FSE

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The story's main character is bi, so don't read if you don't want to. As ever, your thoughts and criticism are welcome so that I can get better.

Thanks for reading!

• Xi

All's Fair - Part 5

I got a little loaf of bread and a thick slice of ham at the grocery store, plus water - I paid for them since I was still sore. After considering it, I decided not to go back to the mountain - some part of me knew you can't recreate those moments on command. I headed south instead.

It was flatter down there, and rather than an abrupt cutoff the houses slowly got farther and farther apart, and wheat fields started replacing them. The road I took wasn't a major thoroughfare; it meandered gently along the low, rolling hills. I ditched my shirt again, since it was getting hot and the shirt marked me as truant. Not that the backpack didn't. I tried to ignore my legs, but eventually they decreed that I was done for the day. Even under my fur I felt a sunburn starting, so I was glad that there were trees planted along the roadside. I leaned against one and shut my eyes, eating and wondering what had happened. I don't do that often - usually I couldn't care less why I do things. But that was my mood right then: happy, sort of, but thoughtful.

It didn't really help; the reason I'd left was that I couldn't climb onto the roof, and I was annoyed at Jake, and that just didn't cover it. But nothing came to mind to explain things for me. I wished I could have Ivan back, but that was hardly a reason to walk out on him halfway through lunch and be seven miles north by evening, a few miles south by morning.

It occured to me to wonder why I though back, when I'd never had him to start with.

I dozed off after a while. I woke up thirsty as the sun was setting and wondered wryly if I even dared move now for stiffness. I gave it a try, and my entire body shouted in protest. I gritted my teeth and stood up, and somehow found myself giggling like a puppy and unable to stop. The gigles grew until I laughed outright at my body, and I started hobbling back to the town for the second time that day. I wished I could jump and dance for joy, but the reason I was happy was because I couldn't.

Following my tracks back, I noticed that someone else had walked this road recently; there was another set of prints overlapping mine. Must be a local farmer or something. About a mile down the road a passing truck stopped and the old mouse driving asked if I'd like a lift.

"Rough day?" he asked kindly once I was in the vehicle.

"You might say that," I answered, fighting to keep the mirth out of my voice. My laughted doubled, though I kept it silent, forcing me to clutch my belly, bending over and shaking with energy. The old mouse looked sideways at me, uneasy, and I laughed even harder, my face contorting. When I could finally straighten I wondered why tears were falling, and violently threw my head back against the seat, lips pulled back from my fangs as I grinned hugely and shook. I asked him to set me down a few minutes later near the center, and he was relieved to see me go.

I was violently sick the next day, throwing up what felt like every meal I'd ever had and lying sweat-soaked and freezing - by turns and at once - under the covers in my room at the center while wolves and lions chased each other through my fevered dreams. Between the nightmares, and sometimes part of them.

I guess they got a doctor to see me when I didn't get better after the first day, because when I woke sometime Saturday night my blistered pads were wrapped in disgusting-smelling gauze and I was drugged to the gills, judging by the way the world cartwheeled around the fog enveloping me. I slept again.

Sunday noon I woke up again in something rather closer to consciousness. I quietly staggered over to the bathroom, ignoring the drugged pains from my paws, then changed the sheets on the bed, suddenly revolted by the sweat in the old ones. Then I curled up in the middle of the matress and wrapped my arms around my chest while the tears fell. I didn't know why - my life was a shambles, a series of setbacks while I careened downward, out of control, insane. Aimless. I couldn't stop myself. I couldn't even want to stop myself. It didn't hurt when furs looked at me like a freak; it only hurt because when they looked I knew they were right. So I told myself I didn't care about them. And I believed it. And I hurt them in retribution. And now there wasn't anyone filling the cold space at my back while I cried. It might have been any of that, or all of it, or none of it.

It might have been only a bad reaction to the painkillers.

