For all who hate goodbyes

Sabrina put the last few things from her desk in her cardboard box and looked at her empty workstation. It was a weird and somehow unpleasant feeling to say goodbye to it all. She had always thought that the day she left ZZ Studios, she'd be dancing down the street. 

Now she realized that was rather foolish. 

The job Zig Zag had given her had been a part of her life for years, and while she had always found it difficult to deal with the sexual innuendo and the...well...the lifestyle around the studio, she still had to admit she liked the furs there. They were nice individuals. 

She looked at the photo she had on the desk of her and R.C. from a year or so ago, when they were on vacation together. It brought a smile to her face. This was the right thing to do. She had a future with R.C., and she wanted to pursue it. Besides, nothing prevented her from staying in contact with the furs in this place. 

Well...nothing except her own inhibitions, at least. 

But hadn't she changed at all, since starting at ZZ Studios? Hadn't she put some of those inhibitions behind her? 

Not many, she had to admit but at least she had a good working relationship with everyone at the office. Zig Zag herself was someone she counted as a friend. After the skunk had started dating James, the incessant innuendo had worn off and it had improved relations between them immensely. 

"So...thees ees eet, Sabreena?"  

The skunk smiled, without looking up from her packing. "This is it, Esteban. I'll be out of here in half an hour or so. Did Zig Zag hire a replacement for me yet, do you know?" she asked. 

The wolf stepped around to the front of the desk and shrugged. "Not that I know of, no. I don't theenk she likes to see you go." 

Sabrina put the last items from her drawers into the box and closed the top of it. All that remained was to sit down by the computer and make sure everything was set up and ready for whomever came after her.  

"Strangely enough, I don't really like to go either," she said. 

"Strangelee? Sabreena, have we reallee been that horreeble?" Esteban asked, sounding a little hurt. 

The skunk looked up and adjusted her glasses with a warm smile. "No. And that's exactly why I think it's strange. You've been nice furs, and I'll miss you. When I started working here, I didn't think I'd miss anyone once I left, but I will. Once Zig stopped constantly making passes at me..." 

Esteban couldn't conceal a grin. 

Sabrina ignored it and continued. "...I have to say that I've grown to respect her." 

Nodding, but still smiling, Esteban folded his arms over his chest. "You deedn't reallee theenk we were goeeng to just let you walk out the door and vaneesh, though, deed you?" 

"Erhh..?" 

"SURPRIIIIISE!!" 

Esteban's smile had gone downright smug. The shout from all the other employees had nearly knocked Sabrina off her feet. It was something she hadn't expected. Smiling and looking slightly embarrassed, she corrected her glasses on her muzzle. They had nearly fallen off as she jumped from surprise. 

"Jeez...guys..." she began and blushed furiously. 

Zig Zag stepped out from her office with a grin on her face, leaning on the door frame. "You didn't think I was going to let you just walk out of here without a proper goodbye, did you?" she asked, half-lidding her eyes and looking entirely too clever for her own good. 

Sabrina's blush grew, if possible, even deeper. "I don't know what to say..." she tried. 

Zig Zag pushed off the door frame and walked over to the others. "You could, for instance, say 'yes' to my next question. Will you continue to do cover art and work for this studio, from home? I'd pay you as a freelancer but the difference with you and other freelancers is...with you I know what I get, and I like it!" 

For a moment, Sabrina's eyes narrowed and she was about to raise an admonishing finger at her boss. "You...why...I..." she began...then realized it wasn't meant as innuendo. Then finally, she nodded and smiled a little. "Yeah sure. The money is good after all, and it gives you a legitimate reason to call me once in a while. Somehow I think I'd better supply that up front, or you'll think up all kinds of bogus reasons instead, won't you, Zig?" 

The tiger-striped skunk put a paw to her chest and batted her lashes in a vision of pure, untrustworthy innocence. "Who...me? Would I do something like that? Honestly?" she said. 

"YES!" everyone else shouted, unanimously. 

Zig Zag mock-deflated. "Oh well, guilty as charged I suppose. Anyway, I've got something for you before you leave," she said and held out an envelope to Sabrina. 

"What's this?" 

"Your severance pay, hotstuff. Probably the most money I've ever paid to someone who flatly refused to act for me." 

That got a laugh from everyone. Zig Zag put an arm around Sabrina's shoulder and turned her around to head into the common room. For once, Sabrina didn't flinch at Zig Zag's touch. She did feel touched at the gesture, however. 

### 

"You definitely have a way with furs, Jean," Doctor Lupin chuckled and very carefully examined the swollen side of the vixen's face.

