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I'm really really sorry I took so long on this one; I had other things going on, plus a nasty case of writer's block on all things related to All's Fair. I'd like to thank [Combustion](%5C) for his last comment, because that's what started me sparking again ('cause I hate seeing sad pandas :) ).

The story's main character is bi, so don't read if you don't want to. As ever, your comments are great - let me know any places/ways I can improve. Are things moving too slow? Do I have enough detail? Are the characters fun and/or believable? (or too preditctable?) Good parts/bad parts?

Thanks for reading!

• Xi

All's Fair - Part 8

The mall was packed, wall-to-wall, with furs under incandescent lights set into the ceiling far overhead. There was an open space in the center with escalators to the second floor and kiosks selling everything from cinnamon buns to umbrellas. A huge skylight above that opening revealed the rapidly-clouding sky and let in the last wisps of weak winter sunlight before they were shut out. The cinnamon bun seller was looking rather forlorn in his white apron because, by whatever twisted chance of social theory, almost everyone that day had decided to go to the Starbucks across the way instead. The air was heated by a combination of body heat from the mass of shoppers and the sheer noise they were generating. It was incredible, echoing off the walls, the glass sides of the escalators, the metal figurines in the statuary shop - everything even remotely solid.

At that particular moment I was busy choking on a mouthful of hot dog. It was fairly understandable; I'd been running into and dropping things for a couple hours now, a grin plastered across my muzzle, so when you throw in a healthy dose of incredulous shock I consider myself lucky I didn't literally fall out of the chair.

But I'm leading you on. I'd gotten to school early, and paced around for ten restless minutes before I decided Jake could damn well come find me and started to leave. Thankfully, I'd barely left the building when the bell rang, because that meant I saw Ivan on his way out of the literature wing on the other side of the courtyard. Even better, he was alone - fairly uncommon, and always fun, for me at least. But best of all, oddly enough, was that Jake caught up with us a bare thirty seconds later. Ivan had not even hit me yet; I expect it was getting old for him by then. But best because, somehow, Jake talked Ivan into coming with us, at least for lunch. I've no idea how he pulled it off; I can't remember anymore.

Which explains why I'd been running into things the whole way; I'd been staring at a pair of gorgeous guys talking with each other as we strolled over to the food court. I couldn't contribute much; they were discussing the taking apart of various cars. Apparently Ivan worked for a dealership's repair shop. My ears had drooped a little when he mentioned it; he'd never told me that. Still hadn't, in fact; he was mostly ignoring me.

Still. Now I knew, and I was sitting across a wonderfully small plastic table from him while Jake took the mediator's position between us.

I'd choked when Jake casually mentioned how much his mother expected me to spend.

"Three hundred pounds?!" I gasped once I'd sorted out my respiratory-digestive confusion.

Jake nodded comfortably. "And Mum will reimburse me if you go over." His only reaction to my sputters was a raised eyebrow and a slightly amused expression. "The whole reason I'm spending my day doing this instead of something fun is so that you get everything you'll need for a while, mutt. So you get to explain to Halo if you don't spend it all."

Ivan growled in disgust, his gold eyes clouded. "Must be nice, to have so much money you have to spend it all."

Jake's eyes clouded as well as he looked at the lion. "Sometimes it is," he said quietly with no inflection at all in his voice.

Ivan stood quickly, his chair scraping loud over the tile. I leaned over the table and caught at his paw just before he pulled it away from the table, knocking over the salt on the way. "Please don't go," I implored, silently begging him to sit down. I didn't dare rub his pads in comfort or pull him down for fear he'd jerk out of reach.

He hovered for a moment, then sank down onto the edge of the seat. We spent an awkward minute while he looked at anything except me or his paw, which I still held onto, not daring to believe it or press my luck. "It's snowing," he said at last, looking out the sliver of skylight we could see from there. I looked. Sure enough, the clear sky from that morning had gone the way of the dodo, and fat white flakes were melting on the glass.

"Yeah," I whispered.

Jake broke the moment by clearing his throat and gently pulling my paw off Ivan's. I shivered at the three-way contact. "We need to finish so we can get going," he said in a slightly hoarse voice, setting my paw down by the un-choked-on portion of my hot dog and bending over his own plate. I cocked an ear at his tone. It sounded like he was coming down with a cold. We spent the next ten minutes eating silently.

"Your family's poor?" I asked Ivan a short while later, while looking at shirts and wondering if I wanted to go for close- or loose-fitting styles. I decided on the former, but made a mental note to be sure they didn't restrict my movement at all. Jake was off hunting a restroom, I think.

"I am poor," he corrected. "Not that it's any of your business."

Well. At least he seemed in a mood to talk to me. And he didn't seem to mind being poor, per se, either. Or at least he wasn't ashamed of it; rather more scornful of Jake for being rich.

