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Zig Zag and James: Dimensions of Love

Offered by Eagle

This story is a derivative work of fiction based on characters, descriptions, and/or situations based on Zig Zag the Story, Copyright © by J. Bruner. This is a speculative work of fiction and is not considered as canon for Zig Zag the Story.

However, the author of this work grants J. Bruner all license and abilities to use, modify, or incorporate this work into his own as he sees fit. Any characters introduced in this work are gifted to J. Bruner for his own use. This story is a form of payment from one author to another in return for the many hours of pleasurable reading J. Bruner has freely provided at his own expense.

Chapter 1 An Unwelcome Guest

It had been a day that started quite poorly for Zig Zag. Just before arriving home the previous night, she had topped off the fuel in her car, knowing that she had several important interviews with new talent fairly early the next morning. With she and James spending a rare night apart because of schedules, Zig had done a fairly decent job of getting up when she was supposed to and getting ready on time. She was even a little proud of herself for being on schedule, with everything going as planned. Regretfully, her car did not feel much like participating in that plan. About a mile out of her driveway, it started to sputter, buck, and then simply died. The independent side of her nature caused her to call a tow truck, but just after hanging up from that call, she realized she needed to call James.

He had, as she knew he would, come running, pulling up just about the same time the tow truck driver did. She was surprised when he pulled up, because he wasn't in his own car. Rather, he was in a new maroon pickup truck, one he explained his business had rented for a week to help with some equipment moves and to see if they might want to purchase one for the company. With three interviews overdue, Zig had finally made it into the office.

The rest of the day was just as frustrating, with a day's full of events crammed into less than five hours. Half way through, the dealership had called her to let her know her entire fuel assembly, pump, and even her tank had been contaminated with seriously impure gasoline, and her car would be out of action for the upcoming weekend, not to mention that it would also be hitting her bank account up for nearly a thousand dollars.

Thankfully, the pain and frustrations of the day finally seemed to be ending when James picked her up to ride out of the city for a nice weekend at his place. Soon, however, the frustrating tone of the day started to reassert itself in the form of an unusual amount of traffic on the roads. "What's causing all this?" Zig asked him, shaking her head. "Don't tell me everyone suddenly discovered what a nice quiet place you have, and they just can't wait to start building subdivisions."

"No, it's not that," he said smiling. "There's a craft fair that's held out a little ways from where I live. It's pretty popular, actually - and a good place to pick up antiques."

"But this late on a Friday?" she asked.

"Something about a concert this evening, I think. It's a folk group, one I've never heard of."

"Hmm. Folk music isn't my strong suit," she admitted. "They seem to have lots of fans, though," Zig noted, looking ahead. The road was a little rain-slicked from a shower that had passed through a short time ago, and many of the cars still had their lights on. Trying to relax, she let her eyes lose focus and drift down onto the shimmering reflections on-coming cars made in the wet asphalt with their headlamps. A roaring thrum from in front of them attracted her attention. She noticed that they were following behind a big, leather-jacketed wolf on a motorcycle whose tail was flapping around in the breeze. "Think this guy's going to the concert?" she asked.

"Hmmm… doesn't seem the type, but he could be, I suppose. Now that the weather's blown through they might actually-" James was forced to pause as a shiny red sports car almost collided with them from behind. "What the! Dammit!"

"What?" Zig asked, surprised — James seldom if ever swore.

James was rapidly shifting his gaze back and forth between looking forward and checking the rear-view. "Guy behind me. He was passing the car behind us and didn't have enough time. Instead of falling back, he gunned it and crammed in behind me, and oh look! Way to go, idiot! Now, he's tail-gating me like an inch off my bumper! Wouldn't you know I would get a guy like this when I'm in the rented truck? Oh great, he's going to try it again."

Zig cast a look behind her. "That's crazy, especially on these roads!"

"Here he goes." They both heard the overpowered engine roar behind them.

"James, look ahead!" Zig warned, alarmed. He glanced forward and saw what looked like a school bus, painted white, coming over the hill in the opposite lane running just a little too fast and just a little too far into his lane. The driver of the bus, seeing his mistake, was slamming on breaks, and started to fishtail. James slowed quickly and pulled the truck off the road onto the shoulder, but the passing sports car forcing its way up beside him created a pitched battle between the biker, the car, and the bus. Swapping lanes, the bus and car made it past one another unscathed, but as the car corrected back into his rightful lane, the biker was edged off the road.

"James!" Zig shouted, and they both watched in horror as the biker tried to lay the bike down in the dirt only to be flipped and spun by a rock alongside the road. James slowed to a stop, pulling over further as he did. He was going to tell her to stay in the truck, but Zig Zag already had the door open and was running forward. Reaching under the seat, he grabbed the first aid kit and quickly caught up with her.

"Be careful, Zig! There could be a fire!"

"Where'd he go?" Zig asked, looking around. James stood beside her and tried to follow the damage trail.

"There, right there!" he pointed, and they both moved as fast as they could. The big wolf was actually laying on his bike, face down, not moving, his tail pulled straight down alongside one leg.

Zig stood off a few steps as James jumped down into the ditch beside the bike. "Hey, buddy, can you hear me?" A grunt and a cough met his question. Zig edged closer as she saw James checking him over. "Are you alright?"

"Uh, no," the wolf answered slowly, obviously in pain. "Not exactly. Tail and my leg. Cut, I think."

He gently lifted up the biker's leg and gasped. "Zig, come help me! Can you hold his leg up? He's got a bad burn from the exhaust." She walked over, grabbed his ankle and knee and gently held his leg. "We've got to get him off the bike."

"James, we can't. Look!" Zig exclaimed, pointing with one of the fingers that held the wolf's ankles. Looking down, he saw that the wolf's tail was caught up in the drive chain.

"Damn," he said, looking down at it. "Tangled up in there pretty good. Does it hurt?"

"Right now," the wolf answered blearily, "everything hurts."

"James, you take this, please," Zig asked. After she had relieved him, she bade, "Just relax now." She felt from the base of his tail to its tip, and the flesh and bone part of the tail wasn't hurt at all. Even the skin wasn't broken. "Everything's still attached, but we're going to have to cut the fur off to free him. I'm sorry … what's your name?"

"Terry," the biker replied, "and if a haircut is all that's needed to get me off of this thing, then go for it."

James reached in his pocket and pulled out a lineman's tool. "Wait, I've got something better," Zig interjected. Running back to the truck, she soon returned with actual scissors. "Alright Terry, I'm going to cut you free. I'll try to save as much as I can."

"You'd better hurry," James warned. "I think his leg needs tending to as quick as we can."

"Right," she said and started cutting away. Although he was free in a few minutes, there were only spotty patches of fur left on his tail, and it looked pitiful. "Done," she breathed uneasily, and James slowly pulled the big wolf onto the ground, so he was laying on his back.

"Thanks," Terry grunted, slowly trying to sit up.

"Don't thank me until you see it. I wasn't able to leave much," she warned.

"Doesn't matter, ow!" he growled, as he reached up and felt the top of his left thigh. "Damn, that hurts!" He saw the first aid kit lying on the ground. "Uh, mind if I?" he asked, motioning to the box with the red cross on it.

"Oh, sure, here," James offered, reaching over and handing it to him.

"Very nice," Terry noted, opening it up. He plucked a couple of items out — an antibiotic gel, a razor, bandages, and gauze tape.

"Do you need help with that?" James asked.

"No, I'm good. You've got all the right stuff," he replied, smiling, and starting his work. Zig took a good look at the wolf as he worked. Terry was a bit rough around the edges, and it was clear he had been riding awhile, from the smell. "You're very good to stop for me. Looks like I'm too far down out of sight for anyone else to notice."

"You would have thought that guy in the sports car would of stopped, or the bus driver," Zig complained, angrily.

James listened and shook his head. "It doesn't sound like anyone else stopped."

"Do you want us to call you an ambulance?" Zig asked him.

"Well, Terry is what I prefer," he answered, joking, and she found herself smirking a little. She thought it was a good sign that he could still poke fun after such a bad accident. "Naw, never mind that. Minus my fur and this thing, there's no need to call them. Besides, I think it's my bike that needs the ambulance."

"Hmmm," James mused, walking over and slowly lifting the bike up. The rock had clearly damaged all of the drive chain components, severing the chain which now flopped to the ground in a pile, Terry's fur still wedged within. He gave it an experimental push. "It'll still roll."

"Not going anywhere under its own power though," Terry stated after taking a long look. It only took him a moment to finish up his bandage. "There, that's it. Ugh, and so the question is, now what?"

"Is there anyone you can call?"

"I'm not exactly from around here," Terry explained, chuckling ruefully. "If you get me up to the edge of the road, then I guess I can flag down a tow truck or … something," he said, shaking his head. "My cell phone's somewhere around here."

As Terry began to reach for the damaged hard cases on the back of the bike, he stopped and winced, the wound on his leg too painful to move easily. Zig looked at James with an expectant expression. James leaned over and whispered, "You're not thinking we take him in?"

"James, what else does he have? I've been in spots like this more than a few times. You've got a truck. You can take him over to my house if you don't -"

He put up his paw to stop her. "Alright, Zig, alright." He turned to the wolf who was still trying to shuffle along the ground. "Terry, you're coming with us. I've got a truck at the top of the hill. My house isn't far from here. We can figure out what to do next from there."

Terry looked at him questioningly. "You sure? I don't want to be any trouble."

"Come with us, Terry," Zig offered. "It looks like it's going to rain again."

"Alright," he agreed and took James offered paw to reach a standing position. "Oh, ow!"

"Try not to put any … whoa," the coyote groaned as he swayed under the wolf's weight. Zig came along on his other side and steadied them.

"Sorry," Terry grunted through gritted teeth, wincing.

"Can you make it?" Zig asked, feeling him tremble a little.

"If we go slow," he answered.

It took the better part of half an hour, but soon, both the bike and Terry were in the open bed of the truck. James was silently driving the rest of the way, and his pensive mood had Zig worried. "What's wrong?"

"I don't like this whole situation, Zig, if you want to know the truth. I mean, what do we do, put him up in a hotel overnight, or a bunch of nights? I can't let him stay at my place, and I'm certainly not letting him stay at yours!"

"Excuse me, Mister Sheppard, but I don't believe you get to make that call," Zig replied coolly.

"Zig, please," James asked, "I'm supposed to just let some big wolf stay at your place, alone, with you? He's going to try something."

"Well," Zig replied slyly, drawing out the word, "if you want to protect me, then how about putting him somewhere way out in the country, far away?" James growled but kept his eyes forward. He didn't like where he was being led. "Look, just long enough to figure out what's going on with him."

"Alright, I'll do it. He'd better behave, or else I'll give him more problems than a sheared tail and a burnt leg."

###

With the rain pelting down hard by the time they pulled into James' driveway, there was no time to get the bike inside. Finally beneath the cover of James' porch, they were all pretty much soaked. "Hang on," James shouted over the din of the rain. "I'll get some towels."

As he disappeared into the house, Terry almost collapsed on the swing. "You okay?" Zig asked concerned. The wolf seemed to be gasping for breath, and she wasn't sure that all of the water running down his facial fur was rain.

"I'll be that in awhile ma'am. Right now, I'm just thankful to be in moderate pain and wet, but under shelter." He took a second to right himself and then looked up at her, smiling gratefully. "I'm really indebted to you both. It would have been miserable for me out there."

James then walked out with towels for everyone, and in a few moments, they had all dried off enough to go inside. As James helped the big wolf to the couch, he just started realizing what he might be in for. The wolf was big, true, but he was big in muscle. While James knew he was a reasonably good fighter, Terry, even as he was, could be a match for him. With Terry at full strength, James had the good sense to know he'd likely be far out of his depth. "I'll … I'll go get us something to drink. Terry, what's your pleasure?" The moment he asked the question, he regretted it, knowing that the answer was sure to be some high priced or — even worse — low priced liquor, and the last thing James wanted in his house was a drunk biker.

"Hot chocolate, if you've got it, sir." James startled for a moment at the request, but then thought about it — he was reasonably sure he had a few packets of the instant stuff stored away somewhere. "And if you had a little bit of cinnamon to add into it, I'd be in your debt."

Zig blinked at his request as well. "Actually, that sounds like it might be good. You're lucky, James is a gourmet cook."

As he turned his back to go find the mixes, James rolled his eyes. "Why did Zig have to tell him that? Now he'll be expecting me to cook for him."

Terry reacted to Zig's statement with an embarrassed apology. "Well, he'll probably be happy to know that mine is not a gourmet stomach. If there's something that delivers out here, I'll be sure to use that. You're giving me shelter, and the last thing I'm going to do is put you out any more than you've already volunteered for." Terry leaned back and directed his next sentence into the kitchen. "James, I'll pay you back plus interest, okay?"

James, again, rolled his eyes. He truly doubted that would happen. "Don't worry about it, Terry. We'll figure something out."

"Well, ma'am, he's sure as heck isn't going to pay for the bike repair," Terry whispered conspiratorially to Zig. "I may not look like much, but I can pay my own way."

"You can stop right there with the ma'am," Zig directed. James realized too late what was going on. "My name is Zig Zag," she said and held out her paw.

"Terry T.," he replied in answer, smiling, and he took her paw and shook it gently. Both James and Zig waited for a moment, because generally even her appearance caused gawks and stares, and when she dropped her name almost always something came from it. Instead of reacting as they expected, he turned back up towards James and apologized. "I'm sorry James. You good folks didn't have anything to do with the accident, to my recollection. You're real saints for going this far. Thank you."

James walked back in with the three hot chocolates, and when he handed one to Terry, he half expected the big wolf to pull out a flask and dump some cheap liquor into it, but instead, the wolf nodded thanks, and took a quick sip. "Oh, yes. Good for the soul! You'll have to forgive me, but I'm afraid hot chocolate and water is about all I'm good for, so there's some types of drinking I'll just have to sit on the sidelines for."

