around her body, under her arms, over her shoulders and between her legs. Stopping suddenly in a striking position, she took a few deep breaths and put her nunchaku back in her belts.
Gathering herself, Tarel crouched low to the ground like a sprinter on the blocks... and took off.
She sprinted all-out under the moonlight, joyously alive. She had never felt so indescribably good before. There was nothing but her and the road. The moon shone down for her alone, showing her the way. Her father smiled on her from above, lending her strength. There was her father beside her, a being of moonlight, racing her, goading her along...
Tarel slowed down about 15 minutes later when she saw a sign on the side of the road that told her she was only 5 miles from her destination. She was amazed at how much distance she'd covered, and in such a short time. She wasn't feeling out of breath, even.
She stopped for a moment to gaze up at the moon. "Thank you, father..." she whispered. Her eyes were watering not from wind, but with tears of joy.
Tarel set off at her usual jog, and soon came upon a farm. It could only be the one her father had visited so long ago... It was nowhere near sunrise, and Tarel had no plans to stay for a month, much less be found, but she took a detour nevertheless.
The barn was locked, but this didn't deter Tarel. She stood back, surveyed the front side for a moment, and started climbing. Her well-trained paws and feet found the holds they needed as she scaled the barn and climbed into the hayloft.
Tarel sat on the edge, as her father surely did so long ago, and looked over the fields. They really were quite a sight, bathed in silver moonlight, stretching to the horizon... Tarel took a deep breath and felt... something. Closing her eyes for a moment, she breathed in deeply and slowly.
Yes, that was it! Tarel had touched something just then, something big... She knew now what to do.
Opening her backpack, Tarel dug down to the bottom and removed the letter. She opened it slowly, and read by moonlight:
'My Dearest, Most Beloved Child-
				As I write this letter to you, you are but a tiny being in your mother's womb, not yet fully formed. When most look at you, they would see only that. But when I close my eyes, I see the most perfect creation on this planet or any other. You are a being born of love, and there is nothing more perfect than that.
	As I'm sure your mother has told you, I am no longer in this world as you read this letter. I was blessed enough to know of my demise well in advance. Some would consider it a curse to see one's death coming so far in advance, but I was grateful. It gave me time to love your mother and you to the fullest.
	I swear I will still love you, even from wherever I have gone. I will send my love down on moonbeams, and make the stars shine for you. Love is eternal, they say, and I agree.
	If you're reading this, you are probably 19 years young, the age I am now. The age I will be forevermore. It was at your age that I started the journey, as I am sure your mother has told you, that brought me to her. I discovered something else on this journey, too.
	I discovered that there is a greater Peace out there. I touched it briefly on the road, and when I met your mother, I felt closer to it everyday. I hope you can find someone to share this Peace with, as your mother and I did.
	Sweet Child of mine, your life is just beginning. Live it to the fullest. Friends are the greatest joys we can have in this world, so take care of yours. Ramen is a close second, so eat some of that, too. Remember to have fun, and always smile.
	Let's see... fatherly advice... Brush your teeth. Eat your vegetables. Be nice. Listen to your mother. Read books. Drive carefully. Most importantly, perhaps: Don't worry, be happy.
	I know if you're anything like your mother, you're a loving, caring person whose heart is always in the right place. I know if you're anything like me... well, let's just say you're lucky you're cute.
	Remember: I love you, I love your mother, and your mother loves you, and this will never change.
								           Your eternally loving father,
										              Scarred.'
A teardrop splashed onto the letter, sliding off the laminated surface as Tarel finished reading. She felt now that Peace her father had written of. She felt as if she was a part of it, a part of everything there ever was, and a part of everything still to come. She glimpsed her father on the surface of the moon, waving at her and smiling. Tarel waved back...
And it was gone. The Peace had left, but it left Tarel feeling satisfied, fulfilled. She smiled and sat for a while longer, gazing upon the stars.
***
Tarel climbed carefully down the way she had come and headed back to the road. A few quick stretches to loosen her up, and she was off for town again.
When she arrived, she was somewhat surprised to see it was just after midnight, according to the clock over the bank. She hadn't really thought she'd be so early...
As Tarel walked slowly towards the center of town, wondering what to do, a car sped past her, then suddenly stopped and reversed itself. Tarel tensed slightly, bracing for battle, if necessary. But a familiar voice came from the car as it pulled up alongside her.
"Tarel? Is that you?" A disbelieving voice said as the window opened.
"Tommy? Joey? What are you two doing here?" Tarel asked, looking in the window. Tommy and Joey were Richard and Tansy's twin boys, 16 years old.
"We were trying to get home before curfew..." the one in blue, who was driving the car, said.
"But what are you doing here? I thought you lived in the city?" the passenger, wearing a red shirt, asked.
Tarel thought quickly. She hadn't been expecting this... "Actually, I'm-"
"Running away? Cool!" the driver said excitedly.
"You got to come home with us! We'll hide you!" The passenger said, just as excited.
Tarel shrugged. Let them think what they liked. "All right, cool, thanks," she said, climbing in the backseat. "You'll have to remind me which one of you is which..." Tarel said, feeling a bit guilty.
"It's all right," the one in red laughed. "We get that all the time. I'm Joey."
"And I'm Tommy," he said, accelerating the car.
"Okay, I see..." Tarel nodded.
"This is going to be so cool!" Tommy said.
"Just like our fathers!" Joey added.
"Yeah, it kind of is, isn't it?" Tarel smiled. "But how are you two going to sneak me in?"
They were silent for a few moments as they thought. Tarel waited, bemused.
"Well... there's the tree-house..." Joey said slowly.
"Yeah. We have sleeping bags, too..." Tommy added, warming to the idea.
"Well, that should work then," Joey said, nodding.
"Throw them out the window?" Tommy asked.
"Would be best, yeah..." Joey agreed.
By this time, they were pulling into the driveway of the twins' house. "What's the plan, then?" Tarel asked as the car came to a stop.
"You'll have to sleep in the tree-house, unfortunately..." Tommy said regretfully.
"But we can get you a sleeping bag!" Joey continued cheerfully.
"Right. We'll throw it out Joey's window for you," Tommy explained.
"We'll also need a coin, though..." Joey added.
"What for?" Tarel asked, confused. "Do I have to pay to get into the tree-house?"
"Nope, but we have to flip to see who gets to protect you tonight..." grinned Tommy.
Tarel punched both brothers in their arms. "Nice try," she smiled. "But I think we all know who here would win in a fight..."
Tommy and Joey rubbed their arms and laughed. "Sorry, Tarel..."
"I'll hide in here for a few minutes while you two get inside," Tarel said. "Then we'll meet at the window."
The brothers nodded and got out of the car. Tarel waited until the porch lights went off a few minutes later, then quietly opened the car door, got out, locked the car, and closed the door. Sticking to the shadows, she slipped around the back of the house and waited by the two windows.
Soon, the one on her left opened, and Joey poked his head out. "Here you go," he smiled, tossing a rolled-up sleeping bag to Tarel. He then started to climb out.
"What are you doing?" asked Tarel suspiciously.
"I won the coin toss," he explained.
Tarel laughed and pushed Joey back into the house. "Nice try! Get back in there."
"Aww," he moaned, but closed the window.
Tarel shook her head as she made her way to the backyard tree-house. She and the twins had grown up seeing each other quite a bit, and they always got along well. Recently, it was sometimes hard to tell if they were joking with her when they flirted or not. She hoped she wouldn't have to break either of their hearts. When she had told Lily about the twins, Lily had suggested that Tarel just date both. Tarel had rolled her eyes and laughed.
The tree-house itself was in good repair, a relic of their childhood days. She and the twins, and sometimes other neighborhood kids, had used it often in one game or another. The "ladder" was just a series of planks nailed to the tree, and the house itself was a simple shack, but cozy.
Tarel reflected on some of her memories of this place as she rolled out the sleeping bag and laid it on the floor. She removed her belts and set her nunchaku within easy reach of the sleeping bag, and removed her gi, folding it up nicely. Clad in naught but her undergarments, she climbed into the sleeping bag.
Reflecting on all that had happened to her that day, Tarel drifted off to sleep.