"Oh. So you live on your own, then?" I took his tossed head as assent. "Did your parents kick you out?"

He growled deep in his chest. "I left the day I turned sixteen and I haven't gone back since." He took a half-step away, and I followed under the pretense of looking at the shirts farther down the rack, holding my breath. He spoke much more quietly when he finally decided to go on. "My Dad left before I was born. My Mum burned her paychecks on booze and lived off welfare instead. So yeah, we were poor - and pathetic. I was gone as soon as I could rent an apartment with some friends."

I was silent, fighting off unpleasant memories he'd evoked. "Why didn't you run away?" I asked once I'd gotten back to the present.

"What, and end up in a homeless shelter? Or better yet, a correction center like you?" Ivan sneered. "No thanks. You can't sign for a place of your own 'till you're sixteen, anyway." He paused before going on. "I know because I tried."

The lion shook himself. "Well, I've got better things to do than waste an afternoon with a faggot like you. Tell your boyfriend I said to go to hell." He left briskly, faster than I could follow.

I bit my lip. Here we'd been going so well, and now somehow I'd gone and ruined it. I wondered a little hysterically if this happened with everyone, or if it was just when a gay guy went after a straight one. Or if it was just me. And how was I supposed to help it if Ivan left every time I got him to tell me about himself? My paw clenched around the cold metal stand holding the shirts.

Jake came back a few minutes later. "Where's Ivan?" he asked.

"Go to hell," I told him.

A ridiculous amount of money later, Jake and I walked dripping into his house. Neither of us particularly cared about snow one way or the other, though I snickered at the though of how disgruntled Ivan probably was, unless he'd gotten a ride back to his car at the school. Lions don't do cold-and-wet well; they're a warm-weather breed. There were exceptions, of course, but Ivan wasn't one of them.

I dropped my bags on the balcony to make a sojourn to the bathroom and grab a towel, then meandered back out, rubbing vigorously. "Where do you want these?" Jake asked from outside my room, holding my bags plus three more he'd carried.

"Just dump them on the bed," I answered. He vanished for a second, then came back and got a towel of his own. I went back downstairs again and hunted up a general-purpose rag in the laundry room to dry the floor, starting from the front door. He did the same, starting upstairs, and we met on the landing.

"Thanks," I said - grudgingly, on the surface. I didn't say for what. Jake just nodded.

I changed into a black t-shirt and some of the loose pants I'd gotten for the remainder of my convalescence, mostly just to luxuriate in them. I didn't particularly care to speculate how I looked.

Michael and Aislyn arrived by separate buses perhaps fifteen minutes apart. I all but fell off the couch both times. With reason, too - Michael arrived first, and as soon as the door was open he shouted his presence to the building at large. I was reading - a decent sci-fi story where criminals were exiled to the moon and revolted with the help of a sentient computer.

"Hi, Nick! What'cha doing?" he asked cheerfully - and loudly - trotting over to look. "You left really early today - weren't you done with school? I only have one more day to go!" I flopped back into the cushions, trying to slow my heartbeat back to normal, and showed him the title since he was contorting into all sorts of weird positions trying to see it from the other side of the couch. "We finished everything today, though. I think tomorrow will just be for fun. 'The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress'? What's that about?" The deer climbed onto the back of the couch while he chattered, lying on his stomach.

I was forced to grin at him, even though I would kind of have preferred to be left in peace. I mean, wow! he was loud. Or maybe 'energetic' is a better word. Still, I just didn't have the matching energy to deal with him right then. But I grinned anyway.

We'd somehow gotten onto political theory when Aislyn got back. She was almost a perfect foil for Michael; I didn't even see her until she was three feet away, watching us. I must have levitated three full inches off the couch. Michael had the advantage of a better position from which to see her coming; plus, he was probably used to having her materialize out of nowhere. He grinned at her - I was beginning to wonder if he even knew how to frown. Probably, but certainly he didn't practice often. "Hi, Aislyn!"

She smiled at him - I'd been beginning to wonder if she even knew how to smile. Apparently so. Then she turned her eyes back to me. They were blue, I noticed - an incredibly dark blue that made me wonder if she wore contacts. "Go ahead with what you were saying," she invited. Had she been one of us lesser mortals, I'd have expected her to lick her chops in anticipation of taking my head off.

Still, I could at least give it a go. "Um, I was saying that, well, businesses make all the money, so they need to bear the responsibility for supporting government programs for the rest of us."

Her lips curled back in what might have been called a smile, except I'd just seen her smile and it looked nothing like this. "I'm surprised you're reading Heinlein. Did it never occur to you, Nick, that a business is just someone making a living by selling a product rather than working for someone else? And did you never wonder, Nick, what they'll do if all their money is taken to pay for government programs like the one that foisted you onto us?" Her smooth tone could have etched a hole in steel.

