Transitions I - Chapter 68 - Foreseeable surprises<title> <link rel="stylesheet" href="http://aslaug.eu/writings/T2/T2.css" /> </head> <body> <p class="legalese">Zig Zag is Copyright © Max Black Rabbit. Sabrina, Darke Katt and R.C. are Copyright © Eric W. Schwartz. James Sheppard, Marvin Badger, Rhonda Badger, Yohni and Esteban are Copyright © James Bruner. Alex O'Whitt is © Tigermark. The B-Team is © Silver Coyote. Jean LeBrun, Gabrielle Ryder, Colton Twain, Kalen Twain-Ryder, Francis Lopez, Charles Lopez, Timothy Bigglesworth-Farthington von Salzburg, Malcolm Grazer, Peter Spermophilus, Miranda Spermophilus, Dina Spermophilus, Miriam Redtail, Fox Jones, Leo Leon, Lizzy Doe-Leon, Nadia Leon, Emma Grey, William White, Steve Wulf and Pethouse Magazine is © Joan Jacobsen, 2007. All other characters appearing in this story, except where otherwise specifically noted, are likewise © Joan Jacobsen 2007.</p> <p class="legalese">Legal Notice: This story is Copyright © 2007 by Joan Jacobsen. This story may not be sold or used for commercial profit in any form or fashion. This story may not be modified in any way. This story may not be posted on a mirror site or any other Internet site without the written permission of the author. This story may not be distributed on print, magnetic, electrical or optical mediums.</p> <p class="legalese">Permission to use characters that are Copyright other individuals was obtained prior to the appearance of said characters. </p> <p class="legalese">The author, Joan Jacobsen, hereby asserts moral right to be identified as the author of this work. </p> <p class="legalese">This is an independent work of fiction with no connection whatsoever to Max Black Rabbit, Eric W. Schwartz, E.S. Productions or James Bruner and is in no way meant to imply any connection with Max Black Rabbit, Eric W. Schwartz, E.S. Productions, or James Bruner. This story contains characters created by Max Black Rabbit, Eric W. Schwartz, James Bruner, Tigermark and Silver Coyote. Events and characters occurring in this story should not be considered part of the storylines for either 'Zig Zag', 'Sabrina Online' or 'Sabrina Online - The Story'. </p> <p class="legalese">In fact, as far as 'Zig Zag', 'Sabrina Online', 'Sabrina Online - The Story' and 'Zig Zag the Story' are concerned, this story does not exist. The artists disavow any knowledge of and do not officially sanction the events in this story. </p> <p class="header">LXVIII - Foreseeable surprises</p> <p class="Textbody"></p> <p class="Textbody">The noise was getting unbearable. There was no other word for it. Trucks, cranes, cement-mixers and various pawheld tools all competed with each other to make the most annoying sound in Virginia. </p> <p class="Textbody">Zig Zag sipped her coffee and looked like she could badly do with a few pawfuls of aspirin and a hug or two. </p> <p class="Textbody">Across the table, Marvin looked even worse.</p> <p class="Textbody">"So...how far behind schedule are we?" he finally asked, when the background noise dropped for a few seconds.</p> <p class="Textbody">"Two weeks, so far. You know, you'd think we'd have thought about most of this before leaving. But somehow, it just never crossed my mind," Zig Zag said. She even sounded like she looked. Worn.</p> <p class="Textbody">"Two weeks. Gahh...we've been here five days, and we're two weeks behind. But let's face it, we don't usually have to build major sets on site like this. So long as we don't lose any more time..." Marvin said and sighed.</p> <p class="Textbody">"I know. The busses with the extras are arriving in four days. We <em>have</em> to start shooting when they get here. At least the Forum Romanum will be completed then. We can start shooting there," the skunk said and poured herself a fresh cup of coffee.</p> <p class="Textbody">Marvin nodded and looked around. It would have been a beautiful day, if not for the noise and the difficulties. Just the kind of day he'd really like to spend outside, maybe with a big basket of food and cold drinks. And his wife of course. The scenery was fantastic here...provided one turned far enough to not see the building mess. At least their hosts were extremely gracious about it. Although he had to admit, it had been a long time since he had to retell his football stories that many times.</p> <p class="Textbody">"We were just a little overeager. I don't think we can really be blamed for it. Is this going to turn out to be a problem, financially? I mean, two weeks delay and all?"</p> <p class="Textbody">"No...no we'll manage. I had a few words about that with Mr. and Mrs. McAreen yesterday, about prolonging the lease. It wasn't a problem with them," Zig Zag said and sipped her coffee again. It was her fifth cup since she sat down.