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T_his isn't happening. This isn't happening. This isn't happening._

There was urgent, soul-piercing beeping from somewhere. A weary-eyed Lynx doctor rushed down the sanitized corridor, whipping up the stale smell of disinfectant. He didn't even glance at me sitting against the wall. His white lab coat flapped behind him in his haste, and his tufted ears were back as he shoved his way into a room further away.

None of this is real. I'm having a nightmare. I'll wake up, and everything will be fine. It's not real.

There was a shout from the room the doctor had gone into. Like a choreographed dance, a gaggle of nurses flitted from their work stations with serious expressions stilling their faces. One paused--a squirrel, right in front of me--as the rest sprinted past. I wasn't looking up, but I watched their white sneakered feet shift about--unsurely almost--for just a moment before someone called and they took off. The rabid beeping continued. The shouting continued.

I just pulled my knees in tighter and sobbed. My broken arm was limp by my side.

Please let me wake up. This can't be real. He can't be...

But I felt the icy tile floor of the hospital biting cold into my buttocks; I felt the fire in my lungs and the tightness in my chest; every fiber of my body was screaming and in shock, and agonizing pressure had built at the base of my neck and crept into my skull until every blink of my red eyes sent pain rocketing down my spine to the tip of my flaccid tail. My broken arm was constantly thrumming agony. I couldn't feel my legs. How long had I been splayed here? Where was here? I'm pretty sure this was an area of limits to non-personnel. How long had it been since I'd collapsed while waiting for a doctor to tell me something? When had I gotten here? Minutes ago? Hours? Days? Why was I alone? Where were my parents? No--I didn't want them.

I want my uncle.

My throat bulged dryly as I swallowed a sob, but I couldn't stop the pathetic bark of despair that accompanied it from escaping from between my clenched teeth.

Everything had happened so fucking quick.

I could still see my uncle and his friend Devrol with their backs turned to me, bodies outlined white by the spotlights they'd erected to work in the dark on that damn, mammoth tractor. Uncle had run over something and popped the innermost wheel of the two front-left, so they'd spent the entire morning getting both tires off to patch the hole. Then Devrol, being the worrywart and perfectionist that he was, wanted to check the fluid lines and brake pads.

I remember watching the heavy-duty jack that the old horse was using to keep the tractor lifted up. After comparing the monstrous size and weight of the machine to that paltry piece of supportive metal, I remember thinking to myself, "That doesn't look safe." I especially didn't like when the two furs flopped onto the ground to lie down beneath the thing!

"It'll be fine, Lancelot," my uncle had said. He'd been smiling, which had made me smile. He was happy out there working and having good company with his friend.I didn't say anything.

It should've been me helping him, but with my arm...

I recall the whinny of frustration from Devrol as something he was probing with a screwdriver squirted fluid down his front.

"RAAH! Go grab me a towel, Lee--if you'd be so kind," he'd asked, tossing the screwdriver away in a huff.

The Palomino had always had a temper. I think that's why he got along with my uncle so much, because they loved to tear each other a new one whenever they got the chance.

I'd gone for the towel in my uncle's shop. It would have taken, maybe, three minutes. I hadn't liked leaving them out there, but I knew they were tough, elbow-greased adults and they'd be fine.

But then there'd been a metallic PANG and a buckling groan--a hasty shout was quickly cut too short by a thunderous crash.

Dead silence.

I'd stood frozen by fear of what I'd heard. It couldn't have been what I'd thought--it couldn't have. Any second I'd hear Devrol bellowing something to Uncle, and then they'd argue, laugh afterwards, come hobbling into the shop with their arms around one another.

But no.

Shuffling back out with wide, anxious eyes, I'd seen the tractor all but upended on its left side. And where Uncle and Devrol had been...there were wrenched, contorted legs...I ran to them screaming (I think I'd been screaming)...no sound from them...Devrol's eyes had been open...fogged over...gone...blood dribbled from his mouth and nose...Uncle's eyes...closed too...but...he'd groaned...

I can hardly remember calling 911.

It took the fire department, police, and paramedics ten minutes to get to the farm, and all the while I stayed by Uncle's side. A millenia could have passed by the time I heard the sirens. I knew Uncle's life had been draining with each agonizing second, and I'd never felt so helpless while I'd cowered next to him and held his head in my lap, writhing and waiting for someone to come and save him. Each weak breath that sputtered out of his pale lips I feared would be his last. Each clench of his jaws in unconsciousness, every flick of his lidded eyes...I...I had to scream to myself that they were signs of life. He wasn't going to die. He was too strong.

He couldn't leave me.

I didn't want to leave him. But a policeman pried me away from him. I recognized the cop, too, when my sight left my Uncle's body long enough to see who had ahold of me. It was the detective from the Haunt--Crowley--and he kept telling me everything was going to be alright. His voice had been muffled in my shocked state, but his concern was unmistakable. I wanted to believe him.

My uncle had to be okay--he was all I had.

No, there was someone else...

I thumbed my phone in my paw as I sat, and then my ears flicked as a familiar voice echoed down the corridor. She was here. She was yelling. I clenched my eyes and my head seemed to split in half. I was tired of the yelling. No, I was just tired.