"Aislyn, please don't," Michael pleaded from the back of the couch, half picking himself up. I immediately withdrew my earlier objection to his grin. His sister looked at him without expression for a moment, then something flickered in her eyes and she bowed her head - to him, not to me - and withdrew to her room without another word or a backward glance.

Which left me feeling mildly discouraged and more than a little guilty, with an unhappy deer biting his lower lip a few feet away. Part of my mind sarcastically asked what I'd expected - universal acceptance? Please. That Aislyn didn't want me here actually spoke well of her intelligence. But I'd have to do something about the unhappy deer part. Feeling more than a little stupid, I reached up and tugged gently at the corners of his mouth, pulling them upward. When I removed my paws he held the smile, albeit fragilely. So I made a silly face at him, evincing a watery chuckle.

"It - she doesn't really mean - " he began, but I was shaking my head.

"It's fine," I told him. "I'm sure your sister will come around." Doubtful. But the statement was not meant to be accurate - just to cheer Michael up. Does that make it a lie?

We'd just sat down to dinner when the telephone rang. Muttering deprecations under his breath, Dan stood up again to get it. "Hello, this is the Alteras'. Yes. Oh, I see. Well, that's too long. Okay, when can she see him? All right. Yes. We'll make it work. Okay, see you then. Thank you. Bye." He came back to the table, and smiled at Halo's questioning look, looking back at her in a way that made my breath catch painfully in my chest. Then he turned it off, turning to look at me. "That was the correction center, Nick. Apparently the doctor is going on vacation all next week, so the hospital's agreed to let you take your boot and arm cast off tomorrow morning instead. Do you want a ride over there?"

I shook my head, grinning at the news. "No, thanks. I'm just glad I'm finally getting them off! What time am I supposed to show up?"

Dan smiled again and told me, then turned to glance at Jake. Some silent message passed there - or more likely, some silent argument, to judge by the brief lowering of Jake's eyebrows. Only for a second, if that; then he nodded. I wondered what that was about, but was too preoccupied to ask. Seven weeks was already way too long; I was more than ready to get rid of the bulky casing on my leg and arm. Way more than ready. Of course, I remembered them saying that I'd have to work the offending limbs back up to strength, but at least I'd be able to.

Shortly after dinner Jake stood abruptly from the couch. "I need to go make some apologies," he growled, not looking at his parents. "I'll be back in three or four hours." The front door shut on the heels of his last word.

Dan and Halo made no sign of their thoughts, but their younger son was easier to read. He looked at the door Jake had just walked out of in confusion, opened his mouth then shut it without saying anything, then shot me a look before he pulled his gaze away and followed his parent's lead in pretending nothing had happened. The puzzled hurt behind his brown eyes lingered in my mind, though.

I went upstairs to my room perhaps ten minutes later to keep reading, hearing Aislyn talking on the phone behind her closed door on the way. When I stepped out some time later to use the restroom, I saw her in the living room playing chess with Halo on the hardwood floor. Returning to my room, I found I didn't really want to read, and wound up staring at the ceiling until past midnight when I heard Jake come back. Then I told myself I needed to get some rest, killed the lamp, and went to sleep.

The house was very quiet at eight in the morning. Dan and Halo had left for work, Michael and Aislyn for school. The noise they'd made earlier getting ready to go made the silence now that they'd gone more oppressive. I woke up without the usual in-between feeling - as soon as my eyes opened I was fully awake, no grogginess. That said, I had a strange unwillingness to get out of bed. I stared at the ceiling, remarking wryly to myself that I'd gotten to know it very well in so short a time, and tried to get up.

Nothing happened. I blinked in mild surprise, and sighed. Devoting more concentration to the order, I tried it again. Cased right arm. Unbound left. Use the latter to sit up, swing the bound left leg over the edge of the bed, do the same for the free right. Plant the right foot, push up to stand on it. Hop over to the closet, pull the left door open, then the right. Pick out a loose short-sleeve shirt, darkish grey. Even looser sweat pants, black. Boxers, also black. Hop back to the bed. Unstrap the boot; take it off. Slide the old boxers down to the floor. Sit on the edge of the bed. Pull the new boxers over the left foot; follow with the right. Ditto with the sweat pants. Don't bother putting the boot back on; it's coming off today anyway. Dressing is ridiculously complicated if your autopilot's on vacation.

Still, half an hour later I'd showered and dressed and grabbed a bagel on my way out. Two minutes later Jake came running up behind me and fell into step, except his steps were unimpeded. I glared at him, half exasperated and half amused. "Do you honestly think I need a guard dog when I'm on my way to a hospital?" I asked.

His only reply was a look that should have left me as a smoldering crater in the sidewalk. Then he continued walking, stopping at the corner and tapping his foot impatiently until I recovered from my surprise and followed after him.