</p> <p class="Textbody">Marvin nodded. The McAreen's were their hosts, the elderly muskrat couple. They had endeared themselves to the entire cast already, by coming by twice daily with corn bread or freshly baked pies...something to snack on at least.</p> <p class="Textbody">A burly gopher, standing a grand total of 5'2"...height, depth and width...came up to the table, taking off his hard-hat.</p> <p class="Textbody">"Ah'm sorreh' t'barge in, ma'am, sir..." he began, nodding politely to both furs present.</p> <p class="Textbody">Zig Zag smiled. Marvin couldn't help being amazed. The weariness just melted off her and she seemed all cheers and good humor in the blink of an eye. </p> <p class="Textbody">"It's not a problem. Will you join us for a cup of coffee?" she asked.</p> <p class="Textbody">"Naw, ma'am, but thanks fer offerin'. Jus' wanted t'let y'all know tha' we finally managed t'get them pillars stable. We'll get the temple's up in no time...an' tha' big round thingy...whatsamacallit..."</p> <p class="Textbody">"That big round thingy would be the mausoleum of Augustus Caesar," Zig Zag chuckled. "Be happy my scriptwriter didn't hear you say that or you wouldn't get away from here for the next two hours while she explained it all to you in detail..."</p> <p class="Textbody">The gopher chuckled. "Ah'm jus' a blue-collar fur, ma'am. Ne'er paid tha' much attention to academics. But if ya say tha's wha' i' is...then we'll get the Slaumoleum o' August set up in a few days too."</p> <p class="Textbody">Marvin waited until the gopher had left before looking at his boss, with a gravely serious expression on his face.</p> <p class="Textbody">"The Slaumoleum of August?" he asked, deadpan.</p> <p class="Textbody">Zig Zag just sipped her coffee, doing her best to hide the twitch at the corner of her eyes.</p> <p class="separator">###</p> <p class="Textbody">Fox Jones was sitting in his office, going through a case. He was bored. Rubbing the corners of his eyes with a long sigh, he flicked a page and tried hard to concentrate. It wasn't easy. He was good at his job. One thing he really knew, was how the furry mind worked and what made it click. He knew this. The various diplomas and certificates on his walls proved this. And one thing he had learned the hard way was that every fur who felt sad for more than thirty minutes at a time would instantly come running to a psychologist, claiming they were desperately depressed. Most of them wouldn't hear of going home and taking a night off, just relaxing and treating themselves nicely. No...pills were the answer. Always medicine.</p> <p class="Textbody">Again, he shook his head and looked at the case in front of him. Female executive, late thirties. Complaints about neurosis, manic behaviour, severe depressions. </p> <p class="Textbody">He looked at his computer. At a rough estimate, he'd say he had at least thirty other cases, exactly like it. Maybe one or two of those patients suffered from real depressions. The rest were just really good at telling themselves they did. Ethically, it saddened him that he had to treat that kind of patients. He'd much rather tell them to go home and start acting responsibly, but he knew that not only wouldn't they listen...they'd get offended, and instead run off and find some less scrupulous doctor, who would gladly treat them with endless amounts of drugs, as long as he got paid.</p> <p class="Textbody">Better to talk to these furs, and subtly try to make them realize that maybe the problem wasn't a fictive depression, but a real need to conform. Conform to a world where it was rapidly becoming normal to be abnormal. Where, if you didn't suffer from at least two serious mental issues and three physical ones, you'd be considered a...a freak.</p> <p class="Textbody">He didn't like that word. It reminded him of one patient in particular.</p> <p class="Textbody">Normal. </p> <p class="Textbody">There, at least, was <em>one</em> femme, who could claim to have a real problem. He sighed and turned to his computer to open Jean LeBrun's file. He'd barely managed to find it when his phone rang. He half expected it to be Miriam, telling him that she couldn't make it in time for dinner tonight. It'd just complete the day.</p> <p class="Textbody">"Fox Jones speaking," he said into the phone, sounding more weary than he'd hoped.</p> <p class="Textbody">There was a moment of quiet at the other end of the line. Then someone coughed, in a slightly embarrassed way.</p> <p class="Textbody">"Hello Doctor Jones. This is Doc Lupin speaking. If I'm calling at a bad time, I'll try to catch you later, y'know," the voice said.