There were rapid footsteps coming toward me. I don't know why, but I squeezed myself into a tighter little ball of sorrow, hoping to hide myself and keep her from seeing me like this...

"Lee! Oh my God...why didn't you text me sooner!?"

I didn't uncurl myself. At the sound of her voice I'd started crying again. My shoulders were racking and bouncing with my sobs and sending fiery pain shooting down my spine and broken arm, but my tumult didn't even cause her to pause.

Gentle arms wrapped protectively around me and squeezed warmth into my pathetic form; a soft muzzle nuzzled against the side of my hidden face and then rested atop my head; a plush, comforting tail wrapped like a blanket around my back. I felt both relief and utter despair as she seemed to envelop me in herself--to be there with me and make me open up and feel better. She knew how I closed myself off to the world, but she also knew how to crack my stubbornness and get my emotions out when she thought it'd be best for me. She'd kept me from sinking. She'd become my life-saver.

"Kelly," I whimpered, lifting my face. My tongue curled, prepared to form words to get things off of my chest at the sight of her. That had become a routine; Kelly was my confidant--my only one...at the moment. "I...I..."

"Hey, hey," she cooed. She cupped her soft paws around my face, her thumbs stroking along the moist ridges of my cheeks. Her eyes were wide but endearing, her black lips wriggling between a frown and a sad smile and popping out in contrast to her white fur. I hicced a cry and she leaned forward and pressed her forehead to mine; her black hair wasn't pulled back as usual, and it spilled out of the hood of her jacket to tickle across my face. It smelled nice, I noticed--like lavender. "It's alright," she whispered, her breath trickling like hot water down my snout. "He'll be alright." I coughed and wrapped my good arm around her, crying into her shoulder. The ermine's body stiffened briefly, but then she melted and held me tight. "He'll be alright."

She held me there for I don't know how long. My legs had woken up, but sharp pain cut into my tibia' laid flat against the unforgiving tile floors. I knew Kelly was in pain, too--from squatting in the hall, from seeing me like this--but she didn't complain.

"Hello?" someone said curiously. The voice was cool and gentle, soothing--female.

I felt Kelly's head shift as she looked up. Her arms tightened around me. "Yes?"

"Is everything alright?"

Another sob jerked its way out of me, but Kelly wasn't fazed. "We're waiting on news about someone who's been hurt. So, no, we're not alright--but thank you for asking."

"Oh," the voice mumbled, embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so insensitive."

Kelly let a small giggle wriggle out of her. "You didn't."

"Okay," the voice said in relief. "Well, is there anything you two need? Maybe you'd be more comfortable in the OR's waiting room? You'd be safe from getting run over, and it's just down here."

I wanted this person to fuck off. Leave us alone. Stop trying to be civil and go do their job--namely, save my uncle.

"Yeah," Kelly sighed. "Lee? Want to go?"

I didn't budge.

"Wait," the voice chimed both shockingly and curious. "Lee?"

Go away.

"Do you know him?" Kelly asked.

How could they know me? Get the fuck on.

"Yes," the voice said, much closer. I think they'd leaned down. Then I felt another paw on my shoulder. "He's a...uh...good friend of my brother."

Wait, what? I sniffed and snapped my head up to see who this mystery person was and came eye to eye with an arctic fox--Claire Clemmons.

Sasha's sister?

She was duked out in a complete set of unflattering, maroon colored scrubs. A badge was swinging from a lanyard around her neck, and she had a bundle of folders clutched under her arm. Her tail flicked about behind her, and she tucked a stray auburn curl behind her right ear before tilting her head toward me and gazing intently. "Lee, what's happened?" Her voice was tense. "What's going on?"

From the way she was probing, eyes aflame and muzzle twitching, she must have thought something had happened to Sasha again. I always seemed to be around when her brother was in danger or inured, so I guess her worry shouldn't have struck me as a surprise. Still, she thought Sasha and I were close and...well, I...I don't know. I hadn't been to their house once after the Haunt. I couldn't face Sasha; I couldn't face his parents either. Not that they had a reason to be angry with me, but...I couldn't look them in the eyes after I'd put their son in danger again. Sure, it had been Red and I that had gotten hurt, but Sasha...if not for that Detective Crowley...

"Lee?" Claire asked sharply, snapping me out of my gloom.

"I...it's my...my uncle," I stammered.

I grimaced at her instant relief. Maybe her brother wasn't hurt, but my uncle was. How could she be happy? At least in front of me she could have shown a little concern; her lack of it hurt...more.

But then she frowned intensely as her eyes roved over me. I guess my agony was evident on my face and...I looked down, following the fox's gaze, and found blood on my shirt...Uncle's blood.

"Oh my God," she gasped. "What happened?" She shuffled closer. My eyes burned as I fought back more tears.

"CLEMMONS!"

We all jumped at the voice that boomed down the corridor--Claire especially. She whipped her head around, stood, and peered toward the nurse's station at the end of the hall. I gazed too and saw a scrubbed, matronly cow propped against the wall-length desk and staring at us...or at Claire.

"Yes?" Claire called back.

