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Charlotte

My restful sleep was cut much shorter than it usually is on days like these by the sound of my cell phone's chime. The typical ear-splitting alarm was replaced by the fancy little jingle, informing me that there was somebody's voice on the other end. Amber light from a street lamp drizzled into my apartment, disrupted by the rain and illuminating the cheap, worn end table that held my even cheaper phone. The grey fur on my arm dragged across the bed as my paw selflessly brought the cell to the lupine triangle on top of my skull. Only two people would call at this hour, and fifty-fifty odds were more than enough for me to answer. "Hey," I croaked, betting to hear my vixen on the other end with the sultry yet sweet "Bonjour, Sean!" that always brought a grin to my muzzle.

I am not a gambling man.

"Corbis!" an even hoarser badger shouted through the phone. "That fucking fox hit another goddamn bank, get over here immediately."

"Chief, I'll be in at seven."

"No bullshit, we need all of our detectives in here now."

"Fine, I'm on my way!" Seven it is! I thought, hanging up the phone. An hour was more than enough time to get ready, and Chief wouldn't mind as long as I'm not too late, so I set to my morning rituals. After brushing my teeth in the shower to save myself time and effort, I threw on my old used suit which was an even duller grey than my own fur. Each trinket earned its own pocket as I patted each one systematically through my slacks. Wallet, cigs, badge, gun, cell, good to go. Same as every morning. I nabbed the newspaper off of my door as I left the small apartment my footpaws plodding down the jagged wooden steps while I dreaded working overtime the day after my day off.

I walked out the door of the large apartment building and took a sharp u-turn to the left, walking into the florescent-lit diner conveniently two floors below the room in which I ate and slept. The habitual greeting to the old otter behind the register left my maw without a thought, "Morning, Beverly."

The ever-cheery voice cut through the rain smattering against the windows while I sat in my usual booth. "Mornin', Sean! What kin' I get the big, bad detective this fine mornin', coffee sound good?"

I nodded politely as I flipped open the paper, when it suddenly hit me which case we were working on. Hell, it even earned a frontpage headline:

VULPINE BANK ROBBER ELUDES POLICE AGAIN WITH BIGGEST HEIST YET

It was even accompanied by a photo of the bandit, which was nothing more than a blurry security camera still of a slim fur in all black, although a fox's tail practically waved at the camera, red with a white tip, and two black streaks of fur in between.

My jaw clenched when I saw that exact same tail strut in to the diner at that very moment, swaying behind a beautiful vixen as she approached my booth. "Bonjour, Sean!"

A smile broke onto my face for less than a second before turning into a scowl. "No perfume today?"

"Tsk, tsk, I can't go around smelling beautiful all the time, darling, what if someone recognizes my scent?"

I scoffed and tossed the paper at her as she sat, nearly knocking over the bitter liquid that I hadn't even noticed. She didn't flinch of course.

"What the hell are you doing, Charlotte, another one?" I hissed in a low tone, "They're gonna be looking everywhere for you! I've even been called in early today just to track you down!"

She waved off my worries before speaking. "Shh, I'll be fine, darling, I won't get caught. I never get caught. I believe the Mounties are still after me, no?" She chuckled through her thick but sultry French accent as her face broke into a foxy grin. It even seemed like her whiskers were happy.

Damn that accent.

"They'll find you if you keep this up!"

"That's why I'm not going to keep this up." My look must have been a rather comical combination of surprise and confusion. That threw me off. She never quit, she only ever moved onto a different city. Wait... "I know a ferret that works for one of the airliners in JFK, and he owes me a big favor from when I saved his hide from that loan shark." She waved two tickets in front of me, for that day at noon to none other than Paris, France. Direct flight, first class.

I nearly choked on my bitter coffee when I saw the tickets. Not only were they impossible to get, but she was wanted, and... "Babe, I can't go."

"Of course you can! My car's outside and we'll be on our way back to my home in hours!"