"Why's that?" Zig asked. James really wished she'd stop asking him questions and giving away personal details, but he had to admit, that the more Terry actually said, the less and less he fit James' stereotype. "If you don't mind me asking?" Zig was apparently having second thoughts about asking personal details.

"It's alright ma'am," Terry replied instinctively, but she held up a warning finger in his direction, like a parent warning an errant child. "Oh, sorry, Zig Zag. Can that be Zig for short, or would I use Ms. Zag?" Terry asked, unsure.

"Zig, if you're nice," she answered very pleasantly.

"I try. For me, it's always just Terry. To answer your question, I've seen what some of the harder stuff does, and it's not for me. I don't get all preachy about anyone who drinks, mind you, and I don't mind if someone else is drinking. It's just not for me."

"Not even beer?" James asked before he could stop himself.

"Never liked the taste, honestly, or the smell. Please, I don't mean to offend anyone, here. It's just a personal choice." Terry took a drink and smiled contentedly.

Seeing his pleased expression, Zig actually laughed. "I suppose the added cinnamon is a bit of a fling for you," Zig teased.

Laughing as well, Terry shook his head. "Everyone's gotta have at least one vice. What's great about this is that I can tell you are a fur who knows the good stuff because that was Saigon cinnamon, and very fresh, actually. Also, your mix isn't the cheap stuff. You've got a special order variety, here. Can't thank you enough."

James smiled a little. Despite his misgivings, which still were waiting in a queue line fifty deep for their individual worries to be heard, the coyote was actually starting to like the wolf, a little. Terry really didn't seem to have any eye for Zig, which kind of surprised him. In fact, he could tell that Zig had been trying to subtly flirt with Terry, just being polite, but he really wasn't responding with much more than civil respect.

"So," James asked, "how long do you think it's going to take to get you moving again?"

Zig shot James a harsh look, but Terry seemed unaffected. "It will probably be three or four days, even over-nighting the parts. I'll have to figure out what parts are broken, get them replaced, and install them. I'm pretty good at that, actually. I also have a catalog I order all of my parts from, so all I really need's a phone for the order. As far as for yours truly, well, I could probably be in decent shape to leave by tomorrow morning, but I'd have to find someplace where I could stay and repair the bike."

Zig's stare at him hadn't let up, so James was forced to answer, "We can just wheel it into the shed. It's fairly big. If I clear some space, you could make your repairs there."

Terry nodded gratefully. "Thanks, James." Then, he did something unexpected. He glanced back at Zig and said, a little embarrassed, "You can stop giving him the evil eye now, sweet lady."

Without fully knowing why, James burst into laughter at Zig's stunned expression. "How … how did you do that?!" Zig stuttered. "You don't have eyes in the back of your head!"

"Nope," Terry answered smiling, chuckling a little, "but I had to say something; the tips of my ears were being singed."

"You just watch yourself," Zig warned him, but then she started laughing too.

As the laughter died down, Terry offered, "In all seriousness, I appreciate what kind of a gamble you're taking. I'll do my best to be done and out of here as soon as I can, and to be worthy of your trust."

A half smile pulled at James' lips. "Thanks."

###

They waited out the rest of the storm making small-talk, mostly Terry telling stories about things he'd done, and James sharing a little, as well. Zig was content to listen, and James was grateful for that. He wasn't embarrassed by what Zig did, exactly, and he was keeping details about his own profession fairly quiet as well, pulling most stories out from his military days or growing up.

As the rain let up, they all went outside, and James helped Terry roll the bike down an impromptu ramp and into the shed as Zig watched. Thankfully, James was between major projects, so there was more than enough room for the bike. "Okay," Terry directed, as he held the bike steady, "now just drop the kickstand, and … oh." They all looked, and there wasn't one. "Must of broken off."

"We can brace it," James suggested, reaching over and grabbing some lengths of scrap wood and shims.

"Thanks. Well, add one kickstand to the list," Terry noted. "Hmmm… there's a point. I guess I need to start a list."

"Can I help?" Zig asked. "I just need something to write with."

"Over in the drawer. Top drawer, right there," James answered, pointing as he gathered a pile of scrap wood. As Zig went searching, James pulled out some thick, triangle cut-outs. "Not sure if these will help."

"They will. We'll use them as chocks. Shove one in front and in back of the rear wheel. That'll keep it from rolling. We can probably improve on it, but that'll wait. Hold it, yeah, that piece, oh yeah, both of those," Terry noted as he pointed to a couple of pieces of wood in James paws. "Those will do very nicely."

James furrowed his brow. The pieces looked odd and too short. James handed them over, and then took the handlebars. "Thanks," Terry replied, and slid down to the floor. "Ouch, that's going to hurt for awhile." James and Zig heard a quick "pop-pop", and then Terry started to get up. "It's okay. You can let go now."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. It's good." James still wasn't sure, but loosened his grip on the big bike. Sure enough, there was no movement. As Terry managed to sit, he exhaled strongly and looked at James, arms still poised over the bike. Smiling, he kicked the center of the bike gently with his good leg. James was startled, but the bike barely budged. "See?"

James knelt down and looked. The two pieces of wood were wedged into the bike in such a way and at such an angle that they were firmly held and supported the bike well. "I guess so," James replied. "That's … pretty clever. You've done this before?"

"Well, I've had a kickstand or two go out on me before, that's for sure."

At that moment, James cell phone rang. Nodding an apology, he opened it. "Hey, Doug. What? No, I don't know about a new customer on Monday. Personally? Early? Great," he groaned. "Can you give me … no, no I'm in the shop. Okay. Wait a minute." James looked at Zig. "I … uh, need to go inside for awhile. Are you two going to be okay?"

"We'll be fine, James," Zig replied soothingly, smiling and kissing James on the side of the muzzle. Reluctantly, James left. "He worries about me."

"I can see that," Terry agreed. "That's a good quality, when used in moderation. Now, in the interest in not abusing anyone's hospitality, can I please get you to write down a few things as I check out the bike? That will help me put the order together." As Terry went to move, he winced.

Zig frowned. "You know, Terry, I'm not so sure you should be moving around, exactly. Is this something I can do, and you can write?"

Terry smiled as he sat fully back down on the stool again. "If you're willing to get a little dirty," he replied warningly, but gratefully.

"Why not? It's the weekend. Come on, what do I need to do first?"

###

Time passed quickly as Doug read the e-mail to James and then listened to him tell about what happened on their way home. By the time he had told Doug to agree to the appointment, nearly fifteen minutes had gone by, and he started to panic. "Doug, that's fine. I gotta go! I have to go check on Zig."

He almost ran back to the workshop, and upon opening the door, stood horrified. Zig was laying on the floor with Terry kneeling beside her. James was instantly terrified, angry, and shocked. "I can't read the damn thing, Terry! The lettering is too small!" He stepped around quickly and then saw what they were doing. "Oh, hi James!" Zig exclaimed as she lay almost under the bike. Terry was beside her with a pen and a pad full of notes.

Terry looked up at him, and James tried hard to calm himself down. "You alright?" Terry asked carefully.

"Fine, uh, I'm fine. Zig, what are you doing?"

"There's a part number on the inside of this … what did you call it?"

"Exhaust manifold," Terry supplied.

"Yeah, and I can't make it out."

Feeling a little silly and ashamed, James turned away, and then began to rummage through drawers like he was looking for something. After a moment or two, he "found" a magnifier and handed it down to Zig. "Thank you," she said smiling up at him before she slid back under the bike. "867 dash 0 dash 3218M. That's it."

"867 dash 0 dash 3218M. Got it. Thanks! I think that's everything," Terry told her, pleased. James walked over and offered his paw to Zig, who stood up. "Well, everything except the drive chain."

"Didn't we put that in the truck?" James asked.

"It and about three pounds of fur," Zig noted apologetically. "I take it's easier or cheaper to buy another one than to try to pick all the fur out of that one?"

Terry shook his head in disgust. "You'd never be able to get it all out. If you'll just dispose of the old chain, I'll add that to the list. I've had to order a new one recently, so I know where to find the part number in the catalog."

"Are you sure that's it?" James asked. Part of him wanted to be helpful, but part of him wanted to make sure that only one order was required, lessening the time of the wolf's stay.

Zig Zag let go of his paw in a way that told him she knew why he asked the question, and that she was upset by it. He didn't completely understand Zig's resentment of how he was treating Terry. James just thought he was being cautious, but it was clear Zig was thinking something else. When they got a free moment, he was sure she would tell him about it.

"Yes. I was actually pretty fortunate. The damage to both the bike and me, for that matter, is pretty superficial, but we can't get moving again for a bit. Can I use your phone to call in the order, James? While you were out, we checked my cell, and well, it's still water-logged." He pointed to an old cell phone lying on the table drying out.

"Sure. Phone's in the holder over there. Zig?" he called to her as he turned towards the door.

Zig pointedly did not follow him, but rather walked across the shop, pulled the phone out of the holder, and walked it over to Terry. "Here you are. Sure you don't need something else?"

"No, dear lady. I'm fine."

"Good. James and I have to take care of something in the house. We'll be right back."

When they were out of earshot of the workshop, Zig let him have it. "James, I'm really disappointed in you right now."

"What? Zig, please," James countered. "I'm just being cautious here. We don't know anything about this guy." She kept walking, but didn't answer. "Come on, Zig. This is a big guy. He's a biker."

"And I'm a porn actress," she shot back, glaring. "Does that mean that we're all alike?"

He sighed. She had him on that one, he knew. "I almost had a heart attack when I saw you on the floor with him standing over you. I'm worried, Zig, that perhaps …" she stopped and stared at him angrily "… you're not being as careful about this as you should be. Remember, I love you. If anything happens to you…" he left off the rest of the sentence.

Her expression softened a bit, but her tone was still rather sharp. "James, I am being careful, but — if you'll pardon me for saying - I am being a little bit more successful at still being nice to the guy at the same time."

He turned away. "But you were laying down on the floor, and he was almost on top of you."

Zig's self-pride was evident in her voice. "With my hind paw ready for a good swift kick into his burnt thigh or higher, if needed. In my business, you have to walk a tightrope sometimes between the creepy and the necessary. I've had to get guys bigger than him off of me, and trust me, I had no problem doing it. I am a skunk, after all." She reached out and touched his shoulder but spoke more softly, "You have to trust me, James. I will be careful … for both our sakes."

He turned, shaking his head. "I know, but even so, there's still a lot at risk here. I've got papers from my business here, all of my personal account records, everything."

"Can't you put them away? I can take some of them to my house, if you want. I'm guessing you're not going to be happy with me spending the night here?"

"It would make me feel better if I knew you were safe," James admitted, and her hard stare drew him up short. "Alright, alright, maybe I am being a jerk. Can I at least get credit for being a jerk for the right reasons?"

She smiled up at him, seeing how hard this was for him, and kissed him. "Yes. Now, I'm going to go back in there and keep an eye on him for you while you go put things away. If there's anything you want me to take, you can bring it with us when you take me home."

James sighed. "Well, I'd better get busy, then."

###

Zig opened the door to the workshop only to see what appeared to be a very frustrated wolf glued to the phone. "No. Because, in most places overnight means the next day," he grumbled into the mouthpiece. "Sure you can't do any better than that? Okay, okay, but please make sure it gets shipped as soon as possible. When do you think?" Terry looked over, and upon seeing Zig, rolled his eyes upward, shaking his head. "Okay. Thank you. Bye." He turned off the phone and put it on the work table carefully. He groaned as he put his head in his paws. Without looking up, he wearily explained, "They can't get the parts here until Monday. Everyone's already gone home for the day, and the warehouse only has one pick-up late on Saturday."

"That's not bad, actually," Zig offered as she slipped onto a stool on the other side of the table. "It certainly beats back-ordered for a month."

Terry smiled weakly. "I'm afraid that master James might not see it that way. He's nervous, that's pretty obvious. Nervous can get tricky real quick. I was really hoping to get out of his fur tomorrow. Oh, he's not going to like this."

"I think he'll be okay with it. Besides, Terry, even if the bike was ready, you're not," Zig countered in a voice that brooked no debate.

Terry looked at the door, and spoke softly, his gravelly voice sincere. "When you and I were working on the bike, he almost had a coronary when he came back in. I didn't figure it out until I thought about what that looked like from the door. I'm just glad he didn't have a pistol handy."

Zig suddenly realized that Terry had as many misgivings about James as James had about Terry. "Look, I'll tell you that he's a good guy, and I'm sure you are, too. Just be nice, be mindful of his things, give him his space, and everything should work out alright."

Terry took a deep breath. "Here's hoping. You guys had plans tonight, didn't you?" he asked, looking at her, pointing at her clothes.

"Nothing complex," she answered, "and nothing that won't wait a little. Is there anyone you need to call, to let them know you're held up?"

"No one's exactly waiting up for me. I'm on vacation, so my schedule's kind of flexible. Work won't miss me for a few weeks."

Zig thought about asking what he did but thought better of it since it would beg a reciprocal question. She wasn't at all ashamed of what she did, but James was worried, and that deserved consideration.

"So where were you headed to, before all this happened?"

"Believe it or not, I was going to a concert up the road a bit — just wanted to take it in. Afterwards, I planned to hit the road to the next town, bunk down there pretty late. I kind of had a rough route mapped out, hitting some concerts, some night spots, and a few other things that seemed interesting. Holding up until Tuesday or so shouldn't put me too far off track, but I may have to rethink things a little," he said, raising an eyebrow. Zig thought he was doing some type of mental calculation as he tilted his head. "We'll see. I'm just very grateful that there are nice folks like you in Ohio."

"Thanks," Zig replied, smiling. Then, she started getting curious. "Would you mind a personal question?"

"Not at all," he answered smiling.

"Why do you take your vacation on a motorcycle?"