The Jersey waggled a red finger, curling it and calling Claire over. The fox sighed, glanced sympathetically at me and Kelly, and then she padded off whispering "I'll be right back."

Kelly watched her curiously and then turned to me. "Is that...your Sasha's sister?"

"Y...yeah," I stuttered, my insides squirming. Of course I'd told her about Sasha and Red and me. Once she'd cracked me open I spilled everything to her. She was just that good. She knew everything. It pained me to think that she was so enlightened to my circumstances, but she didn't seem to care about my attraction to Sasha. She'd never met him, but she'd said they'd probably get along. They had a lot in common after all.

She cocked an eyebrow and tried to lighten the mood a bit. "She's really pretty. Should I be jealous?"

I just stared. I would have given anything to laugh. Normally I would have, but...not now. I couldn't. I had no spirit left in me to even muster a faint smile.

"No," I just sighed. "Don't."

"Not your type, huh?" Kelly said, her smile weaker, eyes wandering.

"No."

"She doesn't have a penis," I thought bitterly. "But her brother," wandered my thoughts. I instantly felt guilty, too, while Kelly ran a paw over my head and scratched one of my limp ears.

"Hey," she said softly, lifting my chin and peering into my eyes. "Arthur's a tough old codger. He'll be fine."

"I...I know," I hoped.

But I still couldn't get death out of my mind. I'd sat with uncle while he was stuck under that tractor...but I'd also sat with Devrol...well, Devrol's body. I couldn't get the palomino's sickening, lifeless gaze, the blood--the smell of it--from his nose and mouth, out of my head. I could so clearly see his mangled body crushed underneath the full weight of that tractor, his ribcage collapsed in, spine probably shattered.

My pelt iced over every time I thought about it, and I could have vomited had I had anything in my stomach. My uncle could have easily been Devrol. If he'd been laying a few inches more to the left...

"Lee." It was Claire. She'd returned with a sour expression, tail flicking aggravatingly like Sasha's tended to do. "Uhm, I'm sorry, and I hate to sound like an ass--especially right now--but, you're going to have to go to the waiting room." She flashed a glance over her shoulder, and I looked to see the cow nurse glaring in our direction and tapping impatiently on the top of her desk.

"Please," she added softly, her ears fluttering.

I groaned inwardly but started to push myself up. Kelly rose with me and helped me keep my balance. "I'd been going that...way when I got here," I said. "I just...uh...didn't hold myself together long enough. Sorry."

"No, no, no, sweetheart," she said quickly. "I understand completely." She glanced back to wrathful cow-nurse. "They've been trying to work up the nerve to say something to you, but..."

"My crying kept them at bay..."

She nodded and her ears went limp. "Yeah. Since I'm an intern they got me to do the dirty work." She smiled softly again. "I'm sorry."

"It's...alright," I said. "It's called the waiting room...for a reason."

"Yeah." She motioned for Kelly and me to follow, and we started wandering down the corridor. "This way."

Claire led us along for a few minutes, passing nurses and doctors and then shoving through some double-doors, depositing us into the waiting room and the warmth of a cushioned bench with old magazines littering the arms.

The place was empty for the most part, which was a good thing I guess. I scanned the room nervously and only saw a skinny fox attending nurse behind a protective, Plexiglas barrier rising from her long desk to the ceiling. She was engrossed in typing something on her computer; her bright pink scrubs stung my eyes.

Claire coughed and squatted before me. She stared concernedly up into my face while I rubbed my throbbing temples.

"I'm, uh, guessing it was bad," she said.

I flashed a glance at her and just nodded. I didn't need words to assure her that things had been horrible.

"I'm sorry, Lee." She patted my knee. "I hope your uncle will be alright."

"Thanks," I said.

Kelly squirmed closer on the enveloping plushness of the bench so she was nearer to Claire. "Can you tell us anything?" Her hopefulness to know of my uncle's fate--even after knowing him for only four weeks since the Renaissance fair--it was heartwarming. I even looked to Claire in anticipation of good news.

But she shook her head.

Her tail wriggled across the putrid, lime colored shag carpeting, and she pushed herself up, knees popping. She grimaced and rubbed them carefully while still holding that folder under her arm.

"No, sorry. I'm just an intern, and not even for nursing." She shrugged weakly. "Physical therapy is my lot. I just came to pick up some of our patient's medical records and happened across you two."

"Oh," Kelly sighed.

My head drooped.

"But," Claire said warmly. "The doctors will notify you of your uncle's condition whenever they've finished treating and stabilizing him..."

"If," I muttered under my breath, my cheeks tingling.

Claire's expression soured as she was about to say something, but she held her tongue and flashed her gaze over my shoulder.

"Hello, Mr. Avner," the attending nurse chimed, her attention drawn over my shoulder as well.

I glanced quickly around as an enormous man--a nicely dressed polar bear--glided by the bench. Surprisingly, for his size, he barely made a sound. He just grinned at the nurse, bowed his great head to us in passing, and went to stand before the desk. He spoke to the fox, his low voice rumbling like encroaching thunder; she nodded, tapped some keys on her computer, and then she slipped him something which he signed and returned.

"I'll let you know when you can go back, alright?" the fox said.

The big fur nodded, turned, and went to sit somewhere behind us.