</p> <p class="Textbody">"Oh...no, not at all. Please, what can I do for you? I'm sorry...I'm just dealing with...well, suffice to say I think every medical professional occasionally come across those who really desperately want to be ill, and who think it'll make them boring to be healthy."</p> <p class="Textbody">"Lord preserve us from hypochondriacs. Yes, I think we all deal with them one way or another. You have my sympathy. Anyway, I have some news. Hopefully they can cheer you up."</p> <p class="Textbody">The fox leaned back in his seat and chuckled. "I could do with cheering up. It's been one of <em>those</em> days. In fact, I was sure it was my girlfriend when the phone rang...saying she couldn't make it over in time for dinner tonight. That kind of day."</p> <p class="Textbody">"Well, in that case..." Doctor Lupin said, gravely, "...I am quite happy not to have obliged your expectations. Now, what I called you about...or whom, more precisely...well, I guess you can guess?"</p> <p class="Textbody">"Sure can. We still only have one patient in common. I was just looking at her file, when you called. I needed to look at someone with a <em>genuine</em> problem..."</p> <p class="Textbody">Again, Doctor Lupin fell quiet for a long moment. "I don't know if you have any idea how twisted that sounded. If anyone but a medical professional heard you say something like that, they'd think you were raving mad..."</p> <p class="Textbody">"I'm in the right job then," Fox Jones chuckled. "Now...what about Jean. What news do you have?"</p> <p class="Textbody">"I have a set date. At John Husky's."</p> <p class="Textbody">There was a moments quiet. Then a long, relieved sigh escaped the fox. "She's in Virginia right now. But I know how to get a hold of her. Do you want to give her the message, or do you want me to?"</p> <p class="Textbody">"If it's all the same to you, Doctor Jones, I'd really like to be the one to give her this bit of news, myself."</p> <p class="Textbody">"I'll fax you the information you need, immediately."</p> <p class="Textbody">In his office, Doc Lupin leaned back in his seat after hanging up. He put his feet up on his desk and smiled. There were times when things worked out the way they should. Not often. But sometimes.</p> <p class="separator">###</p> <p class="Textbody">Gabrielle looked at the construction-site. It was barely recognizable as the hills they had seen and enjoyed the view of a few days earlier. It amazed her, how fast the sets were built though. On second thought, it wasn't that surprising since mostly they were just shells of houses with nothing inside them, or even facades. A huge hall, not unlike a flight hangar, made from pre-built components had already been put up. A lot of scenes would be shot inside that. Scenes that took up more space than what was available at the studio in Ohio.</p> <p class="Textbody">She smiled. They were behind schedule already, she knew that, but she wasn't worried. Zig Zag had a talent for improvisation and things would work out eventually.</p> <p class="Textbody">"We'll be able to do a few scenes...those that take place on the road...what was that again? The Via Salaria, I think?" Wanda said next to her.</p> <p class="Textbody">Gabrielle nodded. "That's it. And I think we'll start on those this afternoon, actually. I'm not really worried. We may be here a couple of weeks extra but we'll get it all done. Besides, the sets look great."</p> <p class="Textbody">"Absolutely. It'll be a bit odd though. The Via Salaria scenes are at the end of the movie. It'll mean shooting the last parts first," Wanda said with a shrug.</p> <p class="Textbody">"True. But I don't think that's too unusual in big productions. Anyway...we'd better go get warmed up. At least, I have to. It's one of my big scenes after all," Gabrielle grinned.</p> <p class="Textbody">"Ohh...<em>right</em>...that's true. I nearly forgot. Well, make it epic," Wanda said and winked.</p> <p class="Textbody">"You know me," the bronco chuckled and turned to head back to change into costume.</p> <p class="Textbody">Wanda nodded and followed. "I do. Anyway, it's a little odd that most of this time will be spent shooting scenes without any nudity involved. Or at least without MUCH nudity."</p> <p class="Textbody">"We did most of the sweat-scenes in Columbus already. And the beds in the trailers are <em>quite</em> nice, Wanda. If you get an itch I'm sure there's no shortage of males around to help."</p> <p class="Textbody">Wanda tried to keep a straight face. "Behave, Gabrielle."</p> <p class="Textbody">"Who me? I always behave. I just don't always behave <em>well</em>," Gabrielle replied with a wide smile.</p> <p class="Textbody">She opened the door to the trailer and went inside. Wanda shook her head and walked along.