Monday morning I was once again in the position of arguing to go to school. My team did not want to let me - they wanted details, reasons, rationales, apologies, and commitments, none of which I wanted to give them and only one of which I actually had. I laughed them off, told them it was okay, I was okay, looked pitiful and truthful and cheerful, made them feel in control and benevolent until they caved and drove me over. I walked into composition like a returning monarch on bandaged paws, gave the Royal Marine a saucy wink, laughingly got the homework from Friday and brushed off his concerns. I liked him - he could take me apart any time he wanted to, but he was really good about these things.

"Hey, where've you been?" Becky asked in physical science, looking concerned.

"You wouldn't believe me if I said," I laughed. Not true, but easier for furs to accept, for whatever reason, than 'I don't want to talk about it'. "Sorry about the movie, I hope you got another date." She laughed when I fluttered my eyelashes at her.

At lunch I got an exaperated sigh when I curled up against Ivan's side like nothing had happened, and a black eye when I laughed and kissed him. My grin mocked Jake's serious expression until he pulled back and went to talk to Amy. He was walking stiffly, accentuating his fantastic body. Shame he was such a do-goodie jerk.

After school I talked the staff into another trip to town, or else they were planning one anyway. After all, there wouldn't be too many 'nice' days for the rest of the year. Resigned but a bit amused against their will, the let us out and I was gone in ten minutes again.

The gang cornered me in an alley a little past sunset. I wasn't thinking, dropped into the alley without even a quick check, didn't see them coming until too late. I didn't know any of them; they were past high school age. As soon as I saw the first pair I whipped around, but there were more behind me already. The leader, a shortish - id est, only a few inches taller than me - black panther with biceps bigger than my waist, stepped forward and smiled lazily, running his tongue over his polished white teeth. "Well, what do we have here? It looks like a dog, but surely not even a dog is dumb enough to be running around the alleys on my turf."

"Well, most furs would tell you I'm pretty stupid," I said carefully, grinning. I knew that I was in pretty serious trouble - no one could see me without coming all the way around the store we were behind, and the walls mad awfully good sound barriers as well. But even while part of me was trying to talk my way out of it, another part was spoiling for a fight, and I had to work to keep that out of my smile.

The panther nodded thoughtfully. "I believe that. So I'll make this simple for you: I'm gonna cut you a break. You hand over your wallet, and depending how much is in it maybe we let you keep breathing past tonight."

Well, damn. Not unexpected, but damn. "I... am afraid I can't help you too much there, I said, slowly reaching down and turning out my pockets. "I didn't bring my wallet with me. But I'll tell you what, if you let me go, I'll never come back here again. I mean, seriously, one little dog isn't going to put much of a feather in your cap, right? I'll never tell anyone about it."

The panther's lip curled. "What, just let you walk all over my turf and then get away clean? No, kid, you just bought yourself a shitload of pain." He was moving before he finished, and so were his gang mates. So was I though, and my grin got wider despite everything. I leaped lightly around him, giving myself a second before he could turn and tangling him up with his friends somewhat, then darting back in. I went for the eyes again; they're small targets, but almost everyone jerks away when to go for them and they are the most vulnerable part of the body if you don't have any weapons.

I was very lucky; he moved just the wrong way and I felt my claws digging into something hot, soft, and wet. He screamed, clutching at his face as his friends hit me like a ton of bricks. I went flying, and slammed hard into the asphalt. Before I could roll back up again there were a pair of deafening gunshots and twin balls of sound and agony exploded in my side and shoulder. It was my turn to scream. A shadow loomed over me, and desperately I kicked as hard as I could at it. Luck favored me a scond time; I heard a loud crunch and an even louder roar of pain. But then a fist slammed into my temple and agonized blackness claimed me.

The next few days were a roiling black mass full of chaos. It's my personal little pocket of hell to be trapped behind my eyelids, unconscious with nothing but darkness and pain for company. I don't know what happened when I screamed and thrashed in my nightmares. Maybe they tied me down, maybe nothing.