Claire cleared her throat and glared, regaining my attention and picking up where she'd left off. "Not if, Lee--when. Have a bit of faith, yeah? I'm sure your uncle wouldn't want you to be moping out here as if you've already given up on him, would he?"

I cringed. She was right. I shook my head and she lightened up again.

"Thank you," Kelly said to Claire.

"No worries," the arctic fox chirped. "It's hard--I know. I work with patients every day that have all but given up hope that they'll ever walk again, or throw a football, or even wiggle their fingers. I know how to give a pep talk." She smirked. "I wasn't even trying that time." Her eyes locked on mine. "I was just being honest."

I smiled. It pacified her.

Then I bounced--Kelly jerking her head and Claire staring wide-eyed--as my stomach roared. I clutched my good paw over my gut, abashed.

"The cafeteria is on the third floor," Claire chuckled. "They've got some great fillet mignon, and their chicken nuggets are to die f..." I went rigid. She squeaked as she--literally I think--bit down on her tongue to stop those words from escaping. Her white-furred cheeks flushed a rosy tint as she tried to play off her flub. "They're...super delicious...uh...all white meat and...shaped like...dinosaurs." She rubbed the back of her neck and then looked ashamedly at the floor, her tail twitching. "I'm sorry. It just came out."

I smiled. I actually smiled. "It's okay." My tail even wagged a tiny bit. "Faith, yeah?"

Claire grinned. "Yeah."

But it was still difficult for me to fully grasp. I was just too...scared. Too uncertain. I needed to see my uncle before I could hold promise that things would be fine.

"Well," Kelly sighed. "There's nothing to do but be patient. And you're obviously starving, Lee. Let's go get some food..."

"I'm not leaving," I shot at her, my fur bristling. I couldn't imagine going anywhere until I'd heard anything. My worry had taken root and rooted me to my spot on that bench. My stomach growled again, though, but I'd long sense lost my appetite.

Kelly cocked an eyebrow, unfazed, and then shrugged. "Alright, but I'm at least going to get you some coffee and a snack from the vending machine. Maybe a protein bar or something..."

I grunted as my stomach writhed. My ears fell back as I clamped my paw tighter over my midsection to keep another growl at bay. "Okay. Thank you."

She pushed herself up, straightened the plaid skirt she had on over some black tights, and reached a white paw toward Claire. "It was nice meeting you, and thanks for being so kind."

Claire beamed and shook the ermine's paw. "Nice meeting you, too..."

"Kelly."

The arctic fox nodded. "Kelly. I'm Claire, and no need to thank me. I didn't do much."

Kelly looked toward me and I smiled. "No," she said. "You did more than you think." She then waved to Claire and tromped out of the waiting room, her heavy boot-steps raking against the thin carpet and then echoing against the tile floors of the hallway outside the waiting room as she left.

Claire huffed and shook her head, and I felt her eyes on me again. "Well," she said. "You don't stray far from type now do you, Lee?"

Was that a gentle slap across the face? I squinted up at her. No, she was still smiling. Warmly. I just smirked and shrugged. She sighed, and her grin vanished.

"Lee," she said pleadingly. "This--this silence and avoidance thing--it's killing my brother. I hope you know that."

My heart gave a pained squirm, and I winced. My pelt tingled all over as I looked to Claire. She was frowning--clearly upset. I braced myself for the wrath of the loving, older sibling.

"He misses you so bad, Lee. I mean..." She groaned and shifted her weight. "I know this is a terrible time to tell you this, but I doubt I'll see you anywhere else." I swallowed as her eyes met mine and--if I hadn't been sitting--my tail would probably have gone between my legs. "You've got to talk with Sasha, Lee. You have to--with both him and Red. They're a mess worrying over you. You avoiding them is hurting them, and I can't stand to see it happen anymore. So..." She strode close and leaned down before me again. "I'm not asking--I'm telling. You talk and work things out with those two--like you should have done already--or..." I grimaced. She closed her eyes sagely and waggled a single finger. "Or you're going to lose them."

I snuffed and shook my head, running my fingers through my ratty hair, my muzzle pinching in a sarcastic grin. "I don't think I have them anymore to start with."

"Oh, you do," Claire said confidently. "They care about you, Lee. Everything that happened hasn't changed how they feel about you." She patted my knee reassuringly, her button nose flaring and ears waggling. "They miss you. They want you back with them." She squeezed her paw over my kneecap. "Do you hear me?"

I...I nodded dumbly, my eyes stinging and swollen sinuses threatening to burst.

"Good," Claire sighed, standing again with her tail coiling around her maroon-scrubbed legs. "Well, I have to go. Doctor Lillian's probably wondering where I'm at."

"Okay," I said. "And, Claire?"

"Mmhmm?"

"I'm sorry."

She shook her head, her auburn knot of hair bobbing about. "I am too--about your uncle."

"Thanks."

And then she vanished through the double-doors, her tail swaying elegantly behind her.

I just stared after her for a while for no reason. I didn't have much else to do but sit and keep my eyes open anyway, and that was becoming a chore in itself. This whole incident had drained me. I had too much on my plate, I felt, but it was nothing compared to what my uncle may be going through right at that very moment. He was fighting for his life. I couldn't do anything for him. I didn't like that fact. The helplessness I'd felt while cradling his head in my lap began to squirm back into the pit of my stomach.