He laughed. "Sometimes I wonder that, too, but the truth is that we all live in our own little worlds. There's this little space at home we live in, the office we work in, our grocery store, and our handful of places we go to eat. You know what it's like, but get out on the open road, though, and the world gets big. Meet folks. Stop and spend two hours talking to the mechanic in a small town. Help a church group marooned on the highway change their tire. Spend the evening with an amateur astronomer up on a freezing hillside seeing how beautiful the night sky can really be. Learn to care about people and not just use them as services to get where you want and what you want. Then, that's when you start living again."

"Sounds nice," Zig said, almost wistfully.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" he asked.

"Here it comes," she thought, as her mind dialed up the normal array of questions about her fur, her profession, and her ancestry. "Go ahead," she said carefully.

"You have every reason to be as wary of me as James is. Why aren't you?"

Again, he'd caught her off guard. She was starting to admire his ability to do that. He'd also left her an open ended question, where she could reveal as much or as little as she wished. "Let's just say that I've … built the skill of knowing who's dangerous and who's not."

"And how'd you do that?"

"Lots of experience."

Giving her a break from the questions, Terry started telling her a story of a fruit stand vendor who could tell the moment someone got out of the car if they were going to buy anything, and what they were going to buy, right down to the fruit. "There was also this park ranger who worked at Crystal Caves National Park in Tennessee. He could scan a crowd in seconds, and he'd know right away who he shouldn't take underground."

"Oh, that'd be me," Zig said, almost visibly shivering.

"You've got a lot of company. He just hated taking them all the way down there just to have them get all weirded out and have to be brought back up to the surface, sometimes strapped down to a stretcher. Alright, now, Zig, I've got to call you on this. You're staring," Terry noted, smiling. "Don't tell me I remind you of someone famous or something like that? I promise I'm not a celebrity; I've gotten that in the past."

Zig laughed, and then started laughing more. "No, no, it's not that! You're just very rare, Terry. We've been together for a few hours now, and you haven't asked me about my fur, my name, or a bunch of other things I normally get asked about. I'm sorry; I guess it's like a game I play sometimes when I meet someone new."

"How am I doing so far?"

"Real good, Terry, real good," she admitted.

"Glad to hear it," he said smiling. "I don't like to ask obvious questions if I can avoid it. It tends to annoy folks. I'm happy to figure some things out on my own."

"Such as?" Zig asked with a wry smile on her face, batting her eyes at him. "Come on, Terry. Tell me what you've figured out about me."

He smiled back at her, sensing he was being bated, but plunged ahead nonetheless. "Let's start with the easy stuff. I would guess that, like James, you're a little bit of a mix. For you, I'd guess between skunk and … tiger?"

"Very good. Go on," she bade.

"Your name's probably got something to do with your stripe pattern. The bit over your eyes, it does this neat zigzag thing. Looks good on you, by the way. How am I doing?"

"Pretty fair, actually," she replied, appreciating the complement. At least, he didn't seem to think she was a freak.

"Okay, and for a final shot, James and you probably first got interested in each other, at least a little bit, because you both have interesting fur patterns."

"Top marks!" she exclaimed, nodding. "Can I play?"

"It's only fair," Terry chuckled. "Go right ahead."

"You're not real fond of your last name, so you simply leave it at T."

"That's fair. When I'm on the road, I leave my last name off because it sounds way too formal."

"Although you travel a lot, you don't watch a lot of the adult pay per view movies in the hotel rooms."

"How'd you know that?" he asked, amazed.

"Just call it a hunch," she answered smiling. "You also probably haven't spent much time in the adult section of the video store, either."

"Well, now that you mention it — not really. I mean, I've seen a few things, but I was kind of bored, really. They were so … fake and, well, just kind of … dumb."

"Well, there's some out there that might surprise you," she replied.

"Just haven't had the time, I guess," he stated, shrugging.

Feeling a little bit of challenge in this contest, Zig asked, "So, you want to take another shot?"

Terry laughed ruefully. "Well, another observation is that this is a fairly risky game to play, with you in particular."

"And why's that?" Zig asked, still testing him.

Terry paused for a moment before looking at her and saying, "Your armor is pretty thick, and it's probably that way for a reason. Wow, I hope this doesn't mean what I think it might." His expression turned to one of real worry.

"Which is what?" Zig asked flatly. Terry was getting onto very shaky ground, and she was ready to shut him down hard if needed. However, she was curious what a complete stranger, one who seemed unfamiliar with her work, could sort from her.

Very carefully, Terry leaned over and conspiratorially asked, "You're not a lawyer, are you?" At that, Zig chuckled, giggled, covered her muzzle with her paws, and then burst out laughing. "Oh, no, you aren't a corporate hack?" Her laughing got worse. "Public relations legal counsel for corporate?" She started waving her arms, begging for him to stop.

James walked back in at that moment, again lost trying to figure out what was happening in front of him. Zig was either crying or laughing uncontrollably with her head lying on the table, and Terry was just staring at him, paws up in the air, shaking his head, as if trying to claim he had no blame for what was happening.

James stepped up behind Zig and placed his paw on her back. "You owe me an apology!" Zig wheezed out, pointing at Terry. She leaned up, and in mock seriousness shouted at him, "No one has ever been so low as to call me that before!" Now Terry looked completely uncertain, and James' brow furrowed. "I … am … not … a … lawyer!" she finally managed to gasp out between laughs. Now, James started laughing, and hearing that, Terry lowered his paws and smiled.

"You have my most sincere apologies, dear lady," he offered. "I just had to know what kind of folks I'm dealing with. Uh, you're not a lawyer either, right?" he asked James.

"Them's fighting words!" James protested, still laughing. "You've insulted my honor, sir! I demand satisfaction!"

"Would you settle for pizza? I'll buy. I'll even spring for cheese in the crust," Terry promised.

James looked up into the big wolf's face, and finally, he started to relax. Terry had been able to talk with Zig for quite a long time, and he hadn't made her angry. In point of fact, he had her laughing so hard she couldn't breathe. In some ways, the big wolf reminded him of a big bear he was quite fond of, just much rougher around the edges.

"It's alright; it's alright," James said, smiling. "So what's the word?"

"I'm sorry, but it's going to be Monday before we see any parts. That's the best they can do, even with expediting it."

James thought about this for a moment and shrugged his shoulders. "I guess that's not too bad. How long do you think it will take you to do the work?" Zig looked up at him again, her gaze questioning. "Especially if I help you out."

"I don't want to trouble you like that. If I work straight through, I can probably get back on the road in twenty four hours."

"Well, we'll have to see," James said. "You don't have to kill yourself trying to get it done." Zig smiled at him slightly, and James knew he had pleased her. He was feeling more comfortable now, with the promise of Zig safe and all his papers locked up. Perhaps, this wasn't going to be as bad as he thought it would be.

###

As they drove away, Zig asked James, "How do you feel?"

"Nervous," he admitted. "I'm … I guess I'm warming up to the idea. A lot of it is how he's been treating you. So, what do you think about him?"

"I think I like him," Zig said speculatively. "It's a little early yet, but he's pretty sensitive, I think. I have to keep getting past that 'big, bad wolf' exterior, a bit, and … ahem … I've known a few wolves. He's just a free spirit. He's a little odd for being a loner, but then again, everyone needs a break now and then. Seems to have a job; seems to be on vacation; seems responsible for his own problems. Yeah, at this point, I like him."

"That's a lot for such a short time. What all did you discuss?"

She looked at him, but his question seemed honestly curious and not over-protective. "That was the interesting part. We danced around the specifics. All he knows for sure about me is that I'm with you … and I am not a lawyer!" They both laughed again. "In all honesty, we didn't get into any detail."

"Thank you," James said softly. "I appreciate that you're being careful … for both our sakes."

"This doesn't mean I don't get to come around this weekend, does it?" she asked, sadly.

He smiled at her pouting. "We'll see. It's got less to do with Terry than it does with me. That call from Doug was about some new client that's coming in on Monday with almost no notice. If this client likes what they see, they might also be willing to become an investor. We're to give them a full rundown on our profits, and everything that's gone on with our business for the last year."

Zig looked out the window, and said with a tinge of worry in her voice, "That's going to include Marcus, and the accounts you lost because of me … isn't it?"

"I make no apologies for loving you, Zig. Don't worry, I'll spin things the right way; Marcus was the bad guy here, and there's more than enough documentation to prove that. I just need some time to figure out how to do it. I figure most of the work I can do from home, but I'll have to go into the office at some point during the weekend. Doug's coming in to. Maybe you and Kell can get together? Swap stories, that sort of thing? You could find out even more dirt on me."

Zig turned and smiled at him. "Now that doesn't sound wholly unappealing. Should I call her tonight?"

"Why not now? You and I could plan to eat dinner together tomorrow night at my place? Perhaps we could even bring in something for Terry."

She snuggled up against his arm and said, "Now that's the James Sheppard I know and love."

###

Holding a bag of sub sandwiches, James entered the house cautiously, seeing the wolf's boots placed neatly outside the door. As he entered, the lights were dim but not off, and a soft rumbling snore wafted through the room. Looking down, he saw the big wolf sacked out on the couch, dressed now in soft blue shorts and a white t-shirt, and (to James pleasant surprise) smelling quite clean. It was clear that he had availed himself of the shower, and probably the fur dryer, too. James decided not to let that bother him since he'd rather have a clean house guest than a grimy one. For whatever reason, the wolf's grungy road scent and bike leathers absent, Terry looked a lot less intimidating. James smiled as his sensitive nose told him the wolf had used the soap, but not the fur conditioner. Even his scraggy fur had been brushed; seeing him, it was easy to account for what the wolf had been doing in his absence.

"Terry?" James asked softly. It took a moment, but the wolf stirred and cracked his eyes open. "I've got some food."

A smile tugged at the wolf's face before he was forced into a yawn that made James take a couple of steps back. The wide-mouthed yawn showed every tooth in the big wolf's head, and there were a lot of them. Not unlike his own, James reasoned, but the jaw being so much bigger did a lot to add to the effect. "Hiya," Terry said sleepily after closing his jaws. "Sorry about that."

"To be expected," James commented. "You hungry?"

The wolf nodded. "Yeah. I'll pay you back."

"Come on, we'll worry about that later," James said. "For now, let's just eat." Terry nodded and sat up, still looking a little groggy from sleep. "How's your leg?"

"Hurts," Terry answered, "but it's doable. With some over the counter stuff, I can apparently manage to sleep. Showering stung like the dickens."

"I'll bet," James replied from the kitchen as he pulled out some plates. As he prepped the table, he watched Terry stand slowly and unsteadily.

"There," the wolf stated, "that's not too bad." Walking across the room, Terry was much more stable, albeit slow, helping to ease James' fears that the wolf was actually inebriated. "I hope you don't mind about the shower. It had been awhile, and I can guess what I smelled like when you guys picked me up."

"It's alright. Go ahead and sit. I'll set up for us. What's your pleasure?"

"Water's fine," the wolf replied, grasping the back of a chair as he slipped down into it. "Thank you, Jim. Can I call you Jim?"

"That'll do," James said as he delivered the food to the table. Stepping back for the drinks he asked, "So is this your first time in Ohio?"

The wolf smiled a bit and answered. "Yes and no; I've visited before, but it was quite some time ago. I'm kind of seeing everything new for the first time."

"Like what you see?"

"Well, except for a big white bus and red sports car, it's been really good. Good folks here, it seems." James was smiling as he sat down. The wolf took his food, said "Thank you", and then James saw him close his eyes, head bowed for a moment. After a brief pause, the wolf looked back up saying, "I'm grateful to you Jim, for all of this. You didn't have to do it. I can tell you're very busy."

"Oh really? How so?" James asked after taking a big mouthful.

"That phone call you took in the shop really seemed to get you tense."

"Oh, that. Looks like I'm going to be a lot busier than I'd hoped to be this weekend … with work, I mean."

"What's the scoop?" Terry asked. "If you don't mind saying."

"It's okay. This new client with tons of money just appeared out of nowhere and wants us to present all of our financials. If this is what Doug thinks it is, then it could be a real help to our business." He decided to go ahead and give Terry a few details. "I'm part owner of Sheppard Computer Systems. We go into businesses, determine what their computer needs are, and how best to help them."

"That's very good. So, you've got to spend the weekend not only tending to me, but put together a presentation as well? Don't worry, Jim; I promise to be low maintenance. Oh, and sincerely, I'm sorry about earlier, in the shop."

It took a moment for James to stop chewing. "Sorry about what?"

"I … I think earlier … in the shop, when you came in … when Zig was working on the bike, I think … we accidently scared you. I should have thought about what that could have looked like and not let her talk me into looking for part numbers."

James laughed a little. "It's alright, and yes, you did scare the heck out of me, but it was just a misunderstanding. Besides, I doubt that Zig could have been talked out of helping. She's pretty persistent when she wants to be."

"It was very kind of her to help, and it helped me get the order in less time with less pain. Thank her for me, if you would?" he asked, before taking another big bite of his sandwich.

"I will," James agreed, with a mouth almost clear of food. "So, it's a little boring out here, but there is the television, and you're welcome to any of the movies I've got out."

"Thank you," Terry replied. "I suspect I'll be catching up on sleep for some of it. If I can manage it, I'll get back to the shed and start pulling off the damaged parts. That'll make things go all the more quick when the new parts do come in. Besides, what you call boring, I think I'd call a slice of paradise. It's nice here — peaceful. You've really done the place up. How much of this place is you and how much is Zig?"

"Well, most of it's me. Zig's got her own place in town closer to -" and James caught himself before saying "the studio." Instead, he supplied, "… where she works."

Sensing that James didn't want to share anymore about it, he said, "It looks good; that's a nice shop, too. I get the sense you spend a lot of time in there. Woodworking?"

"That and fixing up antiques."

"Ah, that's where you get your talent for fixing up old relics like myself," he joked. "Don't worry. You'll be back to your hobby in no time."