Despite herself, Jean chuckled. She wished she hadn't...it was a painful experience. Shrugging, she tilted her head to the side to let the wolf have a closer look at the injuries. The doctor was simply checking to see if the swelling was behaving as it should. 

"I know," she muttered. It was still unpleasant to speak.  

"Have you contacted the police?"  

"University did that for me..." 

Doc Lupin nodded and leaned back in his chair. "I don't see you very often anymore, Jean. Are you doing okay? In general I mean?" 

Jean managed something vaguely resembling a smile on the good side of her face and nodded. "I'm getting married," she said and actually felt herself blush. It was silly, but doctors always had been authority figures to her.  

The wolf smiled widely. "Well, I must insist you tell me when and where so I can at least send a card," he chuckled.  

Nodding, Jean closed her eyes against a momentary stab of pain. She groaned a little. "We haven't set a date yet..." she explained. "Something else...always seems to come up. Nine eleven, then a friend of mine shot her boyfriend when he tried to kill her. Gabrielle has been in Europe..." 

Doc Lupin nodded again. "Then let me, as your MD, suggest that you get a date set as soon as possible. Both you and Esteban could probably do with something happy and positive to look forward to." 

Jean thought about that, then nodded. "I will, Doc. I'll talk to him when I get home and we'll fix a date." 

"Good girl. As for your face, I recommend a big, juicy steak and some fur conditioner..." 

"Fur conditioner?" 

"To get the steak-juice out of your fur when you're done," Doc Lupin said with a crooked grin. "Otherwise, take an aspirin when you need to dull the pain. Fortunately, nothing was broken but he must've smashed up a lot of small blood vessels with that punch. Good thing you managed to turn your head a little or he could've damaged your eye." 

Jean shrugged. "I need glasses anyway." 

"Really? What's keeping you then?" the wolf asked. 

Jean put her thumb and index finger together and rubbed them against one another. "Money," she said, simply. "But that's not an excuse anymore now that I have a job. So these days it's more a matter of 'not getting it done'." 

Doc Lupin nodded. He often heard that. Furs needing glasses kept putting it off for some reason. Most didn't mind getting them, and almost all of them were very happy when they did get their eyesight back in full, but for some reason, most kept putting it off for as long as possible. 

"You're going to be okay, Jean. You take care, now...and don't let the bastard who hit you get you down," he said with a smile. 

Jean shook her head. "Not a chance. The days of my emotional collapses are long gone, Doc. I'm stronger than that now." 

With that, she got up and took her jacket, and headed out of the office. 

### 

Emma was getting used to her new job. The hours were very nice. It wasn't a full time job, but some days she did have to stay a few extra hours. Typically when someone had died and their private records came into the possession of the historical society. Such things needed archiving. Whatever the actual number of work hours a week, however, Emma knew she could live on what she got, and live better than she had before, too. What little her parents could help her with, along with odd jobs now and then had not allowed her to live very comfortably. Fortunately, the apartment had been very cheap. Even so, there had been more months than she liked to admit, where she had only come through because of the kindness of her friends. 

Of course...Jeremy had paid for the apartment a couple of months. He had said it was his duty. Then, she had thought it was chivalrous of him. Now she knew what he had really meant.

It wasn't his duty to help her out, it was his duty to make sure she couldn't help herself. 

It was behind her now, anyway. 

"See you tomorrow, Josephine," she said and put on her jacket.  

A feline wearing even thicker glasses than Emma looked up from her desk and nodded. "Oh yes...you take care now." 

Emma nodded to her colleague and left the office with a smile on her face. She just needed to catch a bus and she'd be home in time to have dinner with her landlady. No doubt, that'd be a nice experience. Swinging her jacket over her shoulder, she found herself whistling a little tune as she took the stairs in jumps of two, before finally she found herself on the ground floor. She nodded to a male ermine working in another office in the building, also heading home, and pushed open the door. 

At least, she tried to. 

At least, she thought she had nodded to such a fur. 

Suddenly, she felt a paw around her throat, from behind, and an angry growl near her ear told her that she was in a lot of trouble. 

"Did you think you could get away with it? Did you, you fucking whore?"  

The voice was so hateful that Emma nearly began to cry. She swallowed and tried to turn her head to see her assailant. She didn't even know what to answer. It felt like someone had filled her stomach with ice cubes. She couldn't turn her head. The paw around her throat was too tight and in fact, she was having trouble breathing. 

"Jeremy was my cousin, and I'm not going to let you get away with cold blooded murder. Do you think anyone believes a word of your bullshit story about how he used to beat you up?" the ermine snarled. The question was almost certainly rhetorical, since he was grabbing Emma so hard by the throat that answering was impossible. 