***
Tarel was awoken in the morning by pebbles pelting her in the head. Pulling herself over to the window, still wrapped up in the sleeping bag, Tarel poked her head out and saw the twins down below with pawfuls of pebbles. They dropped them and tried to look innocent as they saw her.
"What do you two want?" Tarel asked. "Shouldn't you be in school?"
"It's Saturday," they said simultaneously.
"Well then, shouldn't you be sleeping?" Tarel asked grumpily.
"It's 11 o' clock!" the one on the right said.
"So?"
"So, that's, like... kind of late..." the one on the left said, as if it were obvious.
Tarel sighed. "Fine! Let me get dressed, and I'll come down!"
'That should get them going...' Tarel thought, smiling as she turned away from the window.
"...Hot," one muttered.
"...Totally," the other agreed.
"What was that?!" Tarel yelled dangerously as she pulled on her gi.
"Nothing...!" they yelled guiltily.
Tarel tied her belts around her waist, went over to the window, and leaned out. "That's what I thought I heard..." she said, glaring at the boys.
They said nothing and stared dutifully at her eyes until she turned around again. Their approximate thoughts relating to Tarel's appearance were then articulated by paw gestures and mouthing the words until they heard the door open. They snapped their hands back down to their sides and tried not to blush as she came down the ladder. They'd seen her in action with those nunchaku, and had no desire to feel them in action.
Tarel glared at the boys a little more just to make them feel guilty, and then said "Thanks for the help. See you later."
As she turned and started walking away, the twins caught up with her, walking on either side of her as they talked.
"Wait, where are you going?" The one on her right asked.
"You can't just leave yet," protested the other one.
"I've got some business to attend to in town," Tarel said, continuing to walk.
"Um, can we help?" The boy on her left asked.
"Nope," Tarel said simply.
"But you haven't even had breakfast!" The boy on the right said, a bit desperately.
"I'll pick something up," Tarel shrugged.
They boys stopped in their tracks, unable to think of anything else to stall her.
"Well... see ya, then," one said
"Yeah, bye..." the other said.
They watched her go, enjoying the view from behind...
Until Tarel turned around and caught them at it. She glared at them again until, blushing, they looked away. Tarel laughed to herself as she turned back around. That was so much fun...
Joey and Tommy waited until they were sure Tarel wasn't going to catch them, and bumped fists.
***
Tarel knew the bookstore served things like muffins, bagels and coffee, so that's where she jogged to next. Before she went in, she tucked her nunchaku into a pocket inside her gi she had made for them, so as to not freak anyone out. She ignored the stares she got as she walked into the store and up to the counter in the refreshment area.
After she had paid for an overpriced bagel and orange juice, Tarel sat down at a table with a newspaper and started reading as she slowly ate breakfast. As she read an article called "The Price of Convenience", which seemed to be about companies pricing methods when it came to certain items, another familiar voice called her name.
"Tarel, dear! What are you doing here?" The cheerful voice asked.
Tarel turned around, smiling. "Aunt Arctic! Good to see you!"
'Aunt Arctic' was an arctic fox whose real name was 'Pepper'. When Tarel had been young and learning about the other species on the planet, she had once called her 'Aunt Arctic'. Everyone had thought the nickname rather amusing, and it had stuck.
Tarel asked as she stood up "How are you doing today? How's Aunt Bea?"
"We're both good, thank you," Aunt Arctic smiled, embracing Tarel. "How're you and your mom?"
"I'm fine, she's fine," smiled Tarel, hugging her Aunt Arctic back. "Glad to hear you and Aunt Bea are doing well."
"Good to hear it," Aunt Arctic said happily. "You get our birthday card yet?"
"No, but it'll probably come today, I'm sure," said Tarel, shaking her head. "I'll thank you in furson, I guess."
"I won't ruin the present for you, then," Aunt Arctic laughed. "But I will say you're welcome. You in town for the day?"
Sure, why not, Tarel decided. "Yeah, just thought I'd stop in here to browse and say hello."
"Bea will be so happy to see you," gushed Aunt Arctic, leading Tarel back to Bea's office. "It's been... what, six months?"
Tarel nodded as she followed. "Yeah, around there."
They had reached Bea's office by this time. "I'll leave you two to catch up," Aunt Arctic said and departed.
Tarel knocked on the door and waited until she heard "Come in!".
Opening the door and stepping in, she smiled and said "Hey, Aunt Bea!"
Bea looked up from her paperwork, smiling. "Tarel! Great to see you!"
Tarel closed the door behind her and hugged Bea. "Your foxy lady said you'd be in here," she smiled.
Bea laughed at their old joke, saying "She must have known I was just thinking about you."
"Really?" Tarel asked curiously. "Nothing bad, I hope?"
"About you? Of course not!" Bea chuckled, shaking her head. "No, Francis has been calling up all of us, talking about his new play. He mentioned you and your mom would probably want to see it."
"Oh, I see," Tarel said, thinking. "Mom hadn't mentioned anything about it yet..."
"Oops!" Bea gasped, putting her paws over her mouth. "Maybe it was supposed to be a surprise..."
"It's okay," Tarel said comfortingly. "She was probably going to mention it and just forgot, is all."
"Well, if she doesn't say anything about it, you didn't hear it from me..." smiled Bea.
Tarel chuckled and said "Of course not. Our lips are sealed..."
Bea laughed at that, and the two talked for a while longer. Eventually, Bea's watch beeped.
"Whoops, where does the time go?" she said, looking at it. "Me and Pepper are going to grab some lunch. You want to come?"
Tarel shook her head. "No thanks, that's alright. I just had breakfast before Aunt Arctic saw me. I was thinking about popping in to visit Uncle Francis, actually."
"Another time, then," Bea nodded. "I think Francis is down at the theatre... as usual."
Tarel smiled and embraced Bea again. "Thank you, Aunt Bea. You and Aunt Arctic have fun on your lunch date."
"Will do," chuckled Bea, hugging Tarel back.
Tarel opened the door, letting Bea step through first, and walked alongside her, waving to her Aunt Arctic on the way out.
"Bye Aunt Arctic! See you two later!" Tarel called.
"Bye, Tarel! Have a good day! Tell your mom we said hello!" Aunt Arctic called back, smiling and waving.
"I'll tell her!" Tarel promised.
'Whenever I next see her...' she added silently as she left the store. She set off at a jog for the community theatre. Even if she couldn't get in to see Francis, she would at least try to let him know she had stopped by.
Francis, in the years following Scarred's death, had become an increasingly famous thespian in the country, but he always returned to his hometown between plays. He had even written a few himself, to critical acclaim. When he could, he gave performances of the plays he was currently acting in right in the theatre he had gotten his start in, inviting all his old friends and giving them free tickets.
Tarel arrived shortly, made sure her nunchaku were concealed but ready to access, should the need arise. It hadn't yet, but Tarel rather hoped it would soon. She walked in through one set of double doors on the front of the building into the foyer. Velvet ropes were stretched across the entrance to the lobby, but Tarel just ignored them and hopped over.
Quietly and slowly opening the doors to the theatre itself, Tarel slipped in. She silently padded down the aisle between rows of seats. The stage was lit up and the curtains drawn, as if in anticipation of a performance. There were several furs sitting in the front row. Tarel guessed that they were reporters of some type, judging by their equipment: notebooks, writing utensils and other such paraphernalia.
Tarel gave them a friendly smile and wave as she climbed the stairs to the stage and slipped behind the curtain. There were a number of furs of all sorts bustling around. Some were setting up scenery, some were pushing racks of costumes, and others carried boxes of this or that. In the general flurry of activity, no one found Tarel's presence remarkable. She grabbed a bouquet of flowers from a nearby table to blend in and made her way back to the dressing rooms.
Tarel found the one with Francis' name on the door and knocked.
"Who is it?" a familiar voice asked from inside. "I'm a bit busy..."
"It's your favorite niece!" Tarel said cheerfully.
The door was opened scarcely a second later, and there stood Francis, smiling broadly. "Tarel! It's great to see you!"
"It's great to see you, too, Uncle Francis!" Tarel smiled as they hugged.
"You simply must come in," Francis said graciously, stepping aside.
"Thank you," Tarel said, walking into the dressing room.
"You're a day early, silly girl," Francis said, wagging his paw at her. "The play doesn't officially premiere until tomorrow night."