"Doesn't matter right now, anyway. I'd be stuck doing this presentation either way. I've got to get some more clients or some more investment funds — both if possible — to make up for what we've lost recently."

"Tough times?"

"Not exactly," James replied cautiously, and then thought there wouldn't be any harm in filling Terry in on some of what had happened. "Let's just say that one of our board members turned out to be a crook, and between losing him and having some of our clients leave us, it's been a tough few months."

"Did this crook have a name?"

"Yeah. Marcus Fairchild."

Terry thought for a moment before saying, "Not a name I've seen or heard of before. He just a local boy?"

"More or less. Had his paws in a whole lot of different things, though. He brought new meaning to the words 'cheetahs' never prosper." Terry laughed at the joke. "He pulled a lot of politics and caused my friend Doug to have to take over as the fur in charge — forced me to step down. In the end, though, he tripped himself up. Now, he's probably going to do jail time for what he did — if there's any justice."

"Is it all this that's been costing you customers?"

"Not just that. We also took on a client some of our other customers didn't agree with, so they dropped us in protest. I can't mention any specifics about clients, but I think there was a little hypocrisy involved."

"Ah," Terry said, nodding. "Hypocrisy — the national pastime."

"I thought it was baseball?" James joked.

"Never since they changed the rules — made the games too long. I wouldn't worry too much about losing those clients. If you did a good job, they'll be back. They feel they just have to 'take their stand', but when they lose half a year's financial data, I can guess who's going to come looking for you."

James stretched. "I hope so. I'm about beat. You going to turn in?"

"Yeah," Terry answered, finishing up his last bite. "I was going to sack out on the couch, if it's alright with you."

James thought for a moment and decided against it. "I have a spare bedroom I use for guests. You're welcome to it."

Terry whistled. "A real bed. I won't know how to act, but I'll shoot for grateful and sleepy all at the same time."

"That'll do. Come on, I'll show you where it is."

###

The next morning, James woke early, but as he stretched and started to become aware of his surroundings, he realized he wasn't the first up. He was startled and unsure for a moment until he remembered. "Oh, it's Terry," he thought to himself. His ears perked up, and he heard the "tink tink" of plates on one another. "What's he up to?" James wearily got out of bed, threw on some shorts and a t-shirt and wandered towards the kitchen.

As James looked around the corner, he saw that all of the cabinets were open, and Terry was standing there putting dishes away. "Oh, hope I didn't wake you," Terry said, apologetically.

"No, no, not a problem. I normally get up around now. You didn't have to do …" and then he saw it. The counters were completely spotless, and the floor was completely clean — as if it had been mopped. Slowly, his eyes looked towards the den, where everything was in perfect order - set and dusted. A little stunned, he walked back towards the guest bedroom and bathroom. Finding them completely clean — spotless in fact - caused James to walk back into the kitchen scratching his head. "Terry? Did you actually, like, sleep last night?"

"I did, a bit. I basically just took a short nap."

"How long have you been up?" James asked as he sat down at the kitchen table.

"Since about two," Terry said, smiling. "I figured things would go easier if I sacked out while you were trying to work."

James rubbed the back of his neck and shook his head. "I don't know what to say, Terry. Thanks. Have you eaten?"

Terry shrugged, "Not yet. With your sense of smell, I had to be careful not to wake you with scent as much as sound."

"My sense of smell isn't all that great; just passable. You hungry?"

"I could eat."

"Then, why don't you sit, and I'll cook you breakfast?"

"I'd be grateful, Jim, thanks," Terry replied, and eased himself into a kitchen chair, wincing.

As James started pulling out pans and ingredients, he said, "You didn't have to do all this Terry. I mean with your leg and all."

"It's not so bad," the big wolf told him. "Besides, it's only the transitions that are killers. Once I'm up or down, everything's reasonably okay. It gave me a chance to put some skills to use I hadn't exercised in awhile. I was a butler, well, for a short time. I had to fill in for someone."

"I couldn't imagine you as a butler. Pardon me for saying, but you look more bouncer than butler," James offered a little apologetically.

Terry laughed. "I've been that, too, and on more than a few occasions."

Remembering a line from a movie, James teased, "I bet no one ever said to you 'I thought you'd be bigger,' right?"

Terry caught the joke and laughed hard. "Ha! I had one guy try, but he didn't realize I was already holding him a good foot off the floor! He said it, and then I pulled him up another two feet, and he finally got the point. Ah, life in a bar, if you could call it that. I generally try to avoid fights, if I can. Believe it or not, that Roadhouse stuff works, mostly. You've been in a few scraps before, I take it?"

"Heck yeah," James answered, getting into the spirit of Terry's storytelling. "Recently in fact. We had a couple of losers pawing over Zig and one of her friends, Sabrina, while we were up getting drinks. I jerked one guy out of the booth, Sabrina's fiance did the same to the other guy. They both took swings, and we hammered them. They were too drunk to put up much of a fight. I really kind of regretted getting into it; I was on edge for other reasons," he admitted a little embarrassed.

"Knight in shining armor, Jim," Terry countered, looking at James with a smile. "A knight is sworn to valor; his heart knows only virtue; his might upholds the weak; his word speaks only truth, and his wrath undoes the wicked. What else could you do?"

Terry's quote made him smile back, especially since it was delivered so well. "Thanks. I think Zig saw it the same way, which I'm very grateful for. That quote, isn't it from a movie?"

Terry's smile was unabated as he looked toward the window and the dawn sunlight. "Oh, it's older than that, much older. I think it was in several movies, now that you mention it."

"Eggs okay?" Terry nodded, and James started his preparations in earnest. "So, let's see. Biker? Bouncer? Butler? What other things have you done, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Naw, it's not a problem. Let's see. I've done some paramedic and some rescue work, a little firefighting here and there; I've done some trucking, carpentry, electrical stuff. I've done bodyguard work. That was actually fun, although it wasn't for anyone famous. Bounty hunting too, for a time."

"Bounty hunting?" James asked, curious. "That sounds interesting."

"Not at all rewarding," Terry said with an air of disappointment. "I'd much rather just protect someone nice than spend my time finding some low-life that's skipped out on his bond. Let's see, what else? I've done my fair share on boats; I even worked on a cruise line for awhile — quarters were too small, though. I've done some farm work, some commercial fishery type stuff, even a diesel mechanic, believe it or not."

"That's some list," James observed, shaking his head. "Ever think of settling down?"

Terry shrugged and smiled. "Not really, although seeing you and Zig together is a heck of an advertisement. You guys make a really cute couple."

Something told James he didn't want to go down any road which led to Zig, but in a sense he knew he had to, and James was curious, too. "Why do you say that?" he asked, looking askance.

"It's pretty clear you guys complement each other, and that you're also comfortable with one another. You work together as a couple, but you've managed to both keep your identities, it seems."

"I thought you were going to say something about our fur coloring."

"What about it?" Terry asked, pretty confused.

"So, you've seen a lot of tiger-striped skunks?" James asked, curious. Zig was famous enough that he was sure that Terry had to have at least heard of her.

"I've seen a lot of different mixes, actually. You're pattern is actually a little more interesting because it's a little hard to guess. Looks a little like fox, but it's not. Sheppard is an easy guess, but … hmmm …" The wolf studied him for a long moment. "Coyote?"

"Very good!"

"Now, I'll give you that Zig's being only black and white in her fur pattern is pretty unique, but there are a few overseas that are orange or rust with black and white. They also look a little more tiger and a little less skunk. I think hers looks better, well, unless you're a tiger, I suppose."

"I'd agree," James said. "The reason I asked is because, well, Zig's pretty well known. I'm a little surprised you don't know about her or haven't at least maybe heard about her."

Terry looked genuinely embarrassed. "I'm really kind of a book guy, Jim, and not so much of a television guy. She could be on the most popular sitcom or radio show of all time, and I'm afraid I'd kind of be at a loss." He looked very uncertain for a moment or two. "Do you think I offended her? I really didn't mean to."

James blinked. He'd caught himself trying to trap Terry, and now the big wolf thought he had somehow insulted Zig or made her feel bad. It was the most uncertain he had seen Terry, and as he thought about it, there were all kinds of media around that you could see and not run into Zig or anything she'd ever done. "I'm sorry, Terry. I think she'll be okay with it, although -"

"That's it!" Terry exclaimed. "That explains why she guessed that!"

"Hold it, why she guessed what?" James asked, confused.

Terry looked as if he'd just discovered a deep truth. "She said I hadn't seen an adult video or movie, and I wondered how she knew that. She knew that because she thought for sure I'd recognize her if I had. So, she's in the adult film industry, then?"

"Yes, she is," he answered, realizing that together, both he and Zig had given it away, and Terry was sharp enough to add up two and two. "She used to act, but she doesn't anymore. She actually owns the studio."

"So you're both business owners! Cool deal! That's another thing you've got in common."

James blinked again. That wasn't the reaction he expected, and it made him a little more curious. "I guess that's right. Most folks are more surprised by the 'adult' part than the 'business owner' part."

Terry shrugged. "It's unusual, but then again there are a lot of unusual jobs out there. Regardless of what either of you two have chosen to do, I have to admire you for what it takes to run your own businesses. That takes some serious dedication … and patience, especially with others."

"Don't I know it," James agreed as he served up their breakfast. "There's a lot of people who hassle her or judge her for what she does."

"True for anyone who won't live down to others' expectations," Terry commented, as he took the offered plate. "Thanks, Jim, this looks really good! If you don't mind me doing so, I could return the favor in the morning."

"If you feel up to it? You cook much?" James asked as he sat.

Terry was chewing, and it was evident he liked the food. "Well, I'm afraid you'll find me more of a galley cook as opposed to a chef. This is really good stuff, man. Thanks."

"You're welcome. So you don't think what she does is … perhaps -"

Terry smiled patiently. "The real question, Jim, is whether you're comfortable with it. As for myself, I'm good so long as she's not hurting anyone and dealing honestly with others — well, that's more than you can say for most lawyers." With a mouth full of food, James stifled a laugh. The lawyer bit was turning into a running joke, and every time he said it, he could just see Zig dressed in a shockingly stunning suit delivering final arguments to an over-stimulated jury. "But see, the same thing goes for you, too. You could be in charge of the world's most wonderful charity, but if you tormented those who worked for you, and fired folks who wouldn't do personal favors for you, then where you work doesn't matter."

"Zig takes care of her employees, much more than anyone else in that industry."

"Then, that's what matters."

James thought to himself as they sat eating the rest of breakfast, "I guess it does."

Chapter 2 Settling In

A few hours later, James was going through some papers, writing some notes, and trying to figure out how he and Doug would actually put the presentation together. Although Doug was already in the office working away, it was becoming clear that James was going to need to join him, possibly before lunch. It was when he was realizing this and rubbing his eyes in frustration that the phone rang. "Hello?"

"Hi there," Zig's voice said tentatively. "How's it going?" James couldn't suppress a groan as he stretched. "Oh no, Terry's not that bad, is he?"

"It's not him. He's actually been really good," James admitted. "You won't believe this, but he got up in the middle of the night and cleaned the whole kitchen, and I mean really cleaned it. No, it's this presentation for Monday. Doug's in the office working on it, but he really needs my help. This is one time when my desire not to have a computer at the house is really biting me. I'm not comfortable leaving Terry by himself-"

"Why not?" Zig seemed a little surprised.

"Well, he's asleep for one thing. He did it on purpose so he wouldn't bother me when I was working." James lowered his voice, "Also, I don't totally trust him here. I mean, I did a quick check after he went back to sleep to see if he messed with anything or took anything. He didn't, but … I'm still not completely comfortable with a stranger having the run of the house."

Zig Zag thought for a moment and said, "Well, I have a ton of scripts I need to read over and edit, and some industry reading to catch up on. I could do that at your place as well as here. I … was kind of the reason why you're stuck with him, so you shouldn't have to bear all the load."

James leaned back and shook his head. If he wasn't willing to risk his house on Terry, he certainly wasn't about to risk her. "I'm … I'm not comfortable with that Zig."

"I know you're not, but you don't have much of a choice, do you? You can call me every thirty minutes if it makes you feel better, but really James, I'm a big girl and a pretty bad one when I want to be. If he tries anything, I'll be ready. Like I said, you're going to have to trust me."

He hated when she did that. She'd already made up her mind, and any attempt he made to act to protect her (regardless of how instinctual or well-intentioned) was only going to be interpreted as a lack of trust in her good judgment. He groaned again, because in a sense, he knew she was right — both about the idea and the trust. "It's not like I need to carry mace, you know," she added playfully, reinforcing her argument. "And, if you act now, I also come equipped with my own set of Ginsu knives -"

"Okay, okay, okay! I appreciate it, Zig. I'll let Doug know. Thank you," he said, still feeling unsure.

"I love you; thanks for letting me do this for you," she said tenderly.

"You're welcome. It's real hard for me. This new customer had better be worth it," he grumbled. Then, he had a thought, "You know, it's a crazy question, but … the spray thing? I'm curious about it."

"James, most people make an effort not to be curious about it," she noted, warningly. "It really doesn't smell good, and it burns like heck in your nose and eyes — that's not just skunk hype."

"No, it's not that. It's just that, does it hurt you to spray?" He sounded both curious and worried.

Zig smiled to herself. Even if she was going to be defending herself, he wanted to make sure she didn't get hurt. "Well, not really. We have to be afraid in order to do it; it's kind of part voluntary and part not. It doesn't hurt — it's just that skunks have noses, too. The house and clothing clean-up's not a lot of fun either. So just you remember that, mister!"

"Not a problem," he replied appreciatively. "Perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea to remind Terry, by way of a story. I'm sure you've had to spray down a fan-boy or two."

"Not as often as you think, but … yes. Sabrina's fired off one or two since I've known her, purely in self defense. Don't worry. I don't think it will be a problem."

"Good. Also, just so you know I shared with him what both of us do. Part of it, namely what you do, he figured out from things we had both told him."