All things considered, I was rather surprised to wake up. I didn't wonder if I was dead, though; I had a very real-world pain coursing through every part of my body that instantly denied it. I whimpered quietly, squirming in an attempt to make the agony pull back, but that only made it worse. My whimper turned into a yelp, then another one before I got control. But the pain let me find myself, and I opened my eyes to a clean hospital room done in white and light blue. I lay as still as I could against the pain and took stock. I was fairly sure I was on some kind of painkillers but they most have been wearing off, for which I was grateful despite the discomfort. Two raw flames, one on my side and another under my collarbone on the right, must have been bullet holes; they were wrapped tight. Judging by the pain accompanying each breath, I had more broken ribs - part of me moaned in pained frustration at that; I'd been getting better! - plus a cast on my right arm and one on my left leg. The rest of me must have been one huge bruise, and I felt various small bandages over little scrapes from my nose to my tail. When I carefully lifted my head and even more carefully lifted the cover away with my left arm, I winced. The white fur on my chest, belly, and thighs was dark from the bruising beneath it, though the black fur on my arm hid it better.

The door opened to admit a wll-built horse in white scrubs. "I thought I heard you," she said kindly. "You're up a little early. How are you feeling?"

"Okay." My voice was a rusty croak, but I really didn't want to cough on broken ribs.

The nurse seemed to guess my thoughts; the picked up a glass of water and started to hold it to my lips, but I took it out of her hands before she got there. I definitly did not want anyone feeding me. It took a wair amount of wiggling and stifled whimpers, biting the inside of my lip until my muzzle filled with copper-tasting blood, to get into a half-sitting position so that I could drink without spilling water everywhere. Meanwhile, the nurse checked the instruments behind the bed and filled me in on my injuries, giving me a little space. Most of it I'd already guessed, but I also had a broken collarbone, a couple sprained and dislocated joints, a fairly serious gash over my eye and temple, and a ton of internal bleeding. I'd been out for several days; it was Friday morning now.

"Frankly," she said, "you're very lucky to be alive, and it was a near thing. If some furs passing by hadn't heard the gunfire and called the police right away, you'd have bled to death before we ever got to you. It'll be another week at least before we let you go." If she heard my resignes sigh, she ignored it except maybe for a slight twitch of her lips. Then she turned and filled a little syringe from a cabinet. "This should help with the pain," she said. "I expect you're feeling everything right about now."

I shrank back. "Um, actually I'm okay, really," I lied. The thought of more drugs in my system was suddenly repulsive and a little frightening.

She took a hesitant half-step forward, looking concerned, and I pulled even farther away. She looked at the syringe. "We could do pills instead, if you're more comfortable with that," she said in puzzlement.

"No - no thanks," I whispered, staring at my paws in my lap. "I'm all right."

After another moment's hesitation, she shrugged and empties the syringe again. "If you change your mind, just let someone know," she said as if this happened all the time. Then she started checking all my pandages, making me blush when she lifted the legs on my hopital-issued shorts to get at the ones on my thighs. She didn't comment, but I thought her lips quirked again.

When she was leaving, I tentatively stopped her. "Hey - has a lion stopped by to visit me? He's a couple years older than me, named Ivan?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so, no. I might not have been in when he came by, though." She shut the door softly.

I bowed my head and fought to keep my expression neutral. I knew the answer already, but I'd hoped.

Hospitals are designed for waiting; treating sickness and injury are only poor seconds. First all the visitors have to wait until the patient wakes up, then they all vanish and the patient has to wait for them. It is really hard to pass the time when birtually everything hurts like it's about to come off. You can't move too much, and the room seems made to be boring. Several of my handlers arrived about half an hour after I woke up, but they seemed afraid to jump on me for being stupid enough to be in a back alley and equally afraid to hug me or be too exuberant in their relief. I was grateful on all counts - I hurt.

After that, though, I mostly occupied myself. I slept quite a bit, off and on. They wheeled lunch in, but I devoured that in no time flat, ignoring how much worse the pain got when I moved, so it didn't help relieve the monotony much. I spent a good half hour making my way to a bathroom, trying to work the crutches with a broken arm and collar, and another fifteen minutes being lectured on how badly that could have gone wrong.