Tarel wasn't sure which play he was talking about, but simply said "Oh, I know, but I just couldn't wait. I had to come see you today."
"Trying to get a sneak peek, I wager," smiled Francis. He frowned slightly, saying "Well, I really shouldn't..."
"I'll buy you some chocolate..." offered Tarel teasingly.
Francis laughed. "You know me too well, Tarel. I was going to let you stay anyway, but the chocolate just sweetens the deal."
Tarel chuckled and said "Dang, there goes my dollar!"
"Just think of it as a donation to the arts," Francis smiled. "Happy birthday, by the way. Did my card arrive yet?"
Tarel shrugged. "It probably arrived today, but I haven't seen it yet. I'll just go ahead and say thank you while I'm here, though."
"You are most assuredly welcome," bowed Francis. "It's the least I can do for my favorite niece."
A knock came at the door and a voice called "5 minutes until curtain, sir!"
"Thank you!" Francis called back, straightening up. He looked to Tarel and said "I'll see you out there, I trust?"
"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Uncle Francis," Tarel smiled.
"If one of those reporter-types gets in your way, tell them your Uncle Francis said to shove over!" Francis said as Tarel turned to go.
"Will do!" Tarel laughed, leaving the dressing room with a wave. She slipped back through the crowd and out into the auditorium.
Tarel took her place in the center of the second row, kicked back and relaxed. This, she was sure, was going to be good...
***
Lily sighed happily. Lunch was in the air... Or at least the smell of it.
She was lying on her bed, feet idly kicking the air as she reread an old Redwall book of hers. She was wearing a dark green shirt she had picked up on the shopping trip yesterday and black denim shorts. She never tired of the Redwall series, it seemed. Especially those brawny otters... rawr!
Even as she thought that, though, Lily's mind wandered back to the ferret guard she'd seen at the bus station yesterday. He was not only cute, but had actually noticed her! She giggled, and her mind wandered further from her book.
She would go to the bus station again and pretend to be lost. He would notice her and come over. 
He'd be very professional as he said "Excuse me, miss, do you need help finding something?"
She would play the part of the distressed damsel and say "Oh, yes, please... I was hoping you could show me to the phone booths..."
"Of course, miss," he would smile, "just follow me."
Lily would follow him over to the conveniently unoccupied phone booth, watching his butt sway as he walked.
"Here we are, miss," he would say as they arrived, bowing slightly. "Is that all I can help you with?"
She would giggle coyly, a light blush coloring her cheeks as she pulled him by the paw into the phone booth with her. "There's just one more thing..."
"Oh? What would that be, miss?" he would ask, blushing.
"My mouth is so dry... might I ask for a piece of gum?"
"I've got a better idea..." he would say gently, leaning close to her.
She would pucker her lips as his came nearer...
"Lily!" Marcia called from the kitchen, "Lunch time!"
Her fantasy forgotten, Lily dropped her book and hurried to the kitchen. "Thanks, Mom!" she said happily.
As she sat down and looked at the food before her, she was sure it was going to be good!
***
Tarel was crying.
Were they tears of Joy? Tears of sorrow? Did it matter?
It was only intermission, but she was already a melting pot of emotions. Considering the subject matter, though, she wasn't surprised she felt so mixed-up. Francis' newest work was called Scarred For Life, and it was about none other than his old friend and Tarel's father, Scarred.
It was a biographical work, telling the story of Scarred's life. It focused mainly on his nineteenth, and last, year. Francis himself had taken on the role of his old friend, fully intending to do him honor. Excepting himself, Francis had cast thespians the same species (or as close as he could come) to all of the important furs in Scarred's life, including himself.
Francis had evidently spent quite a bit of time talking with his old friends about Scarred, collecting their anecdotes and memories to weave together the pieces of his life. Tarel learned of some events she hadn't heard about (had her father and Francis really bickered so much?), and learned more about some she'd heard before. The intermission was just before Scarred was going to tell Francis about his journey, if Tarel remembered the stories correctly.
Tarel could see many of the reporters wiping their eyes and noses, too. They may not have known Scarred, but they were touched by his story nonetheless. They scribbled noted during the intermission, checking pocket dictionaries and thesauri for suitable words. They seemed overall impressed with the quality of the production, too.
As intermission ended, everybody was back in their seats, eager for the show to go on. Tarel had scrubbed her face in the bathroom to refresh herself, and was feeling ready to face the rest of the story. The curtains opened to a long, moonlit road, and Francis, acting as Scarred, began his voice-over
"Well, you see, Francis, I love my parents, I really do, but they were kind of smothering me, you know? So one night, I filled a backpack with clothes, a pot, bottles of water, and ramen..."
***
It was fully an hour before Lily finished eating, and what a full hour it had been! Her mother had made a veritable smorgasbord of food once again, and Lily had, of course, tried more than just some of everything.
'That Recipe Digest magazine is surely the best thing that's happened to us recently!' Lily thought as she lay on her bed, resting after her meal and reading her Redwall book again, holding it above her head. She was, perhaps, exaggerating a little, but the variety of recipes in the magazine had certainly spiced up her family's lives, really broadened their horizons.
Lily finished a chapter and set down her book. It was time to put her own addition to the plan in action. Tarel's original plan called for her mother to find the note she had left after she failed to show up at home the night after she supposedly stayed over at Lily's house. Lily would have then explained she had covered for Tarel, so that Tarel could follow in her father's paw prints, but not the 'revenge' scheme.
Lily's revised plot was to call Whim and inform her that Tarel and herself had been invited to another slumber party with several more of their friends, effectively covering for Tarel for another night... ideally. Lily couldn't think of any likely reasons her plan wouldn't work, so she picked up her phone and dialed.
Lily heard the phone ring a few times before it was picked up.
"Hello?" Whim greeted.
"Hi, Whim, it's Lily!" she said cheerfully.
"Hi Lily!" Whim said happily. "What's up?"
"Well, Tarel and I were wondering something..." Lily said, a bit shyly.
"Go on," Whim encouraged her, "I'm listening."
"Well, we got invited to a slumber party by a friend, and we were wondering if we could go...?" Lily said, turning the statement into a question almost as an afterthought. She added "There's going to be a bunch of girls there, don't worry."
Whim sighed. "Actually, we have somewhere to be tomorrow... I hadn't told Tarel, yet..." she said regretfully.
"Oh, hold on. I'll tell her," Lily said. She covered the mouthpiece of the phone. She hadn't thought of this! What could she do...? Unless...
Taking her paw away from the mouthpiece, Lily said "I told Tarel, but she wanted me to ask you if she could meet you wherever you needed to go tomorrow, and still spend the night?"
Whim considered this for a few seconds. "All right..." she said hesitatingly, "But tell her she needs to meet me at her Uncle Richard's house by four in the afternoon at the latest, okay?"
"Can do! I'll make sure she's there," Lily said, relieved. "Thanks for letting us go, too!"
"You're welcome. By the way, why didn't Tarel call me herself? She too nervous?" Whim asked teasingly.
"Oh, uh, no..." Lily said, thinking quickly, "She's... freshening up in the washroom... we just had lunch."
"All right, I see," Whim said. "Tell her I said I love her, will you please?"
"I will," Lily promised. "She said she loves you, too."
"Thank you, Lily. You two have fun, and I'll se you later," Whim said with a smile in her voice.
"We will! Bye!" Lily said, hanging up the phone.
'Whew, that was close...' she sighed to herself. Then she realized 'But now I've got to warn Tarel! It might take some time to find her, so I'd better be going...'
Lily rolled off her bed and grabbed her old school book bag from her closet. She put in a change of clothes and her purse, then walked out to the kitchen cupboards. She grabbed several bags of  chips and some sandwich supplies. She put the chips in her backpack and her backpack on the floor.
She took the sandwich supplies over to the counter and made herself a couple dozen sandwiches, which she then put in her knapsack. She cleaned up her mess, put the sandwich supplies away, and zipped her bulging backpack shut. Looking around for her mother, Lily found her sitting in the living room, scanning Recipe Digest for ideas for supper.
"Mom!" Lily called from the kitchen "Tarel and I got invited to a slumber party tonight! We're going to go meet up now, okay?"
"Okay!" Marcia called back, smiling at her daughter, "Have fun! Don't forget to eat!"