"And?" came the question with the pregnant pause.

James was a little conflicted on how to answer, but then he remembered Terry's joke. "He's just relieved neither of us are lawyers," he offered with the smile evident in his voice, and he enjoyed the sound of her laughter before he started getting ready to go.

###

Terry opened his eyes and stretched out on the guest bed. Slowly moving to his feet, he shuffled off to the bathroom, wincing a little from the pain in his thigh. A few minutes later, he stuck his head into the living room. "Uh, Jim?"

"He's not here, Terry. He had to go into work," Zig called from the kitchen table.

"Oh, hi Zig," Terry said, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "What brings you here?"

Zig stood and smiled kindly. "James didn't want you to wake up in an empty house."

"He didn't have to do that," Terry stated as he limped towards her. "It was very nice of you to do, as well, for both our sakes." The big wolf was obviously making for the kitchen, and she considered him carefully. His comment inferred that he knew that she was just being nice about the reason for her presence, but Terry was not being ugly about it — just understanding. As he got closer, he smiled and turned into the kitchen. "Mind if I get something?"

"No, go right ahead," Zig answered, her eyes but not her attention returning to the script.

"Can I get you something? Tea, perhaps?"

Zig was going to politely refuse, but then again, she really wanted it. "Yes, Terry, that would be nice."

"Hmmm… someone here is a tea drinker. Let's see … Earl Grey, Orange Pekoe, Green, Chamomile -"

"The Chamomile sounds nice," Zig commented.

"With sugar?" Terry asked as he filled up the cups.

"Two teaspoons please," she stated, looking up at him as he quickly pulled out what he needed. "You've learned your way around this kitchen pretty fast," Zig commented.

"I took this morning to figure out where everything is. I hate not knowing where things are," he explained as he placed the cups in the microwave. "I see you brought some work along, too."

"Yes, new scripts for upcoming productions."

"And you, as the owner, read over every one?"

Zig gave a certain nod of her head, as she explained. "You bet. It's my name on the building and on the product. I have to make sure what goes out is as good as it can be."

"Taking personal ownership and accountability; that's a good thing," Terry commented appreciatively as he worked on the tea. "Does anyone else in the office get a chance to look over them — a second set of eyes?"

"Marvin, who's second in charge. He generally gives them a look both before and after I do." Zig looked up, and Terry was presenting her with two teacups to choose from. "Oh, thanks. Which one's mine?"

"They're both the same. Figured I'd give your choice a try."

She took one and nodded. It registered peripherally that the manner of his offer had been to assure her that he hadn't introduced anything into the tea he wasn't willing to drink himself. "Mmm … very nice. Would you like to sit?"

"Love, too, actually," he said, and she immediately felt guilty watching him, carefully and somewhat painfully, slide down into the chair across from her.

"How's the leg?" Zig asked quietly.

"Hurts, but I changed the dressing this morning. It's healing like it's supposed to, no problems."

She nodded and then quietly went back to her work. While Terry seemed completely relaxed and at peace with the silence that had dropped between them, Zig was a little uncomfortable with it. A little uncertain, she offered, "Would you like to take a look?" Her open paw indicated a thick script on the table. She was curious as to his reaction; everything he had done had surprised her, and in a good way.

"If it wouldn't bother you. I promise not to share what I read." She watched, a little fascinated, as the big wolf took the script and flipped through it slowly, scanning the sentences with a claw-tip. Zig was surprised when she saw a deep frown cover his face. "What's wrong? Not what you're used to?"

"Hmmm, it's the spelling and grammar errors outside of the dialog. That always bothers me. You'd expect someone to check these things before they're sent to the boss. Do you want me to mark it?" Nodding, she handed him a pencil, which he smiled and accepted. He made the mark, and then turned the script back around so she could read it. It was the wrong word for the context of the sentence, and he struck it through, replacing it with the correct one scribbled in the space above. He'd also underlined a sentence and marked it "AK".

"AK?" she asked.

"Awkward, hard to read," Terry explained. "Your actors shouldn't have to stumble over a writer's mistakes trying to figure out what to do next."

"Sounds reasonable," she observed, still surprised he had no reaction or even a comment about the racy nature of what he was reading. His detachment was something she knew was well beyond James' abilities. In a way, she loved that about James, his reactions to such material were one of the reasons she adored him so. Terry, however, seemed to look at this like an exercise in school; a reaction that was more useful in some ways, but somewhat disconcerting as well. "So, where did you pick up your editing skills?" she asked.

Terry shrugged. "Well, I do read a lot, and you guessed right. I don't see a lot of videos, adult or otherwise. I've also spent a little time as a proofreader for a small newspaper."

Zig shrugged. "Good news for me. If you want to plow ahead on that one, then I can swap with you."

"If you want," he said, nodding. "Just consider this a small payback for how nice you're being to me. So, I'll read for grammar and spelling; may I ask what you're looking for?"

"Storyline," Zig replied. "It's got to be believable and have some creativity, some surprises! As you might expect, in this business it's really easy to get into an old dead storyline very quickly. I mean, as far as the basics, it's all been done before, so I won't approve a script that's unoriginal, run-of-the-mill. My customers deserve better than that."

Terry seemed to think somewhat intensely for a moment before answering. "I can see the challenge. Okay, thanks, Zig." With that, he started back working.

Zig went back to reading her script, too, but she occasionally peered over at him. Terry seemed completely absorbed and very studious about what he was doing. Unlike James, he didn't seem to be affected by the material in any way; in fact, she thought that he looked more like he was doing his taxes than reading over an adult film script, and that really started to bother her. "Terry?" It took another try, a little louder, to burrow through is concentration. "Terry?"

"Oh, sorry," Terry apologized, looking up.

"Do you find what you're reading … interesting?"

"A little frustrating, actually," Terry admitted. "The blocking's all wrong. Whoever's directing this is going to have a heck of a time making sense of it."

Zig stood up and walked behind him. "Show me?"

Terry pointed to a section of the script with his claw tip. "Okay, here they're in the living room, and here, the staging instructions say that the couple should both be in the bedroom, but the lines clearly indicate that Cody is still in the hallway. Now, she's on top, but look at this — the line doesn't match. The story might be good, but cause this much aggravation to your actors and directors, and it's not going to play well."

Zig found that his insight was correct, taking a moment to glance over the script herself. "Is it something that you can fix?"

"Probably, but the script should be reprinted before it's released to the actors. To many changes and notes in the margin would be a real pain to work with."

"Can you fix those two problems and let me see them? If it works out, then you can go ahead and make corrections wherever you see them. Otherwise, we'll just mark the script as bad and move on."

Terry nodded, and a few minutes later, he got her attention and placed the script in her paws. She opened to the sections he marked earlier, and nodded appreciatively. He had not only fixed the error, but improved some of the lines. "Very good, Terry. You keep this up, and I'm going to put you on the payroll!"

"No way, Zig. This is all free — my way of thanking you for all you've done." She smiled at him and then bent back to her own work with a good heart.

###

Hours later, she didn't hear the phone until it was the third ring. Terry was in the bathroom, taking a look at his bandage, so he couldn't respond. Realizing it might be James, and that he might well panic if she didn't answer in time, she rushed over to the phone. Nearly out of breath from her sprint, she answered. "Hello?"

"Everything okay?"

"It's great," Zig replied, trying to catch her breath. "I just wanted to make sure I didn't miss you. Thought you would worry."

In the office, James relaxed. "You're right. I'm a little angry at myself for not calling you sooner. It's good to hear your voice. So, is Terry up?"

"Yep. He's up, and I've put him to work!" she announced, looking over at Terry, who was just making his way back to the kitchen table.

"Doing what?" James' mind raced as he tried to figure out what it could be.

"He's editing scripts. Doing a great job, too, although he's making me like my writers a lot less."

James eyebrows raised, "Really? He's full of surprises. How … what does he think of the material?"

Zig smirked a little, and the tease was clear in her reply. "He hasn't said much about that, but he seems to be … less affected by it than some others I've known."

James laughed as he remembered the first time Zig had handed a script to him. He had embarrassed himself by not being able to stand up for a few minutes afterwards. "I remember."

"How's it going with you?" Zig asked.

"Not so good. We're having a time pulling together the figures the new client is asking for, and it's going to take awhile. It may be well after 8 before I get home, and I may need to come in tomorrow as well."

"I'm perfectly comfortable here, and Terry seems well occupied. I can always take him with me to get some food, bring it by the office for you? What do you think?"

James thought about it for a moment. "Alright, I really owe you for this Zig."

"Anything for the coyote I love. We'll see you around 5:30 then?"

"Sure, sounds good. Thanks. Love you."

"You, too."

###

It was about 4:30 PM, and Zig was pulling into the parking lot of the studio with Terry riding in the passenger seat of James' car. "Nice building," he observed. "Good size, too."

"Something's wrong," Zig noted, concerned.

"What?"

"There aren't any other cars in the lot, but there's a light on inside that normally isn't on." Zig was sounding worried. "I'm going to go check it out."

"Not without me, and not without me going first. If there's something bad at work, let me run into it. I owe that to you and James. I don't know if he told you, but I've been a bodyguard and a bouncer." Terry was clearly serious as he opened the car door.

"I … don't know about this," she said.

"James will have my hide if anything happens to you, and he should," he told Zig from across the top of the car.

Zig Zag wasn't convinced until she looked again and saw a wastebasket knocked over and papers strewn around the reception area. "I guess it's better for two of us to go in."

The big wolf didn't need any further encouragement, but strode carefully up to the door, his limp barely visible. Shadowing him, Zig stepped through the threshold as Terry, almost crouched, slowly and noiselessly entered. Terry raised his paw to stop her, and then pointed to his ear. Looking back at her, he pointed down the hallway. He started a quiet and careful stalk forward with Zig following him at a distance. At each door, Terry stopped, very quietly tried the door, and if it opened, stepped a foot in so he could shine a pen light all around.

While very nervous, Zig was impressed; he had clearly done this sort of work before. He was clearing each room one at the time, all while staying on the alert to what was ahead. It wasn't long before they approached the studio. "Stay here," he whispered. "This room is to big too clear completely. It'll have to be searched. If they scamper out, lay back here so you can blind side them or let them get away. Your choice." Smiling viciously, Zig expressed her claws and raised her tail. "That's the girl."

"Try not to break anything, if you can," she whispered in response before taking a step or two back into a bathroom doorway. He nodded, turned off the penlight, and then stepped inside. Zig waited, her heart pounding. About five seconds later, Terry shouted, and then there were sounds of a struggle and things being knocked over. It only lasted a couple of seconds.

"Let … me … go!" a familiar voice, although somewhat strangled, shouted. Zig jumped into the room and hit the lights, only to see Terry holding Marvin down on the floor, rather effectively, in what seemed to be a wrestling hold.

"Terry! Let him go! He works here!" Terry carefully untangled from the badger and stepped, albeit limping, quickly back — still ready for action.

Marvin was slowly pushing himself up from where he had been held lying on his stomach. "Damn, you're quick!" Marvin cursed as he rolled back into a sitting position.

Zig was at his side, crouching down. "You okay, Marvin?"

"Yeah, I suppose so," Marvin Badger answered scratching his head and looking up at the big wolf in confusion.

"Why were you skulking around here in the dark?" Zig demanded to know. "You scared us half to death! We thought the place had been broken into!"

"It wasn't dark in the studio until I realized I'd left the door unlatched and heard the wind blowing the door open and closed. As I was going up front to do something about it, I saw Lurch here coming in through the security camera. I turned off the light, and I really thought I was ready to ambush him when he came into the studio, although that didn't seem to work out, exactly," Marvin admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Where's your car?" Zig asked him. "That's what had us going."

"I lent it to one of the actors. Looks like she got gas at the same place you did, and she wasn't going to be able to get it fixed until Monday, either. Rhonda was good enough to drop me by on the way to study hall. I had just gotten in and really hadn't got started. I turn around and then see this guy, who's like what, a kung foo master or something?"

The big wolf had finally started to relax and laugh. "Hardly! Sorry about that." Terry reached out his big paw after he walked over and offered it to Marvin. "Name's Terry."

Marvin accepted the paw and stood carefully. "Marvin."

"Marvin's second in charge here, after me, of course," Zig said, with a smile on her face. Until now, she didn't fully realize just how big Terry was, standing at his full height. He had a full head over Marvin, and that was saying something.

"Nice to meet you. You okay?" Terry asked.

"Just surprised, is all," Marvin answered, looking up into Terry's face. "I suppose I should be grateful you didn't break my leg or my neck or something. Thank you for showing restraint." He turned towards Zig and asked, "So Terry is?"

"A guest of ours, meaning James and I."

"Not exactly, more like a bit of a charity case," Terry added sheepishly. "Zig and James were kind enough to rescue me when a guy ran my bike off the road. They're putting me up for a little while at James' place until the parts for the bike come in."

Zig added proudly, "And now he also is working for us — well, unofficially. Believe it or not, Terry edits scripts!" Marvin blinked in surprise. "He's already gone through four scripts with me this morning, and pointed out tons of errors and problems — all legit, too. Most of this stuff we'd just have to work out in shooting, but Terry's managed to catch and correct a lot of that already. I was actually swinging by the office to pick up any other scripts we had so we could keep ourselves occupied."

Marvin was incredulous. "I apologize Zig. I thought I gave them a good once-over, too."

Terry shrugged apologetically. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't know how closely you followed the scripts or just used them as guidelines."

"Strictly is what I prefer," Zig said, "but sometimes, we're forced to take liberties."

"Don't mistake," Marvin warned, "we're glad whenever we catch something in pre-production. It always saves us money and reduces the frustration level."

Terry nodded and bowed his head to Marvin. "Sorry about the take-down, bud. Just watching out for the lady."

"That's okay, that's okay," Marvin said. "I'm always grateful when someone will look after her. She can be quite a paw-ful."