I was waking up from another nap when Todd and Becky came by in the afternoon after school had let out.

They hesitated in the doorway, and I immediately opened my eyes and grinned at them; the last thing I needed was to be ditched again because they thought I was unconscious. "Hey! Good to see a couple familiar faces!" I exclaimed.

They grinned and came in. Becky claimed the visitor's chair, so Todd took the edge of the bed. "Damn, Nick," he said, surveying me. "You look like hell."

"It's nothing on how I feel," I assured him. "For once I think I'm actually going to have to stay here as long as the doctors want me to." They laughed along with me.

"Y'know, Nick, one of these days you're gonna go a whole week without getting your tail knocked up between your ears," Becky joked.

"Yeah, and then you'll have to dust up there, since your skull will have been empty so long," Todd added while I mock-glared at them.

We were interrupted by a shy knock at the door. I looked up to see Claire from compostition standing there, looking at me with worry. "Hey, Claire," I said, grinning at her. "Come on in. I'd offer you a chair, but you'd have to knock this lout out of it." I flicked my right ear at Becky playfully. The fox aimed a mock punch for my shoulder before she remembered I just might pass out from pain if she so much as brushed me.

Claire smiled in relief and moved with her usual deliberateness to the other side of the bed, sitting on the edge. "I was worried about you," she confessed, blushing a little under her thick, curly brown fur.

"Pshaw," I said scornfully. "It'll take more than one murderous gang to do me in." I tried to stretch nonchalantly but winced and stopped. Claire gave me a tender, waspish look down her blunt muzzle. "...though maybe not much more," I confessed sheepishly.

She looked away, and I noticed a wet glimmer in her eyes. Reaching up - more carefully, this time - with my left paw, I brushed it back. "Seriously, I'm okay," I said, torn between embarrassment, concern, and laughter.

Becky padded around the bed to hug the bear-fox around the shoulders while she snuffled and scrubbed her eyes. Eventually Claire got herself back together and smiled at us. "Yeah, I guess." Putting on her most businesslike expression, she scrutinized me closely. "You look like hell, though."

"I've heard," I said sourly. Todd snickered.

We spent another forty minutes or so talking before they had to go do homework. I had a small mountain as well, a gift from my handlers, I assume, and in the back of my mind I wondered how in hell I was still passing my classes. Well, except for P.E.; any fool could pass that, except for the security guards.

I was dozing off again when I heard someone else come in. Opening one sleepy blue eye, I saw Amy looking down at me like she didn't know whether to be horrified or pleased at my condition. I was surprised enough to open the other one. "What are you doing here?" I asked in astonishment. As I said, Amy kind of hates my guts.

"What I'd like to know, too," she muttered to herself. She started pacing - not really uncommon; most big cats don't sit still well.

"I'm supposed to see if you're okay," she growled at last, showing off more of her spotless white fangs than was strictly necessary for speech. I suppose it might charitably have been called a smile.

"No offence, but why do you care?" I asked, still fighting through fatigue.

The leopard looked at the cieling as if asking for patience. "I don't," she explained in her too-patient voice. "I said I'm supposed to see if you're okay." When I continued to look puzzled, she growled. "Meaning someone asked me to see, genius. In this case, Jake, and he owes me big time for the favor."

Well. That was weird. I shook my head in an attempt to clear it, and emitted a quiet yelp before I could pull it back.

Amy started forward in concern, then checked herself. "So?" she asked gruffly. "Are you okay? Because no offence, but you look like hell, kid."

I groaned. "Yeah, I'm all right. But you're the third fur today who's said I look like hell."

She smirked. "Can't help it if it's true." She hesitated, then ruffled my ears very lightly and left me feeling really confused.

***

Well that one jumped around a lot. I don't like the part where he gets attacked and where he wakes up before Todd and Becky come in; they just don't feel believable to me. But I don't really know how to fix that either. In any case, I hope you enjoyed it, and please comment.