"See you tomorrow!" Lily waved as she left the apartment.
Once she was in the hallway, she relaxed a little. 'Well, that's one more thing off my plate,' she sighed to herself as she headed for the elevator. Once she was safely out of the building, she knew she had to hurry. Hailing a taxi, she climbed in and directed the driver to go to the bus station.
Lily felt nervous, and when she felt nervous, she usually ate. But she was too full from lunch to munch on anything, so she settled for bouncing her leg up and down. The taxi ride wasn't very long, but time distorted strangely for Lily, going by fast one second, and every minute an hour the next.
She jumped out of the taxi hurriedly when it pulled up to the bus station, paid the driver, and walked off quickly to get her ticket. When she had paid her fare, Lily sat down in one of the hard plastic seats (made slightly more comfortable, she had to admit, by her own cushioned seat) to wait. Again, she felt she had to bounce her leg and even rub her paws together to relieve some of her nervous energy.
"Are you all right, miss? You appear to be distressed..." she suddenly heard a voice say.
Looking up, Lily could see she had caught the eye of the cute guard once again. She blushed as she said "Oh, sorry. I'm fine, really... just a bit nervous..."
"Not about riding the bus, surely?" The guard smiled.
Lily laughed a little. "No, not that. I've just got a pretty cliché-sounding situation going on right now, is all."
"Well, if it's so cliché, you shouldn't be so nervous," the guard chuckled, "because it should be obvious everything will turn out just fine, right?"
Lily chuckled, too, even as she could feel her blush deepen. "I guess you're right. I hadn't thought about it that way before."
"Listen..." the guard said nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, "I, uh... I get off duty in a few minutes... would you mind if we talked a bit more...?"
Lily smiled, noticing the guard's blush. "I'd like that..."
The guard's grin widened, and he seemed relieved. "Okay, cool! I'll, uh- I'll be back in a few..."
Lily giggled quietly and hugged herself as the guard walked away. This was so cool! She'd found a really cute guy to talk with, and he seemed to like her, too. The thought of her earlier fantasy returned to her, and she giggled again. Her bus wasn't scheduled to arrive for another 15 minutes... plenty of time, she hoped.
The guard returned, as promised, just a few minutes later, dressed not in his uniform, but in "everyday" clothes, a blue shirt and black denim shorts. He acted much less professional and much more like the nervous young man he actually was as he sat down next to Lily.
"Hi again... I'm Felix," he smiled, sticking his paw out to shake.
"Hello, Felix. I'm Lily," Lily introduced herself as she took his paw. She felt an electric shock as they touched, and instinctively pulled her paw back.
Felix had evidently felt it, too, for he had reacted in the same way as Lily. "Oh, sorry!" he blushed, "I must have given you a shock there..."
"It's alright," Lily smiled, blushing as well, "and if anything, it's my fault. These plastic seats, you know..."
Felix smiled back, and Lily felt quite giddy all of a sudden.
"So, you said you were in a cliché-sounding predicament?" Francis asked.
Lily nodded and said "Yeah. My friend kind of left town for a couple days without her mom knowing, but now her mom's going to wind up in the same place that my friend is, but my friend doesn't know her mom's coming, which isn't what I told her mom. So now I've got to get to where my friend is and find her and warn her before her mom shows up tomorrow and we both get in trouble..."
Felix thought over what Lily had said and smiled again. "I think I've heard something like that before, somewhere..."
Lily chuckled, saying "I wouldn't be surprised. Life imitates art, as they say..."
Felix nodded. ".....and art imitates life," he finished. He then shyly said "It sounds like, um... like you could use some help..."
Lily smiled coyly and blushed again. "Maybe I could, at that... my friend could be anywhere in town..."
"You know, I'm studying to be a police officer," Felix said, boasting a little.
"Ooh, that's cool!" Lily grinned. "With your help, I'm sure we could find her in no time..."
"It will be my pleasure as an officer and a gentleman to assist you in this matter, Miss Lily," Felix said formally, bowing at his waist and offering a paw to Lily.
Lily, giggling, put her paw on Felix's. "As a damsel in distress, I will be more than happy to accept your help in this matter, Officer Felix."
Felix gently kissed Lily's paw and stood up, saying, "Shall we depart then, fair lady?"
"Depart we shall, good sir," smiled Lily, standing up.
The two walked paw-in-paw to the ticket booth, releasing each other only briefly so that Felix could purchase a ticket. After that, they took each other's paw again and ambled off to the bus. There was a short wait until boarding time, but for Lily and Felix it passed quickly as they enjoyed each other's company.
Once they boarded, they took a seat together near the back of the bus. They had each other, and that was enough...
***
Tarel was in tears again, and she wasn't the only one.
The last two scenes of the play had been Scarred's death and funeral. His death, as no one seemed to know what really happened that night, was represented as such:
Scarred in his boxers, calmly awaiting the source of the approaching noise. The door crashed open, but there was only blackness beyond it.
Scarred, looking at someone only he could see, raised his chin defiantly and smiled.
Thunder crashed and the lights went out, plunging the stage into blackness.
A quick scene change brought them to Scarred's funeral. His closest friends gathered round his coffin, weeping openly as they left their offerings. The coffin was closed, and the mourners left in a huddle. The stage was empty but for Scarred's coffin as the lights slowly faded to a dim glow and the curtains closed.
Tarel and the reporters had given the cast a standing ovation, clapping as loud as an audience more than twice their number. Furs sniffled and wiped their noses, touched by the performance. The cast came out and bowed to thank the audience for their applause.
Now, as the reporters packed up their pens and notebooks and other paraphernalia, Tarel went backstage again to talk with her Uncle Francis. The thespians were gathered in a group, congratulating each other and embracing.
Francis spotted Tarel standing awkwardly off to the side and waved her over. "Tarel, my dear! Come on over! My fellow thespians here would be delighted to meet you."
Tarel joined the group, and they introduced themselves. They seemed to consider it an honor to meet her. She had her paw shaken many times and was hugged even more. Thespians were an affectionate group, it seemed.
After the introductions had been made, Francis said "You simply must come celebrate with us, Tarel. We're all going to unwind after our performance, and we would be honored if you'd join us."
Tarel felt she could hardly refuse, even if she wanted to. "Of course! It would be my honor to join you..."
The group cheered, and they all set off for Francis' house, the pre-arranged party destination.
***
Meanwhile, Lily and Felix had just arrived in town on the bus. They departed and sat on a bench outside the bus station, staring at a map of the town and wondering where to start.
"We may as well start walking around downtown, see if we find anybody who's seen her..." Felix mused aloud as Lily emptied the last few crumbs from a bag of chips into her mouth.
Lily swallowed and agreed. "That sounds like a good idea! You're quite the detective, Felix..."
Felix blushed at the compliment. "Oh, it's nothing, really... but thank you, Lily."
They stood up and started walking towards the downtown district a couple blocks away, Lily tossing the empty chip bags from her backpack into a garbage can they passed. She and Felix had shared one bag of chips on the bus ride, and then Felix had watched shyly as Lily had eaten a few more. Despite Felix's presence, Lily was still nervous about the whole plan.
As Lily and Felix walked and talked, swinging the paws they held together, they passed a variety of stores and restaurants, stopping at each to look inside for Tarel. They were just checking inside the arcade when Lily recognized a couple of the patrons.
"Tommy! Joey!" she said happily, "You two are here?"
Both boys, currently beating on each other in a game of "Immortal Conflict", looked over.
"Lily? What are you doing here?" the twin wearing red asked, confused.
The other twin, in blue, took advantage of his brother's momentary distraction to win the game by punching him so hard his internal organs were forcibly made external. "HA! You lose, Joey! Sucker!"
Tommy turned to Lily, smiling, and said "Hi, Lily!"
"What?!" Joey turned around, glaring at his brother. "You cheated, you jerk!"
"I didn't cheat," Tommy said innocently. "You just suck."
"I suck?" Joey asked, offended, "You're the one who's lost every other match today."
"It's not my fault you can't keep your eyes off the ladies..." Tommy said, rolling his eyes.
"You hypocrite! As I recall, Tarel wasn't just yelling at me this morning..." Joey said angrily, poking his brother in the chest.
"Yeah, well at least I-" Tommy began, before being cut off by Lily.