"Ha!" Zig shot back brassily. "Speak for yourself! Now, I'm going to get those scripts."

"I'll help you pick up in here, Marvin. It's the least I could do," Terry offered.

"Alright," he said, and they started righting the knocked over furniture that had been upended in their brief scuffle. "That, and show me how you pinned me so quick."

###

A short time later, James met Zig and Terry in the parking garage. "We come bearing food, amigo," Terry said cheerfully as he carefully slid out of Zig's car.

"Sorry we're a little late," Zig apologized. "We stopped by my office and … well, we had a little problem."

"What kind of problem?" James asked, concerned.

"The kind that happens when you think your building is being broken into," she answered.

Terry saw James startled expression, and cut in. "It's alright. It was just Marvin."

As Zig pulled out the bags of food, James rushed over to help. "Got everything? This looks great, what is it?"

"Italian," she said.

"That should keep us going for awhile."

"Is Doug still here?" Zig asked as they walked into the elevator.

"No. He went home to check on Kelly. She's not been feeling especially good recently. He said he'd be back in awhile. So what else happened at the studio?"

Terry looked to Zig, a little embarrassed. Zig replied matter-of-factly, "You know what Terry said about having been a body guard? Well, he wasn't kidding."

The door opened, and as they exited the elevator, James asked, "What do you mean?"

"He insisted on going into the building first, checking everything out. When we got to the studio, he went in first. Before I knew what happened, Marvin tried to jump him because he thought Terry was an intruder."

"Really? Who won?"

Zig thanked him as she walked through the door he held open. Then she added, "Well, let's just say that Terry had him pinned to the ground in five seconds flat."

"Whoa," James said, shaking his head. "Is Marvin still in one piece?"

"Everything but his pride," Zig replied, smiling slyly. "That'll teach him to keep the front door latched and turn on lights when he comes in on the weekend. Hey, I'm going to go freshen up. Can I meet you two in the conference room?"

"Sure," James replied, and Terry followed as Zig diverted to the restroom. "Hey Terry, thanks for watching out for her."

"You're welcome. I could do nothing else."

###

They had just finished eating, largely in silence because James was still looking over documents, when James' cell phone rang. "It's Doug." He popped it open and answered it. After some short questions, he sighed, "Alright. I understand. Can we put in another full day tomorrow? Okay? Thanks Doug. Goodnight."

"Sounds like he's not coming back in," Zig remarked. "Kelly?"

"Yes. He's worried she's wearing herself out. He wants to make a good run at the housework and then hit it fresh tomorrow." James had to stop talking because he was yawning.

"I don't think Doug is the only one who needs to call it a day," Zig noted warningly.

Just then, Terry yawned, too — a sight that made Zig Zag blink in surprise. "Wow, you've got big teeth!"

"Oh, sorry," Terry apologized, shrugging in embarrassment.

"Terry, could you give us a moment?" Zig asked.

"No prob. Restroom down the hall?" James nodded. The big wolf thanked them for the meal and left the room.

"James, I want to come home with you tonight," she said softly. "May I, please?"

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Zig," James replied doubtfully, his eyes cutting to the doorway Terry had just left.

Zig furrowed her brow at him, drawing that zigzag mark on her head even tighter. "When it comes to behaving himself, he's been a straight-A student. He had every opportunity to do something, and he hasn't. In fact, I'm a little … offended, come to think of it."

James shook his head. "Offended? Why?"

"Well," Zig started carefully, "When it comes to males, and well, let's just say males especially, I … I at least expect to be noticed. The way Terry acts I'm this homely little nun, and my scripts aren't even interesting, they're just exercises in English class — bad ones at that!" Zig pouted, "I'm starting to feel like I've lost it — gone all plain and unexciting."

Knowing he was being bated, he still played along nonetheless. "Not to me, you sexy thing! You're always hot-"

"Then prove it!" she interrupted. "Take me home tonight. Don't make me spend another night alone staring at my ceiling," Zig begged, and then carefully slid her foot along his inseam. "Besides, I promise that if things get, interesting, I won't make too much noise. However, the howling," and she stroked him ever so gently, "well, you'll have to control that yourself." Her demure delivery betrayed none of the miraculous things she was doing to him under the table with her toes.

"You … you've made your point," James said almost gasping for breath.

"Hmmm, feels like we both have," Zig replied, smiling wickedly. "So?"

"Alright, alright. You win," James relented, pushing back from the conference desk to slip away from her before things got too far out of his control. Terry's footsteps showed the big wolf was rapidly approaching the door. When he appeared, James said, "Terry, Zig's coming home with us tonight. If you don't mind, could you walk Zig out? I've got a few things to … turn off, and then I'll join you?"

"You got it, boss," Terry replied, offering his arm to Zig Zag, who coyly smiled at the still sitting James.

She took it and called back to him. "Don't take too long."

James rolled his eyes as he helplessly watched them leave. He knew he'd have to think about starving wombats or something to get his mind off of what she had clearly focused it on. He had to admit that this seemed like the right decision; all day he had been missing Zig intensely. The double-interruption of Terry and the new investor wrecked any hopes he had for a quiet weekend close to the tiger-skunk he loved. She clearly wanted time with him, as well. Terry's defense of Zig at her studio also weighed on his thoughts, in both its good and bad aspects. Terry could have been showing off for Zig, trying to get her attention, but then again, he had gone in first and taken some real risk jumping whoever was supposedly intruding, even if it only turned out to be Marvin.

The contemplations and worry were more than enough to quell what Zig had stirred in him, and finally, he was able to carefully stand, adjust himself, clear off the table, and turn out the lights.

###

Saturday night had proven as beneficial and tranquil to James and Zig as they could have wished. Terry spent most of the evening in the shed, pulling pieces off the bike until the small hours of the morning. While James was a little worried about letting his guard down and enjoying Zig's pleasant company, the tiger-skunk had no problems damping down his worry and getting him to focus on her. By the time Terry had made it back into the house, both he and Zig had the release they needed and lay happily entangled in one another, quietly sleeping.

Both awoke to breakfast cooked by their grateful house guest, and as the trio ate together, James began to finally feel comfortable around the big biker wolf. Nearly any stereotype he had tried to applied had not fit Terry, and although James felt he was far from understanding Terry enough to fully trust him, Zig's retelling of the incident at the studio yesterday did much to reassure James. Although still worried in some regard, he felt reasonably comfortable enough to leave Terry alone at his house sleeping and working on the bike.

In the afternoon, as Terry lay snoozing on James' couch, an eye popped open, and his ears stood up. Perhaps someone else would have missed the close of a car door in such a storm, but Terry had stayed alive as long as he had by staying very alert. Instinctively, the wolf knew something was wrong, very wrong. Rolling silently off the couch onto the floor, he crept to the window and peered out. "Uh, huh. Thought so," he said to himself. Just barely coming into view was a figure that was making the most of the heavy downpour caused by the mid-day thunderstorm. Terry's paw reached up, grabbed a digital camera off the nearby end table, and disabled the flash.

After making a few other adjustments, he propped the camera in the window and started snapping pictures. Pulling the small telephoto lens out to its furthest, Terry happened to catch what was in the intruders paw underneath his expensive raincoat. "A Beretta. Well, you're certainly not the UPS guy, are you?"

Terry sat the camera down, placed it on record, and pointed it at the door. As he heard the tick tick of the lock picks, he found a place right behind a bookcase where he couldn't be easily spotted by someone entering the house. The tick clicking continued for awhile, and Terry rolled his eyes. "Great, incompetent to boot," he thought.

Slowly, the doorknob turned, and the door opened. A gun entered the room first, causing Terry to smile. "That'll look just peachy for the camera," Terry thought.

The intruder walked in slowly, removed his hood, revealing a face that Terry now knew from sources of which James and Zig were both unaware. "Marcus Fairchild," Terry thought to himself as his smile broadened even further, and he pressed the light switch right beside him. Momentarily stunned, Marcus whirled around, just in time to meet the clenched right fist of the big wolf travelling at devastating speed. The punch was incredibly hard to the side of the cheetah's head, and Marcus reeled, collided with the wall, and crumpled to the ground, with Terry easily taking the gun from his grasp as he slumped to the floor.

Terry, in full view of the quickly repositioned camera, dug inside the pockets of the felled cheetah and called out the items he found. "We've got a Beretta with hollow point ammunition, looks illegal with the serial number scratched off. Yeah, take a close look here," he said holding it up to the camera. "We've got at least six pounds of C4 and timed detonators. Here's a set of lock picks," he added as he unfurled them for the camera. "And here's a list of everyone else he planned to visit today, oh, and how to set the timers at each location for an eight PM big bang! Quite tidy. We're lucky — it looks like James was his first stop."

Walking back to the camera, he knelt in front of it. "Alright guys, you saw everything; now it's all up to you. All that's left for me to do is wrap this guy up so he doesn't get away and call the cops for express pickup. Thank you all! Have a nice day," he offered politely, smiling as he pressed the control, ending the recording.

###

James was feeling a little nervous, watching the storm. So far, Terry had proven trustworthy, even helpful, inasmuch as he was able, but still, James worried what might be happening in his absence. Just then, the phone rang, jarring him out of his worry. "Jim," Terry 's voice said, as he raised the receiver. "You need to come home, buddy. Right now, if you can."

"Terry, what's happened?" James feared the worst.

"The house and everything else are just fine. However, someone tried to break in."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine, thanks. I got the bugger, too; he's out cold and tied up on the floor. Cops are on the way, but you'd probably want to be here, too. Weather's crappy, so don't kill yourself getting here. I have a feeling we're going to be awhile."

###

James called Zig on the way, letting her know what Terry said, but he had to leave a message, because she was working through some new scenes in the studio with a couple of the actors who came in at her request. As he rounded a curve in the road near his home, he could see a large contingent of police vehicles, including a SWAT vehicle, fire engine, and the bomb squad all in and around his property, red and blue lights blazing through the drizzling rain. "You gotta be kidding me," James gasped, shaking his head. A police officer walked up to his car as he slowly approached his driveway.

"I'm sorry sir, you'll have to move on," the bear directed as James rolled down the window.

"Uh, officer, I'm the owner. I live here," James explained, feeling uncertain.

"You have some ID?" James slowly pulled out his wallet and handed over his license. "Okay, park here on the side, and we'll get someone to walk you in." Doing as he was told, he was soon walking down his own driveway escorted by a female officer. As he walked forward, he saw another officer, his paw on the head of a cheetah, putting the offender into the back of a police car. The right side of the cheetah's face was battered and swollen, but James could still tell who it was, and he stopped in his tracks the moment he recognized him.

"Marcus," James growled, and he started moving towards the closing car door. The officer with him, a female bear, put her huge paw in front of him and halted his progress.

"Hold it, sir. Stop right there."

Looking at her stern expression, he stopped, and watched numbly as the door closed, and the vehicle started pulling away. "Is … is everyone okay?"

"Yes, sir. Let's go up to the house. The sergeant wants to see you."

They walked together towards the front porch, but as they mounted the steps, they heard laughing, actual guffawing. "No, no! I gotta see that again, please! Just one more time!"

"Alright, you guys," Terry's voice said, wryly, as the new arrivals entered the room. "Welcome home, Jim! You're just in time for the movie." Terry was seated on a chair near the television with his bad leg propped up, a group of about five police around him.

"This the owner?" a black cougar in uniform asked.

"Yes, sir, sergeant. James Sheppard, Esquire," Terry offered, by way of introduction.

"Sergeant Clarence Carter," the cougar replied, extending his paw. "You've got quite an attentive house guest here. He's a real hero."

"Oh come on, please stop," Terry groaned, rolling his eyes upwards. "You're going to give me the big head."

"What happened?" James asked.

It was the sergeant who answered. "Well, everything has to be proven in a court of law, but it appears that Marcus Fairchild attempted to break into your property. He had some pretty bad stuff with him to, as you'll see. Has he been a problem for you in the past?"

James nodded. "At my business. He was a member of the board who tried some dirty tricks and was removed. We also thought that he'd be under investigation for fraud, possibly serve some jail time."

"Well," the cougar explained, "I can't promise anything, but it would appear that he's going to be spending quite a while in jail. Shall we see why?"

It was then that James noticed that Terry had run the digital camera into the TV. Everyone huddled around like they were waiting to see a sports replay. Terry hit the control, and the video started playing. It started off with several still shots of a hooded figure approaching the house. Even from a distance, some of the close-ups clearly showed it was Marcus. Then, the video began. One of the younger officers said excitedly, "Oh, here's the best part!"

It was a darkened picture of James' front door from the inside, and suddenly there were some clicking noises. As the clicking continued, several of the officers around James started to chuckle. "This part just cracks me up," one said. "He's at this for two whole minutes!"

"A rookie on crack can get through in under ten seconds," the sergeant added with amused disgust. "And he didn't think anyone was home. He could have just kicked in the damned door."

"Ah, yes, but think about that a sec," Terry countered as the on-screen clicking continued. "He didn't want it to look like he had broken into the home. You add that up with what else he had on him, and you just try and tell me he wasn't going for some real body count."

"What did he have on him?" James asked.

"C4," Terry answered, grimly. James had an icy knot in the pit of his stomach. Terry saw James' expression and directed, "Get him a chair. He is watching someone break into his own house to blow it up, after all."

One of the officers slipped over to the kitchen and brought him a chair. Terry's big paw appeared on James shoulder and helped him down into it. On the screen, the door was finally opening. "Wait for it, wait for it," another one of the officers said, anxiously.

"Uh huh, there's the gun," the sergeant noted, clearly getting into the act. "Just three more steps."

James watched as the figure moved forward in the shadows. Suddenly, the lights went on, and Terry's fist was clobbering Marcus so hard he bounced against the far wall. The officers broke out in cheers and laughter as Marcus slumped to the ground seemingly handing Terry his pistol on the way down.

As stunned as he was, James had to smile. "Damn, Terry, one punch?" James asked.