"But what about passports and customs!?"

Her black-tipped ears flicked in delight without a single falter in her smile. Her other hand pulled out two passports. "One for me and one for you, Sean."

I sighed. I wanted to go. I wanted it more than anything, but something held me back. "I can't go, Charlie. I'm a damn fine cop, and I... I just can't leave. I'm sorry."

She was a master at hiding her emotions. If I hadn't known her for so long, I would have missed her ears flick back. "But darling, you can be a cop anywhere, I-"

"Dammit, Charlie, I know you 'know a guy'! You always 'know a guy', you have this connection who can just pull strings for you. And I love that resourcefulness about you, I do," like I love everything else about you, "but I can't leave just so you can chase a bigger score! I'm not going to leave behind my friends, my partner, and my brother just to make you happy," no matter how much I want to.

Then another surprise: she smiled. I didn't register it at first, it didn't seem cocky, or sneaky or any of the other dozens of smiles she can place on her muzzle. "Then I suppose this is goodbye, my dear."

I couldn't help myself. "Please don't go, Charlotte. I-I..." She placed a warm kiss on my cheek, leaving a hint of red lipstick on my fur before she strutted out of the diner. Although, she seemed to have less sway than she did before.

I sat for minutes, staring at the black, bitter coffee between my paws attempting to process the brief but devastating moment that had just occurred, but to no avail. I heaved a heavy sigh, checked my watch, and headed out of the diner, throwing a few singles on the table as I left.

All the way to the parking garage, the French-laden "Then I suppose this is goodbye" ran through my head. I lost her. Just like that. I still have no idea how she never got caught, and it isn't like I was on her payroll. I may have been the only one of her "acquaintances" that she didn't use to get the next big score. But no matter. Dwelling on it was pointless, because once Charlotte set her mind to something, she got it done.

The silver Impala in the garage beeped before I threw the door open and plopped down. I sighed again, waiting a moment in the silent car. I threw the keys into the ignition and kept thinking about that goddamn vixen. She knew me better than I knew me, as clichéd as it sounds. Of course, she's read my police file more times than I have, and every time I read it I was doing so legally. But still, there was this back and forth that I had with nobody else. I just couldn't leave this all behind just to slow her down and get her caught in Paris. I'm a great cop, but a lousy criminal. She's better off without me.

I pulled out of the parking garage, mindlessly taking the drive to the station so I could catch the same woman who left me ten minutes before. Damn if I can't still smell her scent. It's like she never left, almost. It was faint, but there. Although, it did lack the flowery smell I was used to. Wait...

I reached to my holster when I caught the red blur in my rearview. "Hands on the wheel, mon cher." I did as she commanded, and kept driving, my mouth suddenly dry as the cold metal cylinder nuzzled the back of my head.

"Why?" I croaked, looking back at her through the mirror.

And for a miraculously rare moment, that fox showed emotion. It wasn't obvious, but the slight wavering of her voice, the shaking of her gun, her ears being laid back, and her even rarer silence were all signs. They were subtle, but signs nonetheless.

And that's when it struck me. Her smile, the one I couldn't register, it wasn't a smile of happiness or victory, but of sadness and regret. She had this planned just in case I'd said no.

I repeated, "Why, Charlie? It isn't like you to get blood on your paws."

"It is not like me to leave witnesses, either."

"It isn't like you to have witnesses. So why me? Why the hell did you let me get so goddamn close, so close that I get burned!?"

"Because I am in love with you, God dammit!"

Some morbid sense of humor in my brain forced a chuckle. "I knew it."

"What?" she spat.

"You do love me."

"Yes. And that is why I am sorry you could not come with me. Au revoir, Sean."

If I had to give anyone some advice, it would be these two things:

1) Never trust a fox.

2) Never, under any circumstances, allow yourself to fall madly in love with one, no matter how much they know you, understand you, laugh with you, cry with you, or love you.

Then she pulled the trigger.