"Wait, wait!" she cut in, waving her paws. "Time out. You two saw Tarel? When was this?"
"Yeah, we did," Joey nodded. "She spent the night in our tree-house."
"She left about 11 o' clock this morning," Tommy added.
"Did she say where she was going?" asked Lily, excited to have found a clue.
"Not really. She just said she was heading downtown," Joey said, shaking his head.
"She said she had some business to attend to," nodded Tommy.
Lily was too busy thinking this over to say anything else just yet, so Felix said smoothly "Thank you for the information. It will be most helpful."
"You're welcome," the twins said in unison.
As Felix led Lily, who was deep in thought, out of the arcade, Joey and Tommy picked up where their argument had left off.
"Well, at least I wasn't the one she had to forcibly stop from 'guarding' her last night..." Tommy said.
"You're just mad you lost the coin toss, just like you lost the game today," sniffed Joey.
The rest of their argument was cut off as the door swung closed behind Lily and Felix. Felix led Lily to a nearby bench and helped her sit down as she thought. He was pretty excited himself. His first unofficial investigation was coming along great! And he had an attractive girl at his side, too...
"Ah! That's it!" Lily suddenly said, snapping her head up. "I think I know where Tarel likely went!"
"Enlighten me, love?" Felix asked, smiling.
"When did you suddenly become British?" laughed Lily, noticing Felix's abrupt accent.
"Oi, Oi've been British this 'ole time, love!" Felix went on in his British accent. "Oi've jus' been 'iding it, you see."
"Really?" Lily smiled, obviously not buying it. "Why, pray tell, would you need to do that?"
Felix looked around, as if to make sure no one was watching them, and leaned closer to Lily, whispering "Oi don't want everybody finding' out Oi'm actually the great-great-grandson of Sherlock 'Olmes, see..."
Lily laughed again and pushed Felix away lightly. "Sherlock Holmes was a fictional character, you knucklehead."
"That's jus' what me family wants everybody to think..." Felix nodded. "The books about 'im were actually autobiographies, you see, but 'e didn't want Moriarty or 'is other rivals to figure that out, so 'e wrote them under the name of Arthur Conan Doyle, to throw everybody off."
"All right," Lily said, amused, "why does the great-great-grandson of the world's second-greatest detective want to help little old me?"
"Second-greatest?" Felix said indignantly, his accent wavering for a split-second. "Jus' who do you think the world's greatest detective is, love?"
"Batknight, of course," Lily said matter-of-factly.
"You read Batknight?" Felix asked joyfully, his accent forgotten. "That's awesome! I love Batknight!"
"Me too!" Lily practically squealed. "Remember the issue where- wait, we're getting distracted, here..."
She shook her head and said "All right, we'll talk graphic novels later. Let's focus on finding Tarel now."
Francis smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, my fault. I couldn't help it."
"It's fine," Lily said, smiling at Felix reassuringly. "Anyway, Fe-locks Holmes, I was going to say that Tarel quite possibly went to the bookstore earlier. Two of her "aunts" work there, and she might have stopped in to say hi, or ask them something."
Felix grinned at the nickname and said "That sounds plausible. Good thinking... love."
"Don't get ahead of yourself," laughed Lily. "One step at a time."
"Well, we'd best start stepping to the bookstore, then, hadn't we?" Felix said cheerfully, standing up and offering his paw to Lily.
Lily took his paw and began pulling herself up. "I think you're-"
Felix, ill-prepared for Lily's full weight, tumbled over. Lily sat down hard as Felix fell right into her lap.
They stared at each other for a moment or two, blushing, before Felix hurriedly scrambled to his feet.
"Sorry! My fault!" he said sheepishly. "I wasn't paying enough attention. Sorry."
"Actually, I'm the one who should be apologizing," Lily said, shaking her head. "I shouldn't have put all my weight on you like that."
"Oh no no," Felix protested, "you were fine. I was the one who was at fault, really."
"If you insist," Lily said, surrendering, "I'll be the bigger fur and let you take all the blame."
"Um... thank you?" Felix said, slightly confused. He scratched his head.
"Anytime," chuckled Lily, standing up. "Shall we go?" She offered her paw to Felix.
Felix took it with a smile. "Let us go, fair lady."
Paw-in-paw once again, Lily and Felix made their way to the bookstore a few blocks away. They were each excited by the other's professed knowledge of Batknight, and wondering what other superheroes the other might know about. They were glad to have found something in common to base at least a friendship on.
They arrived at the bookstore and headed in. Like her friend, there was just something about books Lily loved... brawny otters and men in tights, perhaps? Felix, who was a little taller than Lily, was peeking over the tops of shelves to see if he could find either the badger or arctic fox he was told to look for. Lily was walking through the aisles on the other side of the store to look for her friend's aunts.
Lily and Felix met back up at the back center of the store, apparently unsuccessful.
"Didn't see either of them," shrugged Lily helplessly.
"Me neither," Felix shook his head. "Could they have gone home for the day?"
Lily frowned. "I suppose they could have. Obviously, I was hoping-"
"Lily! Is that you, dear?" A voice suddenly hailed.
Lily looked to the left and saw just who she'd been looking for. "Aunt Arctic! Hi!" She waved.
As Aunt Arctic approached, Felix grinned. What good luck they were having today!
Lily and Aunt Arctic embraced briefly as they met up. "Aunt Arctic, this is Felix. Felix, this is Aunt Arctic."
"Pleasure to meet you... Aunt Arctic, was it?" Felix said politely, holding out his paw to shake.
"That's what they call me," smiled Aunt Arctic graciously, taking Felix's paw. "Tarel gave me that nickname when she was but young, and we all rather liked it, so it stuck," she explained.
"Ah, I see," Felix smiled. "That is pretty funny."
"Speaking of Tarel," Lily began, "Have you, by chance, seen her today? We're trying to catch up with her."
Aunt Arctic smiled and nodded earnestly, saying "Oh, yes! She came by here just about 11 o' clock, or so, and stayed to talk for a while. She left about lunch time, but I'm not sure where she went. You'll have to ask Bea about that..."
"Thank you, Aunt Arctic!" Lily said happily, rushing off to Bea's office.
Felix stayed behind for a few seconds to bow and lightly kiss the back of Aunt Arctic's paw. "Thank you, ma'am. You've been most helpful," he said in a stately fashion, winking.
Aunt Arctic blushed and giggled. "You're most welcome, young sir!"
Felix trotted off to catch up with Lily, who was knocking at Bea's office door. "Miss Bea?" she called.
"Come in," came the voice from inside.
Lily opened the door and walked into the office a few steps, Felix standing behind her. "Miss Bea? It's me, Lily, Tarel's friend."
"Lily! Good to see you, sweetie!" Bea said cheerfully. "And who's that young man I see behind you?"
"I'm Felix, ma'am," he said, bowing his head respectfully. "Pleasure to meet you."
"What can I do for you two?" Bea asked from her chair, looking up at Lily and Felix.
"We heard Tarel was in here earlier, and we were wondering if you'd happen to know where she went..." Lily said.
"Oh yes! Tarel came to visit for a while, and left about lunchtime," Bea nodded. "I believe she said she was going down to visit her uncle Francis at the theatre, but after that, I don't know..."
"Thank you, Miss Bea!" Lily said happily, departing quickly.
"Thank you, ma'am; you've been most helpful," Felix said politely, bowing a little.
"No problem. Glad to help," Bea smiled. "Good luck finding her, you two!"
"Thanks!" Felix and Lily called over their shoulders as they left.
As he and Lily hurried out of the store, walking quickly, Felix checked his watch. "Four o' clock... We're getting closer, at least."
Lily merely nodded, and they walked down the sidewalk towards the theatre. Each of them was feeling the weight of the situation, and the time crunch. They were still 4 hours behind Tarel, and it would be dark in a couple more. She could be anywhere in town, and no one, least of all them, would know where. If they didn't find her? If they failed their mission? Then there would be trouble, for all of them...
Lily and Felix slowed their pace as they reached the double doors on the front side of the theatre and opened them. Slipping in quietly, they could hear no signs of anyone else in the building. They pushed forward anyway, ignoring the velvet rope just as Tarel had done. The lobby was dark and empty as they went into the amphitheater to look around. A lone janitor was the only furson they could see.