"Who the heck needs a security system?" one of the officers asked, laughing, as they watched Terry search and call out everything he found on the now unconscious and bleeding intruder.

"Actually, I'm thinking it's a good idea, Jim," Terry whispered to him. "Keep idiots like this from making it so far."

"I think you're right," James replied. "Zig's got one at her house, and now I can see why."

As the Terry in the video bid everyone good-bye, the sergeant spoke. "Well, now we have the paperwork and interviews to get through, if you don't mind?" he asked, looking at James.

"You've already got mine, don't you Sergeant?"

"Yes, sir, Mister Trask. No issues there. Your 'affidavit' should stand up very well on its own. I don't think we'll need you in court."

"Mister Trask?" James asked, smiling.

Terry sighed. "Terrance Trask," the big wolf admitted with an aggrieved smile. "You sure know your manners, Sergeant, but let's keep it to Terry."

Ten minutes later, as James was at the table answering questions and filling out paperwork, the phone rang. "Terry, can you get it?" James asked.

"Sure thing, amigo," the wolf replied. "Sheppard residence, Terry speaking. Whoa, whoa, slow down Zig! Everyone's okay. No, he's tied up with the police. No, not like that, actually answering questions, filling out paperwork. I'll ask." Terry lowered the receiver and put his paw over the mouthpiece to muffle it. "Jim, it's Zig. She wants to know if you need her to come over?"

"Do I need to go to the station or anything?" James asked the sergeant.

"I don't think so. We should be done here by about five."

"Can she come over after five?" he asked.

Terry pulled the receiver back up. "Hey, they think they'll be done by five or five thirty. James was wondering if you could come over after? Okay, I'll tell him. Okay, but he won't like it as much coming from me. Bye."

"What did she say?" James asked, when he heard the phone hang up.

"Uh, she'll be by around 5:30 or so," Terry said. "The rest of the message I'll let her deliver," he added quietly, smiling.

###

At thirty minutes after five, Zig pulled up in the driveway, and saw James sitting out front on the porch swing; Terry was nowhere in evidence. "Everything looks … normal," she observed cautiously, getting out of the car.

"You should have seen it when I drove up; it looked like one of those scenes from the end of the Blues Brothers," James observed, walking down to her. "Hi beautiful," he said, kissing her gently.

"Handsome lover," she offered, after they broke their embrace. "Are you okay?"

"Mostly," James answered, ironically. "Any day I have to spend several hours with the police isn't exactly what I call a good day, and honestly," he said with more seriousness, "I'm a bit shaken up that someone tried to break into my house."

"Do they know who it was?" she asked, still holding onto him looking up into his eyes.

James bared his teeth as he answered. "Marcus."

"You have got to be kidding me, James! Damn that fur!" Zig shouted pulling away and stamping her foot angrily. James had to admit her reaction, while fierce, was very endearing. He hated what he had to tell her next, but he knew she had to know.

"Zig, that's not the worst part. He was carrying -" he found it hard to actually say the word.

"What?"

"Explosives."

"James!" she exclaimed in horrified disbelief. Zig's mouth dropped open, and for several seconds, she couldn't say anything. Finally, she managed to ask, "Are they going to arrest him?"

James smiled broadly. "They already did. Terry blindsided him the moment he stepped in the door — hit him so hard, there were teeth on the floor. Gonna have a time getting the blood out of the rug."

"You let me handle that," Zig instructed him. "We occasionally have little spills in the studio with … new actors … sometimes? There's someone I can call. You won't ever know it happened. So, Terry jumped him, kicked his tail?" she asked, a little vicious smile gracing her muzzle.

"And what's more, he took a video with the camera as Marcus broke in, had it recording sitting on a table. The police took the memory card as evidence, after they watched it four or five times for a good laugh."

"Was it that funny?"

"Well, perhaps not as much to me as it was to them."

"What did it show?" Zig asked as she walked with him to the porch. While they were sitting, James did his best to tell her what he had seen, and by the end, Zig was laughing as he pantomimed out Marcus being hit, and Terry giving him the once over. "Oh, that's just fantastic! So was it just Marcus?"

"Terry thinks someone else had to be involved, providing the C4, if nothing else. The police are getting search warrants for Marcus' property and everything else. If there was anyone else, and he wrote it down, they'll get it."

Zig nodded, and she was quiet for awhile, obviously trying to take it all in. She pulled James closer to her. "He meant to kill you, didn't he?"

"Yeah," James replied, his mouth dry.

She was quiet again. A few moments later, she said, "James, I want to buy you a security system for the house." James sighed. "Just to protect things when you're not here."

James shook his head. "Terry already hit me with that suggestion. If you two are in agreement, I'm outnumbered."

"Exactly! Just let me take care of it, okay? I have a great service, and I've used them for years."

"You're not paying for this, Zig," he said firmly.

She turned and looked at him. "James, I'd give up everything I have to keep you safe."

He smiled and buried his muzzle in her hair, hugging her. "I know. You, too. You mean everything to me." They stayed like that for a few minutes. Afterwards, he asked her, "You hungry?"

"I could eat," she said smiling.

"What do you want?"

"Surprise me, Executive Chef Sheppard." She was about to suggest something after dinner, but remembered their house guest. "Where's Terry?"

"Out in the shop," James explained. "The package with his motorcycle parts came in the middle of this, by special courier. Thankfully, I convinced them to let the driver bring it in. Terry was grateful."

Zig thought she picked up on a tone in his voice. "James, I'm sorry I caused you to be burdened with him."

"Don't be. He probably just saved my life and a bunch of others, too. Marcus had a list. Everyone on the board."

"Doug and Kelly, too?" James nodded, eyes closed. "You told him?"

"Yeah, I called Doug already," James explained. "Not a fun conversation. He called Kelly and told her to get out of the house and get to a neighbor's house down the street. When I last talked to him, the police were sweeping his home. Scary stuff."

"I'm so grateful that no one got hurt out of this, well, with one exception," Zig chuckled. She hugged him once again, trying hard to shove the possibility of what might have happened out of her mind. "If you want to start cooking, I'll go check in on Terry."

"Sounds good," he said, leaning over and kissing the side of her muzzle.

He started to get up, and she pulled him back down, laughing. "Oh, no you don't!" she growled, playfully. She grabbed him and gave him a fierce, passionate kiss that lasted for over a minute. Then, all of a sudden, she jumped up and darted beyond arm's reach. "Well, aren't you going to get up?" she asked, seductively swaying her tail inches out of his grasp.

"Ahem," he replied uncomfortably. "I think I'm up … already. I guess I'll sit here for awhile. You just love doing that to me, don't you?" She just smiled at him and winked as she walked away.

###

In the workshop, Terry was sitting in front of the large worktable with a bunch of open boxes and parts, shaking his head. "Geesh. I really should be smarter than this, considering," he sighed, looking at the piles of parts.

"Terry?" Zig's voice called from the doorway.

"Oh, hi there!" he answered, smiling.

"You okay? You sounded a little … frustrated."

"Oh, don't mind me," he told her, rubbing his paw on his forehead in frustration. "I'm just trying to figure out how all of these parts actually can fit on the bike. Sheesh, I'll have to disassemble half of it just to get them on. I'm glad the parts arrived a day early - it'll take me more time than I thought to finish this, I'm afraid."

"That's not what I meant," Zig said, stepping forward and touching his bandaged paw lightly. "With happened today … are you okay?"

"Fine, dear lady, just fine," he answered, patting her paw with his, gratefully.

"I heard you clocked Marcus pretty good," she noted appreciatively. "I can't tell you what kind of revenge I've wanted to take against that sickening waste of fur since he went after James! From what James told me, you hit him so hard he bounced against the wall!"

Terry chuckled ruefully. "I have a rule. If they're intent on hurting me, I don't stop until they can't. With Marcus, it was easy. He's an amateur."

"But just one punch?" she asked, shaking her head.

"If it's in the right place, one punch is all it takes. Want me to show you?" Zig nodded, although a little unsure. "Turn this way. Now, ball up your fist." He took her arm gently and angled it to a place on the side of his head. "If you can catch your opponent here, unawares, the shock will generally put them down without killing them. However, you might take out an eardrum and a few teeth." He released her arm, but she left it there, recoiled it, and slowly swung it back to the same position, as if in practice. "That's exactly right. Now, if the target doesn't go down that instant, follow up quick. Grab them and go at the other side. That's a guaranteed take-down."

"You don't like wait a second and see if it worked?" she asked.

Terry shook his head in warning. "You ever heard that bit about underestimating your opponent? If you don't give them a chance to regain their footing and mount a counter attack, you don't have to worry about it. You already know they want to harm you, so strike fast and use instinct."

She removed her paw, considered him for a moment, and then pulled up a chair as he started glancing over the array of parts on the table. "Terry, do you fight a lot?"

"Only when I'm absolutely forced to," he answered, apologetically, still trying to sort the pile in front of him, and not looking at her directly. "Most times, I'm smart enough to avoid it."

Zig looked at him again, tightening her eyes. The wolf was certainly strong, seemed nice enough, but then again, to most everyone who wasn't a family member, one individual of her household growing up didn't seem as scary or vile as he actually was. "Terry, have … have you ever hit a woman?" she asked, carefully.

Terry vacillated for a moment. "Well, I guess you would call it more wrestling than hitting. You see, I was in this bar, getting something to eat. This female body-builder comes up to me with her friends when I'm about halfway through eating my pizza and tells me that I'm in their place. I apologize and offer to move somewhere else. Just as I do, she sucker punches me in the gut, says I'm just patronizing her."

"What happened then?" Zig asked, picking up one of the new parts and looking at it.

"The next time she throws a punch at me, I duck to one side and let it pass by. For all her muscle, she was about as agile as a tour bus. I wrap around behind her, get her in a sleeper hold, and start to put her down. Her friends look like they want to step in, but I warn her that if they get into the fray, the gloves will come off, and all of them will be leaving on stretchers. They all backed down just as her friend made a nice thump on the floor. At the management's insistence, they dragged their unconscious friend somewhere else."

His answer wasn't as bad as she thought it might be. "At least you warned them," she replied.

"I always try, at least once."

"So, what do you think Marcus was going to do?" Zig asked, again not making eye contact. Terry sighed and thought for moment as he scanned an instruction sheet. "Terry?"

Finally, closing his eyes, he softly uttered two words, "Scorched earth." He looked up at her for a moment, before he went back to the instruction sheet.

"Meaning?" Zig asked cautiously, unsure of the reference.

"James tell you about what he was carrying?" Zig nodded. "C4 is a military grade explosive, and the detonators he had with it were on timers. Marcus had charted out a route that would allow him to plant explosives and have them go off at the same time. That way, no one gets a chance to warn anyone else. James was his first stop, since everyone else was in the city. Even still, it wasn't a bad idea to warn all of those on the list, though."

"He didn't target the studio or my house?" she asked, feeling sure that James wouldn't have failed to mention it.

"No. From what I saw of the list, Marcus was going after SCS board members only. Although he might have killed some others accidently, he didn't seem intent on it. I've seen his type before, unfortunately. In their minds, what use is causing death and destruction if there's no one left to grieve?" he asked, resigned.

Zig turned her head in disgust. "Sick," she spat.

"Yep. Glad to have that one off the street," Terry agreed.

"I hope so," she growled, angrily. "That bastard will probably have a good lawyer."

Terry actually chuckled. "Can't tell you for certain, but I think Marcus isn't going to see daylight out of prison ever again. The explosives he was carrying pushed his little scheme to a whole new level — the federal level. Since no one actually died, I doubt they'll take his life, but he and whoever put those explosives in his paws are going to grow old and die under the gentile care of the federal penitentiary system. I sincerely doubt you will ever have to worry about him again."

Zig stood, walked over to the big wolf, and kissed him on the side of the muzzle. "Thanks, Terry. I owe you one."

"That makes us even, I guess," he replied, smiling. She looked at him, curious, but he turned and raised his nearly bare tail as evidence.

She chuckled, shaking her head, and asked, "Dinner's going to be ready soon, want me to come get you?"

"Sure enough. Thanks."

"No," Zig replied, just as she was closing the door. "Thank you."

###

They were about halfway through dinner, largely having a good time talking over what happened, but the conversation had waned. Terry seemed to notice something, and then smiled as he looked down at them. "You know, would you two pardon a somewhat … private … suggestion?"

"I suppose," James answered, curious. Zig nodded as well.

"Why don't you two head over to Zig's place tonight, spend the night there? I'll hold down things here, make sure everything's locked up tight. I can call you if there's any trouble." James and Zig looked at each other surprised, and a little hesitant. "Come on, you two. You guys miss each other, and … I think you need some time together after this, just by yourselves. It's not hard to tell. Besides, I'd like to pull an all-nighter on the bike."

James looked into Zigs eyes, and he knew what his answer was going to be. "If you're sure?"

"I'm sure, amigo," he replied with a contented smile. "I won't look for you until tomorrow evening."

"What will you do for food?"

"I'll manage. I think I can get pizza deliveries even this far out, if I call the right place."

"Okay then. I'll set you up with the number before I go, but you're welcome to use anything in the kitchen as well. Thank you Terry," James said.

"Thank you guys. I wouldn't have a place to hold up and heal and get my bike back together if it weren't for you."

###

A few hours later, James and Zig were laying in bed together, closely entwined and staring up at the ceiling. Terry had been right; they had needed that time together, especially tonight. Both knew it wasn't going to be the kind of night where they spent hours upon hours in ferociously passionate lovemaking. Tonight, it was different — so different. They had slipped into bed, snuggled up together, and just stayed there, silent for many minutes clinging to one another.