For a moment, the mink thought her last moment had come. What was wrong with Jeremy's family anyway? Were they all a bunch of violent shits like this? She was angry, but more than that, she was afraid.  

"I know...someone...believed in me...and it was the truth," she wheezed. "The judge and jury." 

Every word hurt. Not as much as the blow to her kidneys. It made her cry out. Not loudly, due to the paw on her throat and her lack of air, but apparently, loud enough.  

"HEY...WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING??" a male voice roared behind the two. 

The paw around Emma's throat immediately let go and she dropped to her knees, heaving for breath. The sound of the ermine rushing past her and out the door was accompanied by one last growl. 

"It's not over yet. You'll suffer for what you did, whore!" 

Then she passed out. 

### 

Leo rubbed his eyes. It wasn't that late, but he'd had a long day. It wasn't that he was bored. It was difficult to be bored when laying down barrages five or six times a day, but he was weary. It was already becoming routine. Most of the day was spent sitting around the guns, waiting for orders or a call for help. Then suddenly, three or four minutes of frantic, nerve wracking action...and then another long wait. 

Most of the troops had brought books. At least it gave them something to do. Corporal Brock had tried setting up a small, portable radio but despite assuring his comrades that it had a powerful receiver, it caught either static, news in Russian or some lady singing what was presumably the Chinese equivalent of Britney Spears. 

After the initial rounds of surprised laughter, the troops had unanimously decided that news in Russian sounded better than the Chinese lady. 

Five minutes later, Corporal Brock had turned off the radio, grumbling to himself. 

Thirty minutes later, they had run out of dirty jokes to tell.  

Scratching his cheek, Sergeant Pardinus muttered something about having the Afghan blues...which prompted Private Why-Seven-Minutes to pull out his harmonica. A moment later they were all laughing and jamming along to an impromptu blues-session, trying to come up with good lyrics to a sort of generic blues-track that the chipmunk was churning out on his small instrument. 

About an hour later, they had indeed come up with 'Afghan blues'. The problem was then what to do next. Leo suggested his troops took turns to take a nap, in between action. They'd wake up fast enough if they needed to fire anyway. If they napped, they'd at least wake up and be fresh instead of firing half-drowsy.  

"Hey, Sarge..." Corporal Twain called out and raised a paw like a student in a classroom. 

Sergeant Pardinus lit up a cigar and nodded. "Yup, Corporal?" 

Grinning ear to ear, the percheron tried to look very needy. "Can I be excused from class? I need to use the bathroom." 

"Piss in your pants, Corporal, and be a male about it," Sergeant Pardinus grumbled, but with a smile on his face.  

Corporal Twain pouted for a moment, then stuck his paw up again. "Hey, Sarge..." 

"Yes, Corporal?" Sergeant Pardinus replied, sounding weary already. 

"Is it true girls have cooties?" 

"Only your mama, Corporal." 

Another pout, amidst laughter.  

Leo grinned and shook his head, lighting up a cigarette. He didn't smoke much yet, but he was well aware he'd probably develop a habit while he was gone. No doubt Lizzy would pick it out of him when he got home. Blowing a smoke-ring, he leaned forwards and put his knees on his elbows.  

It was just another boring afternoon in Afghanistan.  

### 

"Nonono NO!" 

Rita Sanchez rolled her eyes and threw up her paws in exasperation. Every dancer on stage immediately stopped. 

"Look, we've got someone watching rehearsals today, and I know that's unusual but does that mean you have to dance like first year ballet-students?" she whimpered. "Look at Malcolm. He's more or less the only one of you holding his act together, but you can't expect miracles when his partner FALLS OVER ON STAGE???"  

Malcolm looked at the femme picking herself up off the floor with an apologetic expression on his face. He didn't like being singled out for praise like that. Apparently, though, no one disagreed. 

He shot a glance down into the darkness of the almost empty stalls. Timothy was sitting down there, next to a female Persian feline. Occasionally, they'd share a few words and take down a few notes on a notepad.  

Rita looked at Malcolm and shook her head. "Take ten minutes to talk to your boyfriend or something. I'm going to see if I can't get this chickenshit dance company to perform," she grumbled. Clearly, the panther was very annoyed. 

Malcolm nodded and looked around the stage, before heading up towards the back where Timothy and the feline were seated. 

"Hey gorgeous. You strike quite a figure up there. Why don't you ever swing me around like that?" Timothy grinned. 

The feline next to him couldn't help a smile. "Probably because you're not some eighty-pounds-soaking-wet little number, nor are you trained to keep your balance when lifted like that." 

Malcolm nodded. "That's pretty much it," he said and ran a paw through his mane. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Malcolm." 