"Dang it!" Lily said quietly. "I don't think she'd be here."
"Stay here; I'll go handle this," Felix said nobly.
Striding down the aisles as if her belonged there, Felix approached the janitor, while Lily watched from the doorway.
"Excuse me, sir," Felix said confidently, climbing the stairs to the stage. "Would you, by chance, have seen a young wolf girl around here, lately?"
"Why sure," the janitor, a middle-aged rat with a gruff voice said, "She left with the others about..." He checked his watch. "...an hour-and-a-half ago."
"The others?" Felix asked.
"Those actor-types. Heard them say they were going to some kind of party." The janitor said, scratching his chin.
"Do you have any idea as to where they may have gone?" Felix asked hopefully.
"Nope, sorry," the janitor said, shaking his head.
"Well, thank you for your assistance in this matter," Felix said politely before descending from the stage.
"He know where she is?" Lily asked Felix as he got close.
Felix shook his head. "He only knew that she and some actors were going to a party, somewhere. They left about an hour-and-a-half ago," he said regretfully.
Lily sighed. "Well, I guess that's it. We've hit a dead end and the trail's gone cold."
"Now, now, let's not despair just yet," Felix said encouragingly, putting his arm around Lily's shoulders. "We'll go sit somewhere and think. Perhaps we can come up with something."
Lily tried to smile, saying "Yeah, maybe you're right. A little snack might help us think more clearly."
"That's the spirit!" Felix said cheerfully.
Together, they walked slowly out of the theatre, thinking about the case and happy to be holding each other's paws. They made their way to a small diner they had spotted before and went in, Lily grabbing a seat by the window while Felix went up to order for both of them.
'If I were Tarel, where would I go after the party...?' Lily wondered, trying to see things from her friend's point of view. However, the smell of food in the air was getting a bit distracting. Try as she might, Lily couldn't just ignore her stomach at the moment.
Luckily, Felix soon returned with three large plates of homemade fries. "I don't think I can eat an entire one right now," he said apologetically, "so I think we'll have to share."
"Thank you, Felix!" Lily said happily, taking two of the plates for herself.
She and Felix simply ate for a while, Lily eager to quiet her stomach so she could think properly. As more and more of the fries disappeared, Lily's head became clearer and less cluttered. But still, she felt like she was missing something big... Something right under their noses...
"Do you know if Tarel has any other relatives in town?" Felix asked slowly, thinking.
"Of course!" Lily suddenly grinned, standing up quickly. "That's it!"
"What? What's it?" Felix asked eagerly.
"Tarel's got one more relative in town... and I know where he is!" Lily said happily. "C'mon! Grab the fries and let's go!"
Felix scooped the remaining fries onto a single paper plate and hurriedly followed Lily out the door, shoving the other plates in the trash can.
They didn't quite run, but they walked as quickly as they could, Lily excitedly eating the remaining fries.
"So who's this other relative of Tarel's?" Felix asked, holding the plate for Lily as they walked up an incline.
"Her father," Lily said simply, shoving another pawful of fries into her mouth.
"I see..." Felix said carefully, "Tarel's mother and father are... separated?"
Lily was silent for a moment. She gave Felix a sad look. "Not exactly..."
By this time, they were cresting the hill, and what Felix saw in front of them made him softly say "Oh..."
They were approaching the cemetery. It was surrounded by a wrought-iron fence, topped with spikes to keep would-be vandals and grave robbers out. The gate was open this time of day, though, for mourners to come and go as they pleased.
"Yeah..." said Lily, just as softly.
She and Felix finished the fries, threw the plate away in a nearby trash can, and, respectfully quiet, entered through the graveyard gates. They made their way slowly along the paths between the tombstones, keeping an eye out for Tarel. A few tall trees cast pleasant shade among the headstones here and there.
Lily suddenly nudged Felix and pointed silently to a figure sitting among the gravestones. It was Tarel.
Felix nodded his acknowledgement, and set off after Lily as they picked their way around the monuments.
Tarel heard them coming, but only briefly acknowledged their presence before turning back to Scarred's burial site.
Lily and Felix waited respectfully for Tarel to conclude her business. It was then Felix's turn to point something out, which Lily noted with a sad nod.
Scarred's epitaph read simply 'Loved.'
***
After her friend and the stranger accompanying her had been waiting for a few silent minutes, Tarel stood up.
"Let us first leave this necropolis..." she said quietly, without turning around.
She began to walk, and she could hear the others following her. Once they were out of the boneyard and onto the sidewalk, Tarel turned around.
Looking as normal as ever, she said happily "Hello, Lily! Who's this you've brought with you?"
"I'm Felix," he said, holding out his paw to shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you!"
"Nice to meet you, too, Felix," Tarel smiled, "I'm Tarel. But I'm sure Lily's told you that much already."
"Yes, he had to know who we were looking for," grinned Lily.
"Why are you looking for me, though?" Tarel asked, concerned. "My mom send you to help her?"
"Well, no, and that's why were here," Lily explained. "Your mom thinks we're spending the night at a friend's slumber party, she's coming to town tomorrow, and you're supposed to meet her here!"
Tarel nodded. "I'll get to that in a minute..." She turned to Felix. "What are you doing here, Felix?"
"I saw Lily looking rather distressed at the bus station, and offered her my services as a detective," Felix explained.
"A detective? Really?" Tarel asked, obviously doubtful.
"That's right!" Lily said seriously. "He's Fe-locks Holmes, great-great-grandson of the world's second-greatest detective, Sherlock Holmes!"
Tarel sighed. "Okay... First off: Sherlock Holmes is fictional; and second: Second-greatest? Who's the first?"
"Batknight!" Lily and Felix said at the same time, grinning.
Tarel facepalmed. "I- you know what, nevermind." Tarel raised her paws to forestall any interruptions and said "I already knew my mother was coming, and I already know why. That's why I need to execute the plan as soon as possible."
Felix noticed that Tarel seemed to have put an unusual emphasis on the word 'execute', but didn't say anything. Maybe that wasn't abnormal for her?
Lily nodded knowingly, catching Tarel's hint. "Well, it's good that you knew that, I guess... Your mother said she wants you at your Uncle Richard's house by no later than four in the afternoon tomorrow."
"Then that gives me..." Tarel checked her watch, "less than twenty-four hours..."
Everyone was silent for a dramatic moment.
"Well, I guess I'd better go," said Tarel. "See you later, Lily, Felix." She turned to go.
"Whoa! Waitaminute!" Lily protested, grabbing Tarel from behind. "You can't go yet!"
Felix had to admit he was slightly jealous.
"What is it, Lily?" Tarel sighed. "I've finally figured out how to execute my plan, and I'd like to get on with it..."
"You can't even spare a bit of time and get a bit to eat with us?" Lily asked, pleadingly.
'Again?!' Felix thought, shocked. 'Didn't we just eat? Lily certainly is something...' He smiled inwardly.
Tarel didn't say anything for a moment. Then she said grudgingly "Alright... I suppose I can."
"Yay!" Lily cheered.
"...I can't go anywhere if you don't let go..." Tarel said flatly.
"Sorry!" Lily blushed, letting go of Tarel's waist.
Tarel turned back around, smiling again. "Shall we go, then?"
"Yes, let's," Felix nodded. He bowed elegantly. "After you, ladies..."
"Methinks you would enjoy that, wouldn't you?" Tarel laughed. "Nice try, but we'll walk next to each other."
"Why, the thought never even crossed my mind!" Francis protested, trying to sound offended.
"Because it crossed a much lower region, I'm sure," smiled Tarel.
"Hey, that's unfair!" Felix said, stung, "I can't help it if I happen to find Lily-" he stopped suddenly, clapping his paws to his mouth. Felix blushed as both girls stared at him.
"Happen to find Lily what...?" Lily teased, leaning towards Felix.
Felix kept his paws over his mouth and shook his head. He wasn't about to embarrass himself any further.
Tarel took this opportunity to remove her nunchaku from their pocket inside her gi and tuck them back into her belts.
Felix gulped nervously, eyeing the weapon, but didn't move his paws or speak up.
Tarel said "They don't just give these belts away, you know, Felix..." while Lily continued to stare.