To keep my mind occupied I glanced at a few magazines within reach, but I didn't take any interest in their articles. Then I just looked around and listened and smelled. The waiting room was filled with melancholy rows of empty wooden chairs, their cushions all faded and stained with no telling what kinds of fluids; the air was stuffy and stagnate, and every breath I took left the back of my throat feeling like it was coated in dust; for the most part the only sounds were the nurse typing away behind her screen, the wavering hum of electricity through the fluorescent lights overhead, the rhythmic, rippling drip of the sink in the bathroom a few feet away--its door left wide open with the hanging mirror inside reflecting a pale, flipped version of me sitting and staring in at it.

The eerie half-quiet was stifling, and I didn't like being left alone in it. But, I'd forgotten that I wasn't alone. I turned stiffly and found the polar bear from before sitting meditatively in a chair across the room with his eyes closed reverently and huge paws clasped together. And he was mumbling. His voice was low, rumbling, and chant-like almost. A black, wool ivy cap was perched atop his head; a forest green, button-up shirt was done up under his patterned, tweed jacket and tucked into a pair of black khakis. He wore a red and black flannel scarf, and as he spoke he'd take the loose end of the garment and dab at the corners of his eyes--still closed.

He was praying.

My parents were devout Christians, but I've never really accepted the religion as my own. How could I have? I was condemned by their beliefs, and I didn't understand why. It didn't make sense to me how my mother and father could possibly...despise me for being myself. My feelings were my own. Why should they judge me? I was their son...I was supposed to be loved, not prayed for in hopes of redemption--which I know they do. They pray about everything.

I see them praying in the morning, praying at dinner, and I can even hear them sometimes praying before bed. And after the Haunt they doubled their efforts...but for what purpose I can only guess, even though I'm sure I know.

I tried praying, tried religion...when I was younger--when I felt lost and alone and I didn't have anyone to confide in but the very air itself. I hoped that there was some awesome, omnipotent being out there listening and doing whatever they could to answer my prayers, but...nothing changed much for the scared little Australian shepherd boy who was afraid to be who he was...

Well, no, that's not entirely true. I prayed for someone to save me, and someone ultimately did...

Uncle Arthur.

One of my prayers had come true, I realized, and he'd brought me so much joy and love and happiness. Apparently someone--be it God or another--had been listening after all. Maybe they'd listen once more. I hadn't bowed my head in earnest prayer for years, but--surely--it wouldn't hurt to do so again. I owed Uncle that much.

I sat with my eyes lingering on the polar bear for a while as if trying to pick up on his holy technique, and--just when I was about to turn around and leave him in peace--his eyes flashed open and he looked right at me. His prayer stopped, but his paws stayed together under his chin. I sat frozen, lost as to what to do; I felt like I'd been intruding on the most private of conversations. But then his gaze softened and he smiled. He surveyed me without moving for a bit, and then he rose from his chair and lumbered his way to the seat next to me on the bench. I didn't say anything. I didn't know what to do to be honest. I just smiled weary and puffy-eyed while he smiled right back.

"Hello, son," he said in the deepest, sultriest voice I'd ever heard. The low rumble of his words rippled across my skin. He nodded and tipped his cap. "How you doin', now? Everythin' alright?" His mocha-brown eyes popped, and then he laughed, the room all but quaking from the powerful sound. I found myself chuckling too. His humor was contagious. "Well," he said. "Everythin' must not be alright if you're here. I apologize."

I just shook my head, completely in awe of the fellow. "No, you're...you're fine."

He offered a massive, black-padded paw. "My name's Harvey."

My hand disappeared in his--surprisingly--gentle grasp. "I'm Lee. It's nice to meet you." Harvey beamed. "And..." I mumbled in embarrassment, wiping at my eyes again. "I'm sorry if I was bothering you. I didn't mean to stare."

He waved his paws dismissively and shook that great head. "Oh, no, no, no, son," he said. "No bother at all. I was probably the one bein' the bother--prayin' so loud." He rumbled a quaking laugh and sat back on the bench, folding his paws over his lap. "You don't mind me sittin' here do you, Lee?" I shook my head. He nodded gently. "You just looked mighty lonely here by yourself, is all."

I was enamored by Harvey. He was so nice. He didn't know me, yet he was going out of his way to provide me with a little company. I was curious, though, and terrified to ask, but..."Harvey?"

"Yessir?"

"Who were you praying for?"

He chuckled, which made me relax. I thought I may have been overstepping a boundary. Like I said, I hadn't prayed in a while--I assumed it was supposed to be a secret affair.

"Well," he sighed. He then looked right at me and shrugged. "For everybody."

My ears perked in surprise, and I'm sure my head tilted quizzically to the side. "What?"

He laughed deep and wholesome again. "I'm praying for everyone here in this hospital. All of the sick and wounded and sufferin' souls that might need a little somethin' more than medicine." He cocked his own head to the side. His white fur glistened under the light of the fluorescent lights, almost making him appear to glow. "You know--havin' a little faith that they'll get better."