</p> <p class="separator">###</p> <p class="Textbody">Leo opened the door to the apartment and kept it open with one foot. Then he bent down and lifted a couple of large grocery bags from the floor, holding one on each arm. It was a bit of a balance act. Both bags were filled nearly to the brim. Cursing and muttering under his breath, the lion managed to get through the door without dropping anything. </p> <p class="Textbody">He hurried to the kitchen and put both the bags down on the table. Lizzy wasn't home yet. He hadn't expected her to be. That was good. Just what he had hoped. He began unpacking the groceries, putting some in the fridge, and some in the freezer. Others, he placed on the table. Then he tapped the tip of his nose with one claw, ponderously. </p> <p class="Textbody">"She's going to either flip out and throw all kinds of fits, and throw me out on my tail for this, or she'll melt like butter..." he mumbled.</p> <p class="Textbody">He thought about it and shook his head. The doe wouldn't flip out, he felt sure about that. But melting like butter didn't seem to fit his mental image of Lizzy very well. Grinning slightly to himself, he began gathering the tools he needed to prepare the meal. It was going to be interesting to see her reaction at least. </p> <p class="Textbody">Chopping onions didn't really bother him. He sniffed a few times and felt his eyes sting and water, but at least it was over, fast. He liked cooking. Even though he'd never really needed to. It was a nice way of relaxing. Besides, that was one of the things that made him feel like a normal fur.</p> <p class="Textbody">The expression kept rolling around in his head.</p> <p class="Textbody">A normal fur.</p> <p class="Textbody">What was a normal fur anyway? He wasn't sure there was a definite answer but at the same time he felt pretty sure he wasn't it. Not with his background. Sometimes, that upset him. Other times, he didn't mind.</p> <p class="Textbody">What did he want from life? That was usually the next question and true enough, it didn't fail this time either. What did he really want? He could have access to the big league. Rubbing elbows with senators and congressfurs. No problem in fact. At the same time...he knew it wasn't what he hoped for himself.</p> <p class="Textbody">He sighed and put the knife down, looking at the chopped onion as if that held the answer.</p> <p class="Textbody">"It's stupid, that's what it is. I'm chasing dreams...and I don't even know what the dream I'm chasing involves. I have no idea what it's like to live a 'normal' life..." he muttered. It was true too. Getting up at six in the morning to take a bath, make breakfast, wake the kids and feed them, then take them to school and heading off for work himself was something he just couldn't imagine. What would it be like? He had no idea.</p> <p class="Textbody">But did the thought seem offensive to him?</p> <p class="Textbody">No. He had to admit it didn't. He just wasn't sure, deep in his soul, if he was painting a rosy red image of a life that might in fact be very hard.</p> <p class="Textbody">Again he sighed and scraped the onion into a ceramic bowl, before getting a hold of the potatoes. Washing the first one off under the faucet, he shook his head. Would the life he could look forward to if he took over the family business any easier? Could he even escape doing that? </p> <p class="Textbody">Would he run the life's work of his parents into the ground in a matter of years? He feared so. He knew well enough that he was too soft to make it in big business. Lizzy was tough enough, though. But Lizzy did not like big business by default and anyway...while things seemed great now, who would know if they'd seem great in two weeks or two months? </p> <p class="Textbody">"You're an idiot, Leo," he said to himself. "You have the world in the palm of your paw, and you're afraid of it."</p> <p class="Textbody">He stopped right there, the knife stopping halfway through a potato slice. </p> <p class="Textbody">He wasn't afraid of it. He was afraid of facing it alone.</p> <p class="Textbody">Leo smiled a little to himself and shrugged, going back to slicing potatoes. Maybe that was the answer. Maybe this was really all about knowing his own limitations, and knowing he'd need someone to support him. Someone he could rely on to be more than a back-patter.</p> <p class="Textbody">But where did Lizzy equate into that?</p> <p class="Textbody">She didn't, he realized. This wasn't just some scheme to not be alone. And he certainly wasn't thinking of her as some kind of business asset. The very thought made him scowl. But at the same time, his father <em>had</em> pointed out the huge differences between him and Lizzy. It was all a mess, and he knew it. All he had to do to remove that mess was to put down the knife and potato, go and pack his things and go home. He looked at the door. Then he shook his head and picked up the knife and potato again and continued slicing. There was no going back. Messy future or not. He liked where he was.