Probably I should have left well enough alone, but where's the fun in that? I reached up - way up; I could never quite get over how tall he was, and every inch of him smoking hot and infuriating - and flicked his ear, standing significantly closer than I knew he was comfortable with while we waited for the 'walk' signal. "Moody much?" I teased. Jake didn't answer. "No, seriously," I pressed, oozing empathy as the light changed and we started across the street, me half turned towards him. Mock empathy, but hey. "Unless it's that you usually walk out on everybody like last night? And here I thought you were such a do-goodie. Well, I approve." We'd gotten to the other sidewalk now, and Jake was staring stoically forward, pretending he couldn't hear me. I hadn't seen him act like this much during the school year. "So what's the deal? Here you've been harassing me for months, and now you're pulling a silent act and acting like you don't want to be here? Not that I'd ever presume to tell you your business, but it's not like anyone's keeping you here. Go have a date with your girlf -"

I stopped the sentence short as Jake's step faltered and he came to a halt. A delighted grin spread across my muzzle. "You mean that's it? You're supposed to be going out with your girlfriend and instead you're stuck here babysitting me? What, did you promise Dan and -" my grin slipped as Jake swiftly closed the distance between us and his fist connected squarely with my jaw. I landed flat on my back with the wind knocked out of me.

"You still punch well," I mumbled once I'd forced some air back into my lungs, more to myself than to him. I was still blinking the stars out of my vision when he knelt next to me and gripped my muzzle, holding it shut. He didn't apply much pressure, but something in the way he didn't made my stomach tighten.

"You can keep your mouth off Amy, mutt," Jake said quietly, looking down into my eyes. He had no expression on his face or in his voice. Then he stood up, and waited while I fumbled up after him. He didn't offer to help.

Ten minutes later, though, he held the hospital door for me.

The procedure itself was nothing special. We got there fifteen minutes early; after a fifty minute wait, the doctor came to get us. He was an older Labrador with one ear chewed off at the base, and he was looking distinctly harried and more than a little grouchy. He had me back out in the lobby forty-five minutes after he'd called me, equipped with a cane, a pamphlet of what to do and what not to, and a rattled-off verbal recitation of the high points. I'd already discarded the third, and would have done the same with the second if Jake hadn't stolen it. The first, unfortunately, I needed. My leg had flat refused to bear my weight the first time I'd tried it; even now it felt approximately like a sack of Jell-o. An aching sack of Jell-o. I got out of the hospital mostly on stubbornness, then told Jake I was going for a walk. He looked worried, as though he doubted if I'd make it back to the house. I kind of did, too, but I wasn't about to tell him that. And anyway he couldn't linger; I assumed he was going to see Amy.

So he left, and I started off through the streets, doing my level best to put as little weight as possible on the cane. The most frustrating thing wasn't knowing that I could have run circles around myself before I'd broken my leg; it was knowing that I could have run circles around myself before they'd taken the casts off.

Still, persistence does pay off, however slowly. Three hours later I collapsed onto a bench in a distinctly less rarified portion of town, closer to school. I devoted several minutes to sweating and panting and generally reveling in the overexerted hurt in my leg. I devoted one more to wondering how in hell I was getting back, but by then I knew I was stalling. Then I sighed and looked across the street to the alley that had caused all my grief. It didn't look like much of anything in the one-o'-clock winter sunlight - just a narrow opening between two shops.

Part of my mind warned me sullenly about karma as I crossed the street and walked into it, but I'd long since argued it into submission. It's not like anything was going to happen in broad daylight. The mixed concrete-and-gravel underfoot crunched in agreement, but I couldn't tell which side of the argument it was agreeing with.

There was no sign of the fight, obviously; not after so long. I stood at the corner of the alley, the last point where furs from the street could still see me, and wondered if I'd expected to see anything. Just a few trash cans, a lot of debris and broken glass that would grace an alley anywhere. I took a deep breath and walked behind the building, completely out of sight, trying to ignore my pounding heart. I stood there for about a quarter of an hour, waiting, before I let myself look around any more. No one came, of course. I don't know where the panther and his gang were, but obviously not here. I wondered again what had happened to them. Then I found a trash can tall enough to let me reach the brick parapet onto the roof. I tried to lift as much of my weight as possible with my right arm - after all, it wasn't just my leg I was supposed to be rehabilitating. Once I was up, I finished the rooftop run that had been interrupted.

It took me four and some hours to get back to Jake's house, mostly above street level. Then I dropped down to the ground - and botched the landing again because I was tired, but so be it. I took a quick shower to get rid of the sweat and the fear in my fur and changed into closer-fitting clothes. And that was that.

***

Hum. Probably not my best, but I think it's decent. Let me know what you think (especially if you disagree :) ). And thanks again for reading.