"So I gathered," the femme said. "I'm Valerie. It's nice of your company to allow the university paper to come witness a rehearsal like this for the culture pages." 

Now it was Timothy's turn to smile. "It pays to live with the lead dancer," he pointed out and whistled innocently. 

"You never told me your boyfriend was that good looking...or that fit though," Valerie grinned and nudged the bronco with an elbow. 

"If I did, half of campus would try to run off with him, and I'd have to fight everyone off constantly," Timothy said and shrugged. 

Malcolm laughed softly and kissed his boyfriend gently. "As if you'd need to. I'm not about to let anyone else run off with me." 

A couple of hoots went up from the stage at that show of affection.  

"HEY...MALCOLM, WHY DON'T YOU EVER KISS ME LIKE THAT?" one of the stagepaws shouted with a wide grin on his face. 

"BECAUSE YOUR WIFE WOULD KILL YOU, BILL, AND BESIDES YOUR BEARD WOULD ITCH!" Malcolm shouted back without even looking. 

Timothy facepawed and groaned. "Well, at least it seems they've taken your 'coming out' rather nicely," he chuckled. 

Valerie blinked and looked between the two stallions. "What, you mean to say you've been in the closet, and you're a dancer??" she asked. "That's certainly novel."

"And you're stereotyping, Valerie. Bad kitty," Timothy said and mock-swatted his female colleague. 

Valerie smiled and shrugged. "Maybe so but you have to admit that most stereotypes come into existence for a reason." 

Malcolm came to the feline's rescue by nodding. "I've been very silly, thinking that I'd meet prejudice in this place. Everyone has been completely supportive since I told them about Timothy, and frankly I feel better for it. I am not ashamed of who I am, and I'm certainly not ashamed of him...but I have been worried that others would make my life difficult. Dancing is about trusting one another. If my dancing partners don't trust me, or feel loathed to touch me, I'll have a problem when performing." 

Valerie nodded. That made sense to her. Finally, she smiled again. "So, how long have you two been a couple for?" 

"Several years," Timothy said and quickly snatched the feline's notepad out of her paws. "And you're not taking this down for the paper. It's private, you shameless hussy, you." 

Valerie grinned widely. "Can't blame a journalist for trying." 

Malcolm just laughed. "Well, I don't mind." 

Chuckling, Timothy gave the notepad back. "I've invited Valerie for tomorrow evening. We're going to finish up that article together. I figured we could whip up something interesting for dinner, no?" 

Malcolm nodded and smiled. He had no problem with that. He was about to answer when Rita called him back to the stage. Looking apologetic, he shrugged and headed back there.  

"Okay," Rita groaned. "One more time, from the top...and get it RIGHT this time, furs!" 

### 

Esteban sat down at the table across from Jean. They were getting something to eat at a diner, instead of cooking themselves. None of them felt like it after what had just happened. Jean looked pale and exhausted. Esteban's eyes were puffy, like he'd been crying. 

"Do you theenk she'll ever escape eet?" the wolf asked at last. His voice betrayed his emotional state. 

Jean just shrugged. The food in front of her had barely been touched. She swallowed, trying to make her tongue feel less thick in her mouth. 

"I don't know. I know Miriam and Fox come home tomorrow, and Fox offered to help but...but what kind of request is that to make of newlyweds? And at the same time, I know I will ask him to help. Emma deserves nothing less," she said, quietly.

Esteban nodded. Across the street and a few houses down, a police-car was waiting. It had been parked there since Emma went home. But what about when they left? No doubt, Jeremy's family wasn't stupid enough to try anything else the same day. But what about tomorrow? Or the next day? For all the wolf knew, there was someone keeping an eye on that patrol car, and as soon as it drove away, Emma's life would be turned into living hell... 

If they let her live. 

"There has to be sometheeng we can do?" he said, wearily. 

Jean smiled bitterly, despite the ache in her own bruised face. "Oh yes...let's all go confront Jeremy's family, Esteban...it worked so well last..." 

She stopped herself. The look on Esteban's face was one of pure agony. Tears were pressing their way to the fore again. Jean hurried to reach out to grab his paw.  

"I'm sorry, Esteban. That was so uncalled for. It was wrong...and hurtful and...oh God, please forgive me." 

"Eet's okay, Chica. I know I'm to blame for thees..." 

"NO! You're not. We've been through that. Stop blaming yourself. You and Leo didn't turn Jeremy into a murderous bastard, okay? He already was." 

Esteban nodded and looked at his plate again with a sniffle. "I just weesh there was...sometheeng...aneetheeng...I could do."