</p> <p class="Textbody">The point was...he didn't equate into that picture himself, either. And the one thing he was sure of, about Lizzy, was that he felt good with her. </p> <p class="Textbody">He felt <em>normal</em>.</p> <p class="separator">###</p> <p class="Textbody">Jean put the phone down and sat down. Remaining on her feet was not an option. Her knees wouldn't support her. She looked at her paws and swallowed. They were shaking like leaves in an autumn wind. She realized it wasn't just her paws. It was her whole body. Her mouth felt dry. Her throat constricted. And at the same time, she wanted to do nothing more than to clench her fists and just scream out in relief and elation.</p> <p class="Textbody">But even her fingers rebelled. </p> <p class="Textbody">The door to the trailer opened and Marvin peeked inside. </p> <p class="Textbody">"Hey Jean have y....whoa...what's wrong with <em>you</em>? You look like you just saw the ghost of Elvis or something..."</p> <p class="Textbody">Jean turned her head and looked at the badger. A million and one thoughts were competing for her attention and at the same time she knew she had to answer him. She opened her mouth but no words came out. Instead she just pointed at the phone with a shaky finger.</p> <p class="Textbody">Marvin frowned deeply. "Someone called you?" he asked.</p> <p class="Textbody">Jean just nodded.</p> <p class="Textbody">"Was it something bad? If anyone said something bad about you..." Marvin said and wagged a finger in the air.</p> <p class="Textbody">The vixen shook her head, vigorously. She tried to speak again but nothing seemed to work quite right. Her legs were hurting. She couldn't remember if she'd ever been so shook up before. Hot and cold flashes made it hard to think clearly.</p> <p class="Textbody">"Nothing bad but...you still look like something drastic happened. Jean...should I go and get Gabrielle? Or Zig Zag?" Marvin asked. He was starting worry quite a bit.</p> <p class="Textbody">Jean blinked a few times and looked at the phone again. There was some stationary laying next to it, in case someone needed to take down notes. It included a pair of tiny scissors. She picked them up and looked at them, swallowing.</p> <p class="Textbody">"Oh dear...this isn't good," Marvin mumbled and started to turn in the doorway to find someone who was better able to deal with Jean in an odd mood.</p> <p class="Textbody">The vixen held out the scissors towards him and just...snipped them. In the air. Marvin turned again and looked at it, blinking. She was trying to tell him something.</p> <p class="Textbody">"You can't speak right now...?" he asked.</p> <p class="Textbody">Jean tried again. Her voice was hoarse. Barely a wheeze. The scissors fell out of her paw and she looked down at them as if she wasn't sure what to do next.</p> <p class="Textbody">"Okay, that's <em>it</em>. I'm getting Gabrielle and Zig Zag here. Sit tight, alright? I'll get some help," Marvin burst out and ran out of the trailer.</p> <p class="Textbody">Jean just looked at the scissors on the floor again. For the moment...they were her entire world. </p> <p class="Textbody">Just two sharp blades.</p> <p class="separator">###</p> <p class="Textbody">"AND CUT!" Zig Zag shouted through the megaphone. The camerafurs flicked a few switches and the actors and actresses relaxed.</p> <p class="Textbody">Esteban looked down himself. "Ay caramba...messee..." he complained. "Thees movie weell have to get a PG-13 rateeng..."</p> <p class="Textbody">Everyone else stopped dead in their tracks and looked at the maned wolf, covered in theatre blood and very realistic looking wounds. Then a roar of laughter went up.</p> <p class="Textbody">"Esteban, you didn't just <em>say</em> that??" Zig Zag managed to croak, wiping her eyes. "It's a porn movie for crying out loud..."</p> <p class="Textbody">"Well...I know that. But even weethout the sex, eet'd need a PG-13 rateeng ees what I mean..." Esteban answered. He was blushing furiously at his own blunder.</p> <p class="Textbody">"Well..." Zig Zag continued, sniffing back a few tears of laughter, "...I'll make <em>sure</em> to keep that in mind."</p> <p class="Textbody">Michael patted Esteban's shoulder. He moved easily in the toga now. It had taken him some time to learn to relax in it, but he'd gotten used to it. He flipped a fold over his arm for comfort and stood up straight.</p> <p class="Textbody">He grinned a little. "Sometimes, you really need to learn how to think before you speak, lobo..."