I hope I didn't look as astonished as I felt. I scooted closer to Harvey, my curiosity peaking. "So, you just come in and pray for people? Even though you don't know them?"

He nodded gently. "Who says you have to know someone to wish them well, son? I know there's folk here that ain't got any family, ain't got anyone to see 'em through their pain, and I wouldn't wish for 'em to go through their turmoil alone. That's why I come here--to be there for them. Nobody deserves to be alone and scared." A breath caught in my throat as Harvey nodded toward me and his eyes sparkled with sincerity. "Not even you, son."

I was taken aback. I struggled to find something to say to him, but...

"Who are you here for, Lee?" Harvey asked. "Someone dear to you, no doubt, seeing as how tired you look. Someone close. You've been grieving mightily, haven't you?"

I nodded and he mirrored the expression. "It's my uncle, Arthur. He was working on a tractor with his friend, and..."

"That's alright, son," Harvey rumbled, gently cutting me off with a shake of his head. "You don't have to tell me anything if you don't feel comfortable." He then smiled. "But I'll sure listen if you still wanna'. I do it often."

"I...I..." I mumbled, staring up at him.

Then I bowed my head and just stared at the floor. The pressure inside me, from containing everything that had happened--it just expanded all the more. Devrol was dead; my uncle could be on the verge of dying; I may lose the one fur in my life I loved the most; I'd distanced myself from my best friends; I hadn't gotten the opportunity to get things off of my chest with Kelly...I...I...

Fat tears welled up and tumbled down my face to plop against the floor and soak into the already blotchy carpet. The pain made me tremble. I didn't blink for the longest time, but the tears kept my eyes moist--I felt like my racking breaths would break me in two.

"Hey, hey," Harvey rumbled. Then I felt an immense arm drape across my hunched shoulders, and he leaned down to look me in the eye. "It's alright, son, don't cry..."

"Please," I whimpered, clutching my knees. "Please, I've got to get...get this out..."

Harvey stared calmly for a moment, but then he nodded. His arm stayed on me, holding me together almost. "You say whatever you need to say and I'll listen, son."

So I opened up...or I cracked and things just spilt out--I don't know. I just got started and couldn't stop, and with every fear, with every truth, with every worry I let out the pressure inside me lessened more and more.

And the first thing I told him? The truth: that I...that I was gay. That was the first obstacle. I watched him, my stomach cringing, as I said the words. I expected scorn, malice, hate...but he just nodded and said "Okay." That was it. There was no shouting. There was no unfair judgment on my part...just an "Okay." I sensed no bad intent from him after unburdening my deepest fear, so I continued.

I told him about the Haunt; I told him about my falling out with Red and distancing myself from both the husky and Sasha; I told him about the aftermath of it all with my parents; I told him about Kelly (but skipped her being transgender); I told him about my uncle and the accident, about Devrol's broken body and everything that had happened up until getting into the waiting room. My guts had been thoroughly spilt.

But I still hurt.

I don't know long it took for me to get what I wanted to say out, but he didn't speak the entire time. I even forgot that I was talking to someone else for a while--getting too caught up in relating things to myself as if they were something entirely new. I thought I may have made a mistake by opening up. Why didn't he say anything? He just peered at me with his mocha-brown eyes glistening and focused...

"Don't hate me," I found myself begging to Harvey. I had been scared for so long...I just expected it--the hate, the lack of understanding, the blind resentment. Like with my parents. "Please..."

"Stand up, son," the polar bear growled all of a sudden as he stood and reared to his full, looming height while he turned to face me.

My stomach wadded into the smallest knot possible; my ears pinned painfully flat; my tail pinched in an attempt to get between my legs. I couldn't move.

"Stand up," he said again.

I didn't know what to expect, but I knew it couldn't be good. But, he couldn't--no--wouldn't hurt me...would he? Shaking, I stood slowly. I was too scared to look him in the eye, but when I finally did...

He was crying again.

I gasped as he shifted, and then I was being lifted from the floor and smothered in a bear hug...a literal bear hug. His big body shook as he cried, and then I was crying again, too. My broken arm throbbed with pain, but I didn't care.

"I don't hate you, son," he said. "You poor thing, I don't hate you."

Gently, he sat me back down and held me steady at arm's length while he knelt down to my level. He then peeled off his scarf and held an end--the opposite end to where he'd been dabbing his own eyes before--out to me. I took it and wiped away the wetness of any remaining tears.

He eyed me resolutely then. "Lee," he said. "Believe it or not, I know where you're coming from."

"How?" I sniffed. "Are...are you g..."

He shook his great head and handed me his scarf in its entirety, sitting on the bench once again and patting the spot next to him. "No," he said as I sat. "No, I'm not gay, but..." He breathed a heavy sigh and stared out into space as if recalling the past. "But my brother was."

"Oh," I muttered, dabbing my eyes again. "But, wait...was?"

Nodding stiffly, he reached into a pocket inside his jacket and pulled out a small book with a worn, black covering. He cradled it warmly in his huge paws, flipping it open and daintily flicking through page after yellowed page. It was almost completely filled with handwritten text up until three-quarters of the way through...and where the words ended there was a photo.