For a moment, Jean thought of shrugging again. Then an idea crept into the back of her mind. Slowly...very slowly...a smile began to spread on her face. "Maybe there is, Esteban. Just maybe there is," she said, thoughtfully. "I need to work on this idea but I think there is a way to help Emma...once and for all." 

Esteban looked up from the table. He didn't look convinced. "You're not just sayeeng that to make me feel better are you, Chica?" he asked, trying to steady his voice. 

Jean shook her head. "No. I think it's time we got Jeremy Mustela's family back good and proper!" she said and narrowed her eyes. "They're not pissing on me, Esteban...they're pissing on my friends and that's a lot worse."

The wolf was about to answer. Then he saw the look in Jean's eyes and swallowed. 

"Sometimes, Chica...you scare me," he whimpered. 

Jean smiled widely, suddenly all cheerful again. "On a much brighter note, Love, we have something else to talk about. Doctors orders." 

Esteban looked confused. "Doctors orders?" he asked. "Sometheeng about the furs at uneeverseetee heetteeng you?"  

Jean shook her head and leaned back, pushing her plate away a bit. She wasn't hungry anyway. She looked at Esteban across the table and felt a momentary pang of guilt for her outburst earlier. It had been downright mean of her and she felt bad for it. She'd have to somehow make it up to him. 

"We have to set a date, Esteban," she said. "For the wedding. I almost put it off again with what had happened to Emma, but every time we sit down to talk about this, something seems to happen to put it off. We owe it to everyone to at least tell them when it will be." 

Esteban nodded, thoughtfully. Jean was right. Besides, Yohni and Gabrielle had already said that the date was something they left up to him and Jean to decide, but nonetheless, it'd be a double ceremony of sorts, and he felt bad about letting everyone wait. Scratching his neck, he tried to think of a good time for it. Surely it wasn't feasible until some time after new year anyway. Maybe in early spring. That way, there was also a chance that Leo could attend. On extended leave or, possibly, if the war was over, he would be back home permanently.  

That would be good. He wanted the lion to be his best male.  

"Spreeng, no? Eet eesn't reallee posseeble before that." 

Jean nodded. "I was thinking the same thing. Shall we aim for the last weekend of March then?" 

Esteban grinned. "See? Eet wasn't even deefeecult. What deed that take us? A meenute? A meenute thirtee seconds tops!" 

Laughing, Jean nodded and reached for her drink. She wasn't hungry but she could do with something to wash down the nasty taste Emma's predicament had left in her mouth.  

"Last weekend of March it is then," she said. 

### 

"I'm going to miss her, James." 

Zig Zag cleared off the table and shrugged. Dinner had been excellent in every respect. James had managed to find an excellent piece of fillet, and after carefully frying it in a mixture of red wine and garlic it had been so tender, Zig Zag had almost been able to chew it by batting her long lashes at it. Add the steamed vegetables and the meal had added up to something dangerously close to divinity. 

For some reason, though, the skunk was still somber and somewhat moody. The reason for it was obvious. After Sabrina had left the studio, a sadness had quickly spread. 

None had really summed it up better than Rafe, who had looked at the doors after Sabrina had left, and quietly said: "There goes our collective decency." 

Everyone had just agreed. Zig Zag herself had felt a need to retreat to her office to save her mascara, without letting anyone know just how affected by it all she was. 

"I know," James said and got to his feet to help with the dishes. "But you did say she accepted your suggestion?" 

Zig Zag nodded and smiled slightly. "Yeah, she did. It's good money no matter what and she can probably use it. I'm sure she and R.C. will end up having a whole litter of kids, and every penny helps in that case." 

"I dunno, really. You know how mixed species couples often have trouble having children..." James pointed out and started putting the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. 

"Yeah, I suppose. I guess. Anyway...how has your day gone?" the skunk asked and slipped an arm around James' waist. 

James smiled warmly and turned his head, kissing his girlfriend's nose. "It was horrible. But who cares, I'm here with you now," he said. 

"You'll get everywhere with me if you keep talking like that, y'know," Zig Zag chuckled, snuggling up to the coyote. "What made it so terrible though?"  

"Just been one of those days where everything has gone wrong. Canceled orders, employees who should have stayed in bed to diminish their capacity for doing damage to my business...you name it, it probably happened and if I didn't see it, it probably happened anyway somewhere else in the building," James said. For a moment, he looked tired. 

Zig Zag changed position a little, slipping her arms around James from behind, resting her cheek on his back. "Maybe you should let the dishes wait until tomorrow, then," she purred. 

James recognized that voice and smiled, letting dirty dishes be dirty dishes. He could think of better things to do with his time that evening.