</p> <p class="Textbody">Esteban mumbled something about making a fool of himself often enough that everyone else should be used to it by now, and started trudging off. He nearly got bowled over by a sprinting badger.</p> <p class="Textbody">"AY, MARVEEN...look where you're runneeng, compadre? I'm steell armed here," he said and shook his trident to prove his point.</p> <p class="Textbody">"Sorry Esteban. Look, I think you need to go take care of your vixen. I don't know what's come over her but she's using scissors on the air and she's not able to talk and she's shaking all over. I dunno what's going on but it's <em>not</em> pretty."</p> <p class="Textbody">Esteban just blinked. Then he tossed the trident aside and broke into a flat sprint towards the trailer, without another word. Gabrielle and Zig Zag exchanged glances and nods, and then followed.</p> <p class="Textbody">They reached the trailer together. Esteban tore the door open, rushing inside. His heart was pumping too fast to be healthy. Marvin had looked scared and he couldn't remember having seen Marvin scared in...well...probably forever.</p> <p class="Textbody">Everyone Jean came into contact with either ended up despising her or forming a protective wall around her. Esteban realized this. He also knew that everyone at the studio had done the latter.</p> <p class="Textbody">Jean was sitting in a chair next to the phone. A tiny pair of scissors lay on the floor in front of her and she seemed to be staring herself blind on them.</p> <p class="Textbody">Gabrielle gently eased the wolf out of the way and went up to the vixen, kneeling down beside her and removing the scissors. </p> <p class="Textbody">"Hey...shortstuff...what's up with you?" she asked, in a gentle, soothing voice.</p> <p class="Textbody">Esteban was about to join her. A striped paw on his shoulder stopped him and gently pulled him back. "Let her deal with this, Esteban. She's got years of experience. And for all your feelings, you don't," Zig Zag said, quietly. "I don't think anything's wrong..."</p> <p class="Textbody">"QUE? Look at her, Jefa? She's...she's catatoneec...I can't just <em>stand</em> here??" Esteban protested.</p> <p class="Textbody">Zig Zag shook her head. "Look at her eyes," was all she said.</p> <p class="Textbody">Esteban did. And relaxed.</p> <p class="Textbody">Gabrielle didn't hear. She took Jean's paws in her own and gave them a little squeeze. "Hello? Earth to Starship Vixen? Boldly going where no fur has gone before? What're you seeing out there..." she whispered. "Listen to me. I'm right here...next to you. What's happened."</p> <p class="Textbody">Jean blinked a few times. Like she was snapping out of a dream. She swallowed and pointed to the floor where the scissors had been, looking a bit confused.</p> <p class="Textbody">"I moved them, dear..." Gabrielle said and smiled reassuringly. "Tell me what happened?" </p> <p class="Textbody">"Phone..." Jean began. "Phone rang...it was..." </p> <p class="Textbody">Esteban sighed. He didn't like seeing the vixen like that. Zig Zag's paw on his shoulder tightened just enough for him to realize it wasn't time to move yet. </p> <p class="Textbody">Gabrielle took both Jean's paws in her own and smiled again, that same reassuring smile. "Was it good news?" she asked.</p> <p class="Textbody">Jean nodded. A smile started to spread on her face. "Doc Lupin..." she whispered.</p> <p class="Textbody">Gabrielle's smile grew considerably wider. "Go on?" she asked, barely able to stop herself from giggling.</p> <p class="Textbody">"They've set a date..." </p> <p class="Textbody">Zig Zag grinned crookedly. "When and where? I just need to know where to send the money, after all? Since I'm...taking care of the funds that were set aside for this."</p> <p class="Textbody">Jean looked over, as if only just then realizing that Esteban and Zig Zag were in fact also present. She still smiled. </p> <p class="Textbody">"Six weeks from tomorrow. John Husky's. The...best hospital in the country for this. I don't know how they got me in there. I really don't..."</p> <p class="Textbody">Esteban turned his head and looked at Zig Zag. He cleared his throat and kept his words slow and clear.</p> <p class="Textbody">"Jefa...I love you like a seester...and I theenk you are the best theeng seence the French fry...and eef aneeone were to ever hurt you, I'd hunt them to the end of the world make them pay...comprende?"</p> <p class="Textbody">Zig Zag blinked and nodded at the wolf.</p> <p class="Textbody">"But eef you don't let me go over there to hug my girlfriend right now, theatre blood or no...I'm goeeng to put you over my knee and spank you. No matter eef James Sheppard keells me for eet!" the wolf continued. Very seriously. </p> <p class="Textbody">Zig Zag laughed softly and removed her paw from Esteban's shoulder. "Fair enough. I think you should too," she said with a wink.