Harvey smiled and pulled the picture free and handed it to me.

"That's my little brother, Marcus," he said, pointing and grinning. In the picture, Harvey (unmistakably tall, broad, and young) stood behind his brother (shorter, fairer, but just as broad and youthful). I wasn't sure when the photograph had been taken, but it wasn't recent--the sepia tone and eighties style clothing attested to that...as well as Harvey's style of "Big hair." I snickered without thinking but apologized knowing I'd offended him, but he just chuckled. "Yeah, yeah--it was the style back then."

I handed back the photo, and Harvey stuck it into the little book with care. "What happened to him?" I asked.

"Hmmph," the polar bear chuffed as he flipped through the pages again. "All manner of things, Lee--all manner of things."

"Bad...bad things?" I asked, swallowing hard.

Harvey's eyes widened and he looked at me. "Yes," he mumbled. He then returned to the pages of the book. "But just as many good things, too--don't get me wrong."

"Oh."

The polar bear then sagged a little; his tiny ears flicked backward and disheveled the hat atop his head. He suddenly appeared quite old---older than I bet he really was...the kind of premature age that only hardship and pain can accrue on a body. I'd seen it before on others...like Uncle on a bad day when his shoulders were killing him...or like Tanya (Red's mother) when she'd help Luther with getting around and see other furs staring. I watched Harvey, and then my eyes were drawn past him and into the shadowy bathroom, to the mirror and my pale reflection in it. I couldn't help but notice that...that I looked old, too.

"Marcus," Harvey sighed. He perked a bit and smiled softly at me. "He was a lot like you, Lee: quiet but passionate, kind but angry (no offense), brave but...fearful, caring but...in turmoil."

I rolled my eyes at myself. "That's me, alright."

"And there's nothing wrong with that, Lee," the polar bear said patting me comfortingly on the back. "But, also like you, he was misunderstood and judged unfairly by none other than our own folks." Harvey leaned back, wincing as his back popped. "My parents were a lot like yours, too--hatefully religious. Anything that went against their rigid Christian ideals was seen as a threat, a sin, and--of course--they tried to teach my brother and I to feel the same way."

Halfheartedly, I smiled. "I know the feeling."

"But you don't believe that the way you are is wrong, do you? You don't believe that God hates you for bein' the way he made you?"

My mind numbed as I thought about his question and I just stared blankly ahead. I knew how I felt, and I knew what I wanted to believe, but...I just couldn't bring myself to actually hold fast to that feeling. How could I know? How could I honestly know that there was a benevolent God watching out for me?

In the end I just sighed. "I...I hope He doesn't."

Harvey smiled. "But you believe in something greater?"

I felt like a skipping record. "I hope...I hope there's something greater. But..." I turned meekly to him, my ears bobbing gently and tickling. "But don't we all? In some way, shape, or form...don't we all hope for something greater?"

"Indeed, son," the polar bear said. "It's the biggest hunger and the biggest mystery in all the world to know if the beings we think we pray to are there to listen. But..." Harvey leaned close. "Regardless if they are or He is, what's most important is the solace that our hope brings--be it even in God or a god or in your fellow man." He sat upright again and jabbed me softly in the chest with a thick finger pointedly, smiling. "It's faith, Lee; faith--if you have it, and regardless of what it's in--keeps us hoping and keeps us moving forward."

A telephone began to ring and the fox nurse promptly answered it. I heard her muffled words through the Plexiglas barrier as I stared at Harvey and mulled over what he'd said.

I'd honestly never thought of faith as what it was: trust and confidence in something. I'd always blindly associated it with a strong belief in God or religion of some kind--namely Christianity because of my parents. I mean, I guess that's faith, too, but...why can't I have faith in something else? Someone else, even? Myself? I...I...

I stared down at my paws. They were big and sturdy...like Uncle's. I traced the protruding veins beneath the thinner fur there; I flipped them palm up and noticed callus after callus, the cracks in my pads, the signs of labor and struggle and hard work and determination from perfecting my craft, from believing that I could become a swordsman...

From having faith that I could do something--be someone--greater than the scared little boy I once was...and still am.

My eyes widened as I realized that, all along, I'd had faith; maybe not in God, but in myself.

But I also realized that, since before the Haunt, I'd lost some of that faith.

I'd questioned myself and how I felt...all because Sasha was hurt...because I'd told myself that I'd keep him safe and failed. Then I pitied myself when Sasha found Red; I grew angry at my best friend because, selfishly, I wanted what he had. I should have been happy for them, but my feelings soured and made me bitter, and then I lost control and my anger consumed me.

My broken arm throbbed; I saw Red hobbling around the hallways at school with his damaged leg.

I'd caused that.

I forgot who I was--I lost faith--and I hurt my friends and retreated into myself like the frightened child I used to be: the one who didn't understand why he was being hurt.

But now I knew why I was hurting.

I'd caused myself this grief.

"You alright, Lee?" Harvey asked, making me jump and snap back into the here and now.

"Y...yeah," I said, my hackled fur settling. "Just...just thinking."

The polar bear grinned softly. "Pretty deeply I'd say."

