We find James and Zig Zag in their mid-fifties, raising the five year old son of Zig Zag's little brother Max. James' business met with disaster over ten years ago, the economy is in the gutter and Zig's just worked out a major contract, with a tiny snag she's overlooked.
       
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       Zig left the car and walked to James who waited at the front door. Stephan was hopefully hanging onto James' trousers.
       "So," James started, closing the door, "let's hear it."
       Zig hugged him and proceeded to the greatroom where she took a stance to confront him. To enhance her mental leverage she set her feet apart so that she stood a little more stable. Then, she breathed in, out, trying to find the peace of mind to say what she had to say.
       "We're broke."
       She sat down without any aplomb, splayed out in a defeated manner.
       "Again," James urged her, stepping up with a frown, "now with details."
       "Our Money. It's gone."
       "Zig?" James asked apprehensive, showing he knew perfectly well she wasn't kidding him. It was not the sort of prank she'd play on him but she wished it to be! The floorboards looked so interesting; her eyes followed a crack, down, all the way down to her toe. She forced her nail down onto the hard wood. She dare not look at James.
       "That disaster tigress orchestrated our demise, James. They," she gulped and licked her dry lips, "they... she wants you to sell your share of FastFellows."
       James' silence made her look at him. His eyes were hard. He was right, wasn't he? Since he hadn't exploded or whatever he might do, this was going well by any standard. Derisively she admitted she had not a lot of standards. He was her standard, her James! The coyote dog in front of her stood as still as a salt pillar, all his muscles pulled taut in answer to her barrage of failure. And in her mind's eye she saw the weight she was swinging to beat her love, her friend, her mate! They said the first hit didn't hurt at all, they said the second would make him wonder yet she knew he bled. The silence he spread was more than the gash she'd given him. She bled for him, willing her mouth to stop even as in her heart of hearts her mind was made up to tell him all. She launched into a sort of explanation and saw how he sometimes winced by the merest movements in his face she could read so well, as if a blow had physically landed on him. She was dismantling his dream, knowing his desire to once again stand at the helm of his own business. All his talent had been saved up for over a decade and he could, she knew it and he knew it. Yet all of that was being taken apart by her words, like many explosions from marble-clad columns of concrete his desire stood there naked in the end. It felt like a flaming beacon, hurting her eye and she averted her eyes in shame. Unprepared and loving it, she looked in the eyes of her son, her nephew. Stephan had hung around them, looking up now with a gaze that did not befit his years. "I'm here," they seemed to say and he stood looking. Just looking, drawing her in and filling her with a feeling of protection and meaning she could vaguely recall. Just as sudden she saw granddad's eyes, looking at her knowingly. Stephan made a curt nodding motion with his head, a bob to signify he had her captured and understood everything to a detail outside this world. Then he put his hand over his heart and closed his eyes, looking down. Then the young eyes opened and mischief stood there. The moment had passed, hexing her. It revived her senses and she became aware of the quiet in the room. It took quite a while and James still stood there motionless.
       He had not moved an inch since she'd started explaining so that when he finally started pacing around the room it startled her a little. The silence was oppressive even while his ticking nails broke it at regular intervals. Stephan's action, whatever it had been, had consoled the dread she'd felt and she took heart. "Say something!" she dared him.
       "Stephan, go to your room." Was all he said, commanding their son curtly.
       "He hasn't done anything, James."
       "Stephan!" James thundered and the little dog went obediently to the stairs. He looked at them in turn, deep in thought and then climbed the stairs. She saw he took a seat at the top of the stairs. It was as if a shield against James' wrath had walked away with him. His striped tail wagged into sight now and again.
       "What - did - you - do?" James hissed menacingly, slowly.
       "I couldn't know..." she tried.
       "Zig Zag Sheppard, you worked for my folly and now you... you... pull a stunt like this."
       "I did not pull anything! I got lucky and took the money is what!"
       "Do you hate yourself, huh? This can't be right, I'm hearing false. I can't believe we're arguing about money again! Haven't we learned a darned thing since last time? Tell me, Zig, tell me because I feel I'm too dumb to understand. Do you see?" finishing in a scream, "Do you Goddamn see!"
       Zig chanced a look at Stephan whose tail was swishing into sight rapidly, trying to make the emotions slow down. That little dog could do it, he shouldn't be able to. Everybody knew the ability to handle emotions were the most daunting thing a sentient being could handle. He was doing it, she could, she was an adult for crying out loud! So she faced James and straightened her back. She was in her right to rebuke him and that would work best with unexcited command.
       "That was uncalled for."
       James sighed, folding at once. "So true."
       He paced up and down the room once more. The anger had abated but his problem was eating him still. How could it not!
       "This is incredible." he raged quietly at the limit of his control, daring the air around him, frustrated. "Where am I going to conjure up those millions? And this Janine, she'll pay a fair price I'm supposed to believe?"
       James growled and balled his fists. Zig prepared, she would like to accept his beating if it would help. Her always vocal conscience tried to convince her she deserved a thrashing but at the same time nothing and no one would ever succeed in physically abusing her. Hoping for a glimpse of strength from the least expected sources she squinted at the little form atop the stairs. Stephan seemed quiet and composed. Maybe she was worrying for nothing.
       "If I give up my share," James went on regaining control, "I'm at their whim, don't you see? You will have to work day in day out with a smile plastered over your face lest your crew sniffs you out. I will have to help this Dutch idiot mangle the company. I see no way out."
       He rammed a fist onto the table "No way out! Ahhrgh!" then sagged to his knees as if spent, nursing his fist.
       "Damn," he cursed, hanging his head, "we're being played... like fools."
       Zig hardly recognized the coiled up ball of anger across from her. James didn't easily resort to violence like that. This was even worse than she'd expected. She got up and sat next to him, reaching for him.
       "Get away from me! I only bring grief!"
       He looked up with a contorted gaze, battling tears. He wasn't succeeding in shooing her, far from it. His eyes called for support and love. She had once, long, long ago chased him off. It had been about the first time they'd met and he'd nearly drowned himself in liquor. That memory surely didn't surface for a reason and she was determined to support him. On her knees, she scooted closer and with her arms wrapped around him, began rocking him softly as she whispered, "I'm so sorry... so sorry..."
       Suddenly she felt another hand on her, they both looked up to find Stephan trying to hug them too. The Stephanizer was at large, he was spending his ammunition by truckloads while hitting all targets. Zig cried tears of pure happiness and James picked him up. They stood together and James gave a humorous grunt.
       "Look at this," he said softly and at ease, "just look at this. What else matters, you tell me!"
       "Nothing," she agreed feeling all warm and put her head on his shoulder. Nothing else mattered.
       The turn for the better was answered by a growl from the nether regions, and she looked at her hungry husband with a smile.
       "This family needs some food," James offered by way of explanation, "Stephan, you want to help me make pizza?"
       Their child nodded eagerly and she saw her men set off for the kitchen.
       "Nothing else matters." She said softly, it was like a prayer.
       
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