</p> <p class="Textbody">Gabrielle cleared her throat and chuckled, getting up. She ruffled Jean's hair slightly and winked. "See? I told you...you'd get there."</p> <p class="Textbody">Then she left, making sure to take Zig Zag with her. </p> <p class="Textbody">They had the good graces to close the door securely after them, too.</p> <p class="separator">###</p> <p class="Textbody">Miriam opened the door and kicked off her shoes. A delicious scent of roast chicken wafted towards her. She'd learned fairly fast that Fox was an absolute disaster in a kitchen, with the exception of three or four dishes. Those, on the other paw, he could serve to royalty and presidents, and get sterling reviews. </p> <p class="Textbody">One of those was honey-roast chicken. </p> <p class="Textbody">She could feel her mouth water already. All her primal instincts as a chicken-rustler came up in her and her tail wagged wildly as she entered the kitchen. It connected directly to the hallway, so she didn't see a point in calling out to her boyfriend. He was already there.</p> <p class="Textbody">"Hey dear. That smells...absolutely incredible. And what's this? Wine, and your best silverware?" she asked and looked at the table. </p> <p class="Textbody">Fox grinned and took off his oven mitts after checking on the chicken. "Well, I figure we both have something to celebrate?"</p> <p class="Textbody">"That sounds good. Mind telling me what <em>I</em> have to celebrate too?" Miriam chuckled. "Sorry dear, I've had a rotten day in general and the only thing that's kept my mood reasonably high was knowing I was going to enjoy one of your four specialties."</p> <p class="Textbody">"Five. The fifth one is 'blackened everything with charcoal'. I can make that with almost any raw materials you give me. It's a talent," Fox said with a wink and took his glass off the table. "Anyway...cheers, Mir...I've looked forward to this day for several years."</p> <p class="Textbody">"Then I know it's got nothing to do with me at least. I haven't known you for that long," Miriam said and took her own glass, clinking it against his. </p> <p class="Textbody">"You're right," Fox said and sipped the wine. "Mm...this is good. I need to remember the year and the brand. Anyway...today, I got rid of a patient I <em>really</em> wanted to get rid of," he said with a big smile.</p> <p class="Textbody">"That isn't a very nice thing to say, dear. What's this fur done to deserve that?"</p> <p class="Textbody">"She's been seriously ill, that's all. Really seriously ill with a dreadful physical condition that's given her severe emotional trauma. Ahh well, it's out of my paws now."</p> <p class="Textbody">Miriam frowned. She was just about to admonish Fox for being so callous, when a few pieces of the puzzle started falling into place in her head. She half lidded her eyes and sipped her wine.</p> <p class="Textbody">"I see. And this patient...wouldn't happen to be the reason <em>I</em> have something to celebrate as well, would she?"</p> <p class="Textbody">Fox shrugged and took another sip. "Oh I really wouldn't know...after all, you know...doctor-patient confidentiality and all that. I really can't divulge such information to you," he said, managing to keep a straight face while sounding serious.</p> <p class="Textbody">"Y'know...I <em>could</em> sleep at home tonight," Miriam retorted.</p> <p class="Textbody">"Oh damned, what a horrible way to threaten a male," Fox whined. "Oh alright. She's your friend after all, so you'd find out from her anyway, as soon as she comes home from Virginia. I won't need to treat Jean LeBrun any longer. She'll be going into surgery six weeks from tomorrow. In New York."</p> <p class="Textbody">Miriam closed her eyes and sighed deeply in relief. "Thank you..." she whispered.</p> <p class="Textbody">Fox put his glass down and tilted his head slightly to one side. "Whatever for?"</p> <p class="Textbody">"For believing her. For helping her. For being such a good, <em>decent</em> fur. Just...thank you."</p> <p class="Textbody">"I just did my job, Miriam. If she hadn't needed this...she wouldn't have gotten there. I didn't do this for her. She did."</p> <p class="Textbody">"How do you mean?" Miriam asked and looked a little confused.</p> <p class="Textbody">"This...entire procedure, Mir...it's not about the patient convincing anyone that she needs help. That's not what it's all about. That's what...most furs <em>think</em> it's about. That some fur comes in to a shrinks office, lays down on a chaise and starts talking about their childhood and a few years later, snip, snip, clonk, they get a sex-change. It's not like that..." Fox said and sat down.