"Yeah." I fidgeted and scratched my chest, watching Harvey out of the corner of my eye, and then I wondered something. "Harvey?"

His great head shifted to face me.

"What happened to Marcus?"

The polar bear smirked and bobbed from a gentle laugh. "Well, Lee..." His eyes glistened as he looked at me. "He got stabbed. He died doing what he knew he was called to do."

"I'm so sorry," I babbled, my ears falling flat and eyes as wide as dinner plates, I'm sure. Harvey just chuckled and said it was fine. Wearily I continued. "What did he do?"

"He was a doctor," he said. "A damn good one, too. Our folks always beating and knocking him down, knocking me down when I'd protect him, telling us we'd never amount to anything because he was gay and I was just as bad...it hurt us. It pained us, but it made Marcus persevere. He didn't like to suffer, but he didn't like to see others suffer even more." The polar bear snickered and tapped the side of his head. "And he had the brains, I'll tell'ya. He had the brains and I had the brawn, but we were both gentle things. He made it through school without a hitch, enduring all the while, and got into medical school. Came back a doctor. Came to work here, as a matter of fact."

"Really?" I asked. He nodded. My eyebrows bobbed in surprise, and I even looked around expectantly as if I'd see some remnant of Harvey's brother lying around.

The polar bear sighed deeply. "And he loved his job, Lee. He got to help people every day; he got to quell their pains, and they loved him for it because he was a good man and he cared about them. He'd do anything to see folks right, no matter who they were or what they believed or if they had money or not." His jubilance then darkened a little. "But one day a fellow was brought in that tried to kill himself, I think. He wasn't right in the head. Think he tried to OD on drugs or something and was acting like a lunatic. Most of the doctors wouldn't go near him, they were afraid, but Marcus didn't care. The guy was hurtin' and dyin' and my brother couldn't stand for it. So he tries to help, takes the guy back, and the fellow goes berserk. I don't know what went down, but the loony must've thought Marcus was going to hurt him, and he grabbed something--a scalpel I reckon--and stabbed him in the neck with it. They couldn't get the bleedin' to stop." He chuckled bitterly. "He was gone in five minutes."

"Harvey..."

"I couldn't believe it when I got the call," he said. He then looked at me and his eyes were welling up with tears again. "But he died doin' what he loved. In the end it didn't come down to him being gay or anything like that--it came down to him having the courage to follow his heart even though others said how he felt was wrong." He smiled. "But he knew better, Marcus did--he had faith." He looked me in the eye. "Do you understand what I'm trying to say, Lee? Don't let others tell you how you should feel; don't let others make you question your faith and what you believe is right. In the end it comes down to the only person in your life that matters." He tapped my chest, right over my heart. "Yourself." He shook his head. "But never lose sight of others, Lee. Don't take others and their opinions for granted--don't take your friends for granted; they deserve the same amount of respect as yourself, and life is never complete without them."

All I could think to do was nod. "O..okay."

"Chaplain Avner?" the fox nurse said.

"Yes, ma'am?" Harvey rumbled with a big smile.

"You can head on back," she said cheerily. "They're waiting."

"Thank you, Linda."

"W...wait," I mumbled, staring wide-eyed at Harvey as he stood. "You...you're a..."

The polar bear chuckled warmly and nodded. "Yes, Lee--I'm a minister," he said. "I'm the chaplain for this hospital as well." He winked. "My brother wasn't the only one who wished to help others after everything we'd gone through, but I was never one for the books. I was always better at...spiritual support than medical." He then frowned. "I hope you're not upset, son."

I shook my head. "No, no, not at all! It's just..."

"You're not used to acceptance from religious folks," he said. "I know. I've been there. And I hope I didn't frighten you."

Again, I shook my head.

"Good. And, forgive me if this is too much, but..." He dug around in his coat pocket again, grimaced, and then yanked a piece of paper free with a hearty GOTCHA! Then he pulled out his little book again and, after flipping to the back, slipped out a card; He then handed them both to me. "Take these. That's last Sunday's bulletin for the church I serve as minister for, and that's my card as chaplain here. If you ever want to talk than, please, don't dare hesitate to call or drop by at either place." I took the bulletin and card, and he smiled waveringly. "And I'm not trying to push anything on you, son. Like my brother, I just don't like seeing others hurt when I know they don't have to."

"T...thank you--for listening to me especially," I muttered, rubbing the soft papers between my fingers delicately. "And..." I looked up at him nervously. "And it's really okay? For me to..."

"Anytime, Lee," he chuckled. "When you wanna talk, I'll be more than happy to listen, and I'll help you in any way I can." He shuffled forward and patted me gently on the back. "You'll be alright, son. Your uncle will be alright, too."

I smiled up at him. "I hope so."

He beamed. "And you hold tight to that hope. It'll get you through." He then shuffled toward the double doors. "And don't forget," he said, tipping his hat. "Whenever you wanna talk."

Then he ducked through the double doors and was gone; the fox nurse tapped on her computer some more; my stomach growled; the bulletin rustled as I looked through it; my ears flicked to the familiar sound of heavy boots echoing from the hallway...as well as a number of footsteps. I began to look over my shoulder, but...

"Is there anyone here for a mister Percival Arthur Hawthorne?"