Felix hesitated for a moment, then put his paws down. "...Hugely attractive..." he said meekly, blushing fiercely.
Lily squealed delightedly and lunged forward, latching onto Felix. "Thank you! You're pretty handsome yourself..."
Felix didn't respond, as there was currently no breath in his lungs. He was breathless not from the force of Lily's grip, though it was a bit crushing, but from the reality of the hug itself. 'Wow...' he thought.
"Shall we continue?" Tarel smiled, amused.
"Sounds good! Let's go, Felix!" Lily said happily, taking Felix by the paw.
Felix didn't say anything, but trailed along after Lily like a love-struck child, a dopey smile on his face.
They started walking again, heading for the closest concentration of restaurants.
"I don't think Felix is really here with us at the moment..." Tarel said after a couple minutes, bemused.
Lily smiled, nodding her agreement. "We could probably do just about anything we wanted to him, and I don't think he'd notice..."
Tarel grinned and winked at Lily, then said loudly "Lily! Put your shirt back on!"
Felix made a sort of strangled noise in his throat and fell over on the ground.
"Um... is he alright, you think?" Lily asked, trying not to laugh.
"I saw his leg twitch. He'll be fine," Tarel snickered.
"That's good," Lily chuckled, "because I haven't even started with him yet..."
"We should probably help him up, or something," said Tarel. "He looks a little weak in the knees..."
She and Lily each bent down and hauled Felix to his feet by pulling on his paws. He wobbled a little, but otherwise stood steady. Still, his expression was one of utter affection, and seemed frozen that way.
"Well, I, for one, am hungry!" Lily said cheerfully. "Let's get going!"
"Right beside you, Lily," Tarel said.
"Squishy..." Felix mumbled vaguely.
The trio continued walking, Lily and Tarel chatting, but Felix remaining mostly silent. The restaurant they chose to eat at was the local Pizza Parlor franchise. They followed the hostess to a booth, where Tarel sat on one side, and Lily sat next to Felix on the other. The girls perused the menu while Felix continued saying nothing. A waitress came to take their orders.
"I'll have a small Carnivore Special," Tarel said, handing her menu to the waitress.
"Anything to drink, ma'am?" the waitress, a slinky mink, asked huskily.
"Water will do, thanks," Tarel nodded.
"Okay. And for you, ma'am?" the waitress asked, turning to Lily.
"He and I will have 3 Herbivore Specials, large, and a pitcher of Mountain Kick, please." Lily said confidently, smiling politely at the waitress.
"I'll put in your orders now, and return shortly with your drinks. Thank you for choosing Pizza Parlor," the waitress said cheerily, slinking off, hips swaying.
Felix, like a good boy, looked nowhere near her.
"Three large pizzas?" Tarel asked Lily, surprised and amused. "I've never known you to eat that many..."
"What can I say? I guess I'm just hungry..." Lily smiled and winked, gesturing covertly to Felix.
"I see..." Tarel nodded, winking back and chuckling quietly to herself.
Their drinks soon came, and Tarel sipped slowly at her ice-water while Lily poured Felix a glass of Mountain Kick and ended up drinking the rest herself before the pizzas had arrived. Felix's own glass was only about a quarter empty by that time.
The pizzas arrived and were set on the table, Lily's other two in boxes to preserve their warmth, and the girls got started. Tarel, despite what she'd said earlier about wanting to get started, was quite hungry, and ate just as fast as Lily, who was looking to impress Felix. Felix didn't seem too hungry, or just more willing to watch Lily eat than eat himself.
They left Pizza Parlor an hour later, Tarel satisfied, Felix almost catatonically happy, and Lily more than full. There had been no leftovers to take with them, thanks to Lily.
"Where will you two go now?" Tarel asked. "Back to the city?"
"And leave you here all alone, without finding out how it all turns out?" Lily smiled. "I think not. I thought there might be a hotel in town where we could get a room- or two -for the night."
"In a town this size?" Tarel chuckled. "Closest you'll come is that motel on the edge of town..."
"That'll have to do," laughed Lily. "Felix and I will catch a taxi there."
"Alright, you do that," Tarel nodded. "I'll either catch up with you tomorrow, or see you back in the city, I suppose."
"You could stay with us tonight, Tarel..." Lily suggested, worried for her friend.
"I don't know..." Tarel said hesitantly, shaking her head. "I don't know what I plan to do... after it's done."
"Well, if you decide to... we'll leave a note on the door," said Lily.
"Alright, thanks, Lily..." Tarel said quietly. "I'll see you when I see you..." She turned to go.
"Tarel!" Lily called.
Tarel looked over her shoulder questioningly.
"Break a leg..." Lily grinned.
Tarel grinned back and walked away into the darkness, the setting sun at her back.
Lily watched her friend go and said a silent prayer to the setting sun and rising moon for Tarel's safety. She then hailed a passing taxi, helped Felix in, and got in herself.
"To the motel, please..." she said to the driver.
"Right away, miss," Charlie grinned, driving off into the sunset.
***
It was 8:30, and all was dark.
Well, almost all. A few lights still burned in the garage of the repair center. They had been left on by Gothic, because he was tinkering with his car. Tarel knew, because Tarel could see him. Tarel could see him, because she was in the garage with him.
Outside, two security guards, burly Rottweilers, lay unconscious on the ground. They hadn't heard the slight whistle of air that the feet that had knocked them out cold for the next hour had made. Tarel almost hadn't wanted to sucker-punch them... almost. But she couldn't risk them sounding an alarm.
Avoiding Gothic had been easy. There were plenty of places where no light was cast. Shadows to run through. Hide in. He was absorbed in his work, adjusting this or that, muttering to himself as many do when they think no one's listening.
Tarel had gotten a good look at the one who had killed her father. He was still muscular, after all these years. There was a scar running across one eye Tarel hadn't heard about. Mainly, he looked mean. There always seemed to be a snarl on his face, and Tarel didn't think it had anything to do with concentration. He had a kind of aura about him; one could tell just by looking at him he wasn't the most pleasant furson.
Tarel already had a plan. It included all the elements necessary for revenge: surprise, fear, loathing, time for witty banter, and the inevitable realization of the error of his ways. Oh, and poetic justice.
Tarel now took the first step: She turned off the lights. The circuit box had all the fuses and breakers clearly marked; it was a simple matter to remove only the fuses she wanted to.
"What in-?!" Gothic yelled a number of phrases and words ill-suited for print, getting up carefully. There was enough moonlight streaming in through the grimy windows for him to make his way over to the circuit box.
As Gothic tried to figure out what had happened, Tarel started the winch that held his car suspended above the floor.
Gothic cursed several more times and ran back to his car, now held just below the ceiling. There was something decidedly fishy going on here... Looking around, lips lifted in a snarl, Gothic reached into his shirt and pulled out what he always kept stashed there: his revolver. Its barrel gleamed silver in the moonlight as he turned slowly in a circle, on the lookout for anything- or anyone -suspicious.
"A gun? That's cheating!" Tarel said indignantly from the shadows.
"Show yourself, vermin! I have little patience for this..." Gothic barked out angrily, turning this way and that, trying to find the voice.
"Vermin?" Tarel chuckled from her place behind a few stacks of tires. "That's actually twice as clever as I would have expected from you, John!" Tarel peeked between the stacks, watching Gothic turn completely the wrong way. She picked up a rusty nut from a nearby bucket and lobbed it over his head. When it hit the ground, Gothic instinctively fired. The crash of the gun was nearly deafening in the enclosed space.
'That's one down, five to go...' Tarel thought grimly. She was counting the bullets in the gun. A revolver like his, no matter the caliber, had only six rounds to fire.
"Don't worry about the guards, John! They won't hear a thing!" Tarel called merrily. She decided it was time to move when Gothic actually fired in her general direction, hitting only the air over the stacks of tires in front of her.
Sticking to the shadows, Tarel ran stealthily to the other side of the shop and hid behind a car. She threw a rusty bolt over Gothic's head as she did to distract him further. He turned again, but didn't fire this time.
"How do you know that name?!" Gothic demanded angrily. "There's only one person alive who knows that name...! And she's in no condition to remember her own, much less that one."