</p> <p class="Textbody">"I kinda figured, but...I guess I don't understand the principle. I'm not the psychiatrist here. You are. Is this something you're allowed to tell me?" Miriam asked and took a seat as well.</p> <p class="Textbody">"Sure I am. This is general procedural method. Not about any specific patient. Look, of course a <em>part</em> of it is for the patient to show the counselor that he or she is doing the right thing. After all, this procedure can happen both from male to femme and from femme to male. Anyway...that's part of it. For the sake of professional integrity, we have to be convinced that the fur sitting in front of us is not suffering from multiple identity disorder or delusions of some bizarre sort...or is just angling for sympathy or attention for that matter. We even have to make sure the patient isn't a transvestite. Despite the fact that most furs out there don't know the difference...there is a <em>huge</em> difference."</p> <p class="Textbody">"I know that one. Jean explained that to me one of the first times she and I really had time to talk. A transvestite gets a sense of sexual arousal from dressing as the opposite gender. A transsexual couldn't care less about sex and any kind of arousal makes them sick to their stomachs because it involves body-parts that they can't face having. Because they're not supposed to be there, so to speak," Miriam said, calmly. "I know the difference there at least."</p> <p class="Textbody">Fox nodded and looked at the oven. The chicken wasn't done yet so he continued. "That pretty much sums it up, yes. Lots of furs get offended about transvestites. The point for many, possibly even most, transvestites is to be seen and to be <em>found out</em>. Not to be <em>completely</em> passable. They want to be seen and they want those around them to <em>realize</em> what they're doing. Because of that, they are in a sense using other furs who aren't necessarily willing to take part, for their own sexual gratification. Unfortunately...when a transsexual is 'found out'...they get the same kind of negative reactions in most cases, because the world around them generally can't tell the difference."</p> <p class="Textbody">"Ouch...she never went to that much detail but I suppose that makes sense."</p> <p class="Textbody">Fox got up and took the coleslaw out of the fridge, and put it on the table with a sigh and a shrug. "It's a bloody mess inside the head of a transsexual, Miriam...you have no idea. A lot of counsellors won't even go near those cases because of their own phobias and prejudices too and when even doctors turn their backs on them who <em>can</em> they turn to for support and help? Often no one at all. Jean has been unbelievably lucky. She's had a network. She's had support."</p> <p class="Textbody">Miriam nodded and pondered that a moment. "You said it wasn't about her convincing you, deep down, bottom line. What is it about then?"</p> <p class="Textbody">Fox smiled a little and got the oven mitts back on to get the chicken. "She has to be sure. She has to come to terms. With herself. To stop hating herself, and look objectively at herself. Find value in herself. When that happens...she will understand that what she suffers from isn't a mental disease. It's a physical disability."</p> <p class="Textbody">"So you're telling me...she has to get to a point where surgery isn't the main thing anymore? For her to get surgery? That doesn't make any sense, Fox..." Miriam said and blinked. She was trying to digest the information she was given.</p> <p class="Textbody">"No, that's not it. But she has to want that surgery for the <em>right</em> reasons. If she thinks this will solve all her problems, and she'll wake up in the hospital bed afterwards, laying on rose-petals and looking at the world through some pink haze, where everything will be hunky-dory...she's in for a rude awakening. She needs to understand that this is a lifelong struggle. Uphill most of the way. And she has to have the strength to face that struggle. She can't have that strength, if she doesn't see any value in herself. If she thinks that it's all about her <em>feeling</em> like a femme, and <em>knowing</em> she's a femme emotionally and mentally, and if only the physical and mental parts mesh, then everything will be fine...she's headed right for disaster. The world is never only black and white. She'll live her life in the gray areas. But she knows these things now."</p> <p class="Textbody">Miriam smiled and nodded. "I see what you mean. She needs to be able to look at herself as a <em>whole</em> fur. With a life to live...good times and bad. Yes. Then you're right. She does know."</p> <p class="Textbody">Fox smiled and took the oven mitts off again, sitting down. </p> <p class="Textbody">"Will you carve the chicken, please?"</p> </body> </html>