"My little secret..." Tarel called teasingly. "Maybe if you're good, Johnny-boy, I'll tell you!" The echoes distorted her voice and the direction it came from. ]
Enraged, Gothic snapped off another shot far to Tarel's left. "I will DESTROY you!" he roared.
"Holy-! That was close..." Tarel muttered as if to herself, but loud enough, she hoped, for Gothic to hear.
Hear it he must have, for, smirking triumphantly, he marched confidently off in the direction he'd fired. "Now I've GOT YOU!" he yelled as he jumped around a stack of boxes, gun pointed out in front of him.
Tarel snickered to herself, imagining the confusion on his face, as she ran silently to another part of the garage, far away from Gothic.
"Do you, now?" she laughed.
"ENOUGH of these GAMES!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, smashing the boxes out of anger. "COME OUT NOW!"
"Put the gun down, and we can talk about this, Mr. Goethe..." Tarel said seriously, unknowingly echoing her father's words from nineteen years before.
"I WILL!" He screamed, throwing the gun off into the darkness of the garage, far away from either of them. "Now you come out, and we'll settle this the old-fashioned way...!" He removed his work shirt, so he was now wearing only his white muscle-shirt.
Tarel moved around again and stepped into a shaft of moonlight underneath a window. She stood with her back straight, feet and paws in the ready position. She glared fiercely at Gothic as he stepped into a shaft of moonlight on the other side of the garage.
Gothic glared back, then broke into raucous laughter. "A little girl?! A little girl threatening me this whole time?! Why should I even be worried?"
"Because this 'little girl' will hand you your behind... John," Tarel said, unmoved. Keeping an eye on Gothic, she nonchalantly began to stretch out as she would before a martial arts class.
Gothic snarled again. "Before I pound you into a bloody paste, tell me how you know that name, girl."
Tarel smiled sweetly. "My Mommy told me all about you, Mr. Goethe."
Gothic looked stunned. "Your mother?! No. You can't be-"
"That's right!" Tarel grinned. But there was no light in her grin, in her voice, only dark joy. "I am Tarel. Daughter of Whim. Daughter of Scarred."
Tarel slid into a fighting stance. "You killed my father. Prepare to die."
"I will break you like I broke your father!" Gothic bellowed.
Before either of them could move, a dark cloud began a slow pass over the moon outside, plunging the garage into near-total blackness. Tarel was kind of glad her father wouldn't be able to see what she was going to do next.
"I don't know about you..." Tarel laughed, smirking, "But I'm 75% cat...!"
Gothic charged forward regardless, roaring. "I've had more fights than years you've lived! You are the one who should be scared!"
Tarel was already behind him. "Really, now?" She whispered into his ear a split-second before sweeping his legs out from under him.
Tarel danced away, laughing, as Gothic hit the ground hard. He growled as he sprang up, turning around hurriedly.
Tarel lunged from the shadows at Gothic's side and delivered a crushing kick to his nose. There was a crunch, and the smell of blood filled the air.
Gothic howled in pain and swung out wildly.
Tarel ducked down low and chopped hard at the back of his knee. She rolled out of the way and sprang up a few feet away as Gothic crashed to the ground like a tree.
"Timber, wolf!" Tarel laughed. She was having fun! Her adrenaline-infused blood rushed through her veins, propelled by her pounding heart. She felt so alive! She was serving up revenge, cold and sweet!
Gothic, chest heaving, raised himself to one knee, as if he was going to propose marriage. Tarel stepped swiftly in and brought her foot crashing down on the back of his neck.
Gothic dropped like a sack of lead. He didn't rise again.
Tarel warily examined him. He was still breathing, she saw, but shallowly. His eyes were bright and clear, full of absolute hate. As Tarel watched, Gothic tried feebly to rise again. His arms and legs barely twitched.
"It appears you're paralyzed..." Tarel said, a bit sadly. "Wasn't expecting that. But, it makes what I'm going to do next all that much easier, admittedly."
Tarel looked up at the ceiling, considered for a few seconds, and then bent down and grabbed Gothic's arms. She started dragging him across the floor, sometimes glancing up at the ceiling and changing direction. The going was slow, as Gothic was nothing but dead weight.
"What... would that... be?" Gothic asked in-between breaths, his ever-present snarl pasted on his face.
"Well, they say you broke almost every bone in my father's body..." Tarel said calmly. "So I figured a little poetic justice is in order." She stopped dragging Gothic, looked at the ceiling one more time, and set his arms by his sides.
"He was... still alive..." sighed Gothic. "I hit... him until... he stopped... laughing..." There was a longer pause. "But he... still breathed... when I... left..."
It gave Tarel an odd kind of pleasure to know her father had laughed in the face of death until he could no more.
"His laugh... still haunts... me... every night..." said Gothic angrily. "I hate... him even... more... for that..."
"Good old Dad," said Tarel cheerfully. "Well, anyway, I don't have the... temperament, let's say, to break every bone in your body one by one."
"But... I thought... poetic... justice...?" asked Gothic, turning to look at her.
"Wow, you know what that means? Will wonders never cease..." Tarel shook her head in mock amazement.
"Go on... kill me... you will... be doing... my family... a favor..." Gothic said bitterly. "They... hate me... because I... try to... keep them... in line..."
"Well, I'm not surprised," Tarel said, "We're practically family, and I don't like you either!"
"Son is... a fruit... running... around with... theatre group..." Gothic continued. "Daughter is... sniveling wuss... unfit for... any boy... wife is... stupid whore... no brains..."
"Whoa, whoa. Back up a minute there, John," Tarel said, as if she hadn't heard him clearly, "Your son is a thespian?"
"So he... says... the fruit..." Gothic spat.
Tarel laughed, mostly to herself. "No wonder... wow!"
"What?" Gothic asked, glaring.
"I'm sure you probably don't even know, or care, for that matter, what play your son is doing right now?" Tarel asked, just to be sure.
"Don't know... don't care..." confirmed Gothic.
"Well, my uncle Francis... you know him, he was my father's 'boyfriend'..." here Tarel laughed a little. "He's a thespian, too, and writes plays sometimes. Guess what his newest one's about?"
Gothic didn't say anything, just continued to glare.
"Good guess, but not quite," Tarel smiled, unfazed. "His latest play is based on the last year in the life of a good friend of his..."
"Scarred..." growled Gothic.
"That's right!" Tarel nodded, still smiling. "And guess who's playing that contemptible jerk John Wolfgang Goethe? Or 'Gothic', as he liked to be called? That's right! Your son..."
Gothic here uttered a few more choice cuss words.
"No wonder he played the part so well! All he had to do was think of what you're really like!" Tarel said. "How ironic; when you finally get him to act like you, it's just that: an act."
"You going... to talk... me to... death?" Gothic growled.
"Oh, right! I did say I was going to have some poetic justice going on here, didn't I?" Tarel laughed, standing up. She took a few steps back and grabbed something hanging from the ceiling.
"Now, maybe I won't- or can’t -crush all your bones, but a car should do nicely, don't you think?" she smiled. "Any last words, John Wolfgang Goethe?"
Gothic opened his mouth.
"Uh-oh! Too slow!" Tarel said cheerfully. She pressed the 'Release' button on the winch remote in her paw.
Gothic's precious car whistled through the air for about a second before it hit the ground with a tremendous crash.
The moon came out from behind the dark cloud, reflected in the pool of spreading blood from beneath the car.
Tarel let fall the remote from her paw and the smile from her face. "It is done."
Slowly, wearily she dragged herself outside, into the moonlight. Tarel looked up to the skies, to the moon, tears in her eyes.
"Father... I have avenged you..." she whispered. "I will no longer chase dreams of violence... but wait for the everlasting Peace..."
She blinked, and through the tears she saw her father again.
Scarred nodded to his daughter, who was doing what she thought was right. This was all she could do; all anyone could do. He smiled and blew a kiss to her, to be carried on moonbeams.
Tarel reached out and caught it, sending her own back. She watched as Scarred caught hers, waved again, and faded.
As Tarel mimed planting her father's kiss on her cheek, she felt again the touch of that greater Peace.
Just like that, she was okay.
'No,' she decided. 'I am more than okay. I am young and wild! I have friends and family who love me, and whom I love. I have the moon in my blood and my whole life ahead of me!'
"I AM ALIVE!" Tarel yelled joyously, grinning ear-to-ear.
She began to run...