"I almost died today," James thought, and it was a chilling realization. Just when he had started to actually live again, how cruel it would have been to be snuffed out or sentenced to a burn ward somewhere, disfigured for the rest of his life. He imagined Doug and Kelly gone, their dreams of a child forever ended. He could only imagine the crushing heartbreak that would splinter the soul of the lovely creature now in his arms. While they had not reached the stage in their relationship to commit to one another forever, that stage was not so far away. It may take them years to walk the last few steps, but they were essential to one another now. "What if she had come home with me tonight?" he asked himself. Could he have been in the shed and watched one more love of his life die? Could he have kept on living?

"James?" Zig finally broke the silence, her voice quavering.

James had to struggle to answer. "Yes, Zig?"

"What are you thinking about?"

He sighed. "You really don't want to know," he whispered.

"You're not worrying about Terry and the house, are you?"

James had to admit that he had a little hesitation in leaving, but then he kept imagining explosive fire thundering out the windows and the place burning to the ground. Terry had kept that from happening. Terry had kept them from possibly dying. "No, not really. I'm just thinking about … how close it was."

"Yeah," Zig replied in a choked whisper. He thought he heard her sniff. It was very rare if not unheard of for Zig to cry, but still, he had to be sure. He reached out, stroked the side of her face, and found the wet touch he feared.

"I'm here, now, Zig," he tried to say reassuringly. "It's okay. Everyone's okay."

"Do you know how you were … about Beth?" she asked in a voice that was now breaking. "That's … how … I'd be, if … something …" In the dim light of the bedroom, he couldn't see her as well as he would like, but he could see her jaw clenched shut, eyes closed hard, chest raising in quick sob-fighting shocks. He felt every muscle in her body tense up, fighting her emotions.

"Happened to me?" he asked, his eyes now tearing, too.

Zig's acknowledgement was a cry of anguish as she lost the struggle to clamp down on her narrowly avoided grief. It had come far too close to her, and seeing it ripped Zig apart in a way she couldn't fight. She was sobbing, hard, openly, more than she had in a very long time. "Me, too," he whispered. Both of them held one another and cried for a long time.

"I love you," he finally said. "If there's anything I can do about it, I'll stay around as long as I can. I never want to be anywhere but right beside you."

She grabbed onto him like she was drowning, burying her head in the fur of his neck. A few moments later, she breathed, "I love you, too." He held her tighter, still, and they stayed that way, finally drifting off into a sleep only made possible by the physical reassurance of each other's presence.

###

The next afternoon, Terry looked at the bike, and then at the exhaust tube clamp in his paw, and then looked at the bike, and then back at the instructions. "I'm sure it isn't me, this time! This diagram is actually backwards," he said to himself, amused.

A light tap at the door of the workshop alerted him to a presence he had already sensed approaching. "Come in," he said, and then smiled when he saw Zig Zag entering the door. "Hi there! Where's the boss man?"

Zig shook her head ruefully. "Dealing with problems at work. He's going to be back late, but he didn't want you to feel abandoned."

"I appreciate the thought, but he didn't have to do that, and neither did you. Thank you, though. How is he?" Terry asked, putting the part down and sitting.

She took a stool, as well. "Still in shock. Doug, too. They both weren't in a good place today, and I don't think I was either. I like totally blew up on someone. Marvin … forced me out of the office."

The wolf nodded thoughtfully. "Don't worry, it will work itself out. It's a shock, to be sure. However, it may help you to know we got a phone call today from the district attorney."

"Oh?"

"Uh huh. The charge against Marcus is six attempted murder ones, illegal possession of military ordinance, fraud, conspiracy, and the list just goes on and on and on! A private investigator, Fred Creiton, is being fingered with arranging his access to the C4 and detonators, so he's warming a jail seat right now, as well. I also have an offer from the D.A. indicating that he'll fax us a copy of the note he just sent to the defense. There'll be no plea deal, and they're going for maximum sentences. Marcus can't afford a lawyer, since so much of his estate is tied up in the fraud investigation, so he's only getting the public defender. What's more, he's on a suicide watch."

"I hope they blink a few times," Zig replied, testily.

Terry laughed hard at that one. "Send the guards a gift basket of crossword puzzles! Video games! Sunglasses painted black!"

Zig started laughing, if nothing more than at how much Terry was enjoying his own joke. "A portable DVD player? Oh, I bet I could get them distracted," Zig said, running her paws all along her shapely sides. At this, Terry lost his footing and fell on the floor laughing uncontrollably.

"Talk about payback!" he gasped as he finally clawed his way back up to a sitting position. "Oh," he said, tears streaming down his face. "I just love it when the bad guys end up as the butt of the joke."

"You okay?" Zig asked, looking at the wolf as he pulled himself, a little painfully, back up to the stool.

"Yeah, yeah, no problem. Although that's probably the most I've moved the thing since cracking up," he observed pointing at his bandaged leg.

"It's your own fault, you know," she said, chuckling. "You started it."

"Did not."

"Did, too!"

"Did not!" he said, just like a kid.

"Did, too!" Zig said, and stuck her tongue out.

He laughed again. "You're a riot, Zig!"

"Terry, you're a lot of fun, too. Besides, I -" the fun dropped out of her facial features as stark reality again intruded into her thoughts. "James and I owe you our lives. Kelly and Doug, too."

"There, there, Zig," he replied comfortingly. "Don't imagine that I wasn't into saving my own fur, too. Well, what's left of it," he added wryly, raising his tail.

She shook her head, shrugging off the joke. "Seriously, Terry, we both feel so fortunate that you were here. And last night — I can't thank you enough for last night." He nodded, eyes closed, understanding written on his features. "How … did you know we needed that?"

Without opening his eyes, he answered, "Well, let's just say I know what it's like to have someone you know come after you."

"Oh," Zig replied, unsure if to ask him about it or not.

He sensed her momentary turmoil. "You can ask Zig. Don't be afraid of hurting my feelings. I've dealt with my past, well enough," he said, opening his soft blue eyes in her direction.

"Lucky soul," she thought. "So," she asked aloud, "when did it happen?"

"Many, many years ago," he explained, leaning over the table and wresting on his elbows. "It was my uncle. You see, my dad went off to war, and well, he didn't make it back. It was my uncle who took over raising me, but he was a disaster. I saw through his crap and in return, he tried to hurt me. When I fought back, he retreated for awhile. He even apologized, but in the end, he was just biding his time." Terry's voice was a growl, and Zig was transfixed not only by his story, but by her own memories. "He came after me in the night, during a storm. I was with some others at the time, friends — some of them. He was going to take us all out."

"No," Zig replied, horrified.

"He was a monster. He made this Marcus character look like a jaywalker."

"What … what did you do?" she asked.

"We fought," Terry explained, eyes closed, appearing to relive the memory. "He lost, permanently. I didn't want to, but when he attacked, there were too many other lives at stake. I hated to do it, and I've always wondered what my father would have thought, but still -"

"Doesn't sound like you had a choice," she offered. Before she knew what she was doing, she started, "I've had someone like that -"

"Your dad?" Terry asked, and a bolt of fire went up the tiger-skunk's spine. She shut her eyes as her expressed claws dug hard into the table. She knew he would press her on it, and she was struggling to control her instinct to lash out at him, verbally or physically. Very quietly, barely breaking through the turmoil of her own thoughts, she heard him say, "I see. Sorry, Zig. Please, consider the subject dropped." He quietly went back to work as she fought to reign in her emotions.

It was a long while before she could move or speak. "How … did you know?" she growled, far more accusingly than she meant to.

Again, his words were quiet, gentle even. "I've lived long and traveled far. You're not the first one I've met, by any means; my stars, there have been too many." His voice was sad, pained even, and he stopped working for a moment, seemingly too overcome by his own memories to continue.

What was fury and anger and shock raging inside of Zig Zag took on a strange current of interest as she looked at him. She could almost sense this aura of grief and shared understanding coming from him. Gratefully, he was not meeting her gaze as he slowly started to peel the scratch protector off the instrument panel. Her anger faltered, and now she wanted to ask a question, but she was afraid. It took her a long time, but finally, she uttered it. "Terry, have any of them ever got over it?"

He nodded, but then qualified it. "If you mean have they forgotten it or been able to completely eliminate the memories, no. If you mean that they're now able to live life without being crippled by it, yes. That's possible. I was helped by a few who had already conquered the demons of their past, and I've helped a few others conquer their own." He didn't turn to her or look at her, and simply crumpled the clear plastic discards and tossed them into the trash.

It wasn't a direct offer for help, or she would have refused it outright. Instead, he simply went back to quietly working on another component. "Terry?"

"Yes, Zig?" he asked, now stopping and looking in her direction.

She hesitated for a moment, but finally asked, "How did you help them?"

His face took on a gentle and barely perceptible smile. "Just talk, Zig, that's all I did. Some of it was painful, for sure, but sometimes it just helped them to know that they weren't alone. Others have struggled through and made it. How far someone gets is really up to them. It was just honest questions and honest answers. It was low pressure; they took a break whenever it was needed. They didn't even have to make eye contact, but what was shared was always kept secret. No one will ever know what they said, at least not from me, ever." Again, he gave her the space she needed by going back to work on a piece of the chain guard.

She thought for a moment and stood. "Uh, I'm, I'm going to call James and see how it's going."

"Okay, see ya Zig," he replied, his tone not pressuring Zig in any way.

Chapter 3 First Steps

About twenty minutes later, Zig pushed the workshop door open gently with the toe of her shoe. "I've got hot chocolate," she announced lifting the cups she held in her paws.

"Aw, you didn't have to do that," Terry said, gratefully.

"Well, be careful. This is pretty much the top end of what I can do in the kitchen."

"I'm sure that's not true," he retorted, taking the warm mug from her.

"Well, James tried to get me to learn, and it was fun, but I like that he cooks for me."

"He's a great guy, for sure," Terry agreed, sipping his drink. "Would you mind if I asked how you met him?"

Zig happily and quickly detailed their early meetings to Terry, who listened and smiled as he drank. After, there was a quiet moment as Zig stared into her empty mug of tea. "About what you said earlier," she started. "About trying to get over things. I don't know. I'm not sure I'd be able to handle someone asking me questions about my past."

"Good, because that's not how it works," Terry noted brightly.

Zig looked at him confused. "I thought you said -"

"At first, you get to ask the questions, and I just answer them — maybe I'd give out a suggestion or two. I know the histories of a lot of folks who've been through tough times," he said, pointing at his head. "Maybe there's something in there you can use; so ask away."

Zig raised an eyebrow. "Well, that wouldn't be so bad," she thought. Then, she puzzled for a moment on how to start. Zig knew what she wanted to ask, but was afraid.

"Hold it right there. I saw that," he commented, taking a final sip.

"What?" Zig asked, confused.

"Your expression. You had a question, but it was way too personal. Now, take a second, pull it out of your situation completely, and make the question general. Then, try again. Take your time; there's no rush."

Zig thought for a moment, pacing around a bit before she actually settled on a question she felt was safe to ask. "Okay, why are some girls more likely to be abused than others?"

He looked up at the ceiling as he thought. "It's girls and boys, actually, just so you know. What's worse, is that it doesn't follow any pattern of race, demographic, income level, or background. What's generally responsible for putting children at risk are the experiences of their parents or the other adults in their lives. The kids are just kids; they don't know any better. They're really not to blame."

She was quiet for long while, taking that in, as he started winding electrical tape around a pair of connections. Finally, she commented, "It doesn't feel like that's true. What did you mean about their parents?"

"Well, there's a lot of abusers who were abused themselves," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone as he worked. "It's not an automatic thing, but they're raised thinking this is normal behavior. Even when the outside world screams that it's not, the experience in the home impacts them far more deeply, regardless of how warped that experience is. For example, they'll seek out partners and spouses who are far too weak or submissive to fight them, drive them down, and abuse them. When the kids come along, then the pattern repeats itself. The other parent is powerless to do anything, or at least truly believes they are. It's a little like having an alcoholic in the family. Not every kid is going to be one if their parents were, but there is a higher risk."

Again, Zig was silent for a long time taking in his answer and trying to come up with another question. "What do the kids think about what happened, after they grow up?"

He shook his head. "There's a mixed bag, for sure. Some bury it and never talk about it at all, but it still affects who they are. Some believe that there was something about them that brought the abuse on, that they somehow either encouraged it or had done something wrong to deserve it. They walk around feeling guilty about it or become enraged and self-destructive. What's worse is that some of them, and this is where it gets females, really thought for a time that this was an expression of their parent's love, and they enjoyed it."

"Enjoyed it?" Zig asked, repulsed.

"Sure, at some level. The body has certain reactions when treated a certain way. Those are pleasurable feelings, and the abuser is already loved by the victim. Later, when that pleasurable feeling changes into fear at being hit or beaten, then they get this wrong-headed notion that they were a co-conspirator in their own abuse. If someone has the extraordinary inner strength to tear away, it's doubly hard. They're made to feel like they're in the wrong, somehow, and getting over that can be very difficult."

Zig was very still and, at that moment, felt very fragile. That was her. That was how she felt. She had been mistreated by so many of the kids in school because of the way she looked, that her father's comfort had been a welcome haven for her. Then as his consoling got more intimate, she played along, even though she knew it was wrong. When she resisted, he punished her until she was broken down emotionally and physically and had to submit. Finally, when she was old enough, she had escaped. Then, before her kid sister Brandy fell into the same trap, she got her removed from his house.

"Yeah," she said quietly, not looking up. After a while longer, she asked, "How … how does someone … get over that?"

"First, they realize that they were a kid, and not an adult. As adults, we tend to think of ourselves, even in our memory, as we are now - free to make our own choices, live our own lives. It's not true. We were weaker, naive, and at the complete whim of whoever was put in charge of us. I know this one vixen who just walked around her apartment all day telling herself, out loud, that it wasn't her fault. She kept telling herself things like 'I was abused when I was a kid, and I really couldn't stop it.' 'I didn't want it.' 'It's not my fault.' She said it took her all day before she even half began to believe it, but she stuck with it, and it helped."

Zig raised her eyebrows. "Interesting. What else?"

"There was someone I once knew who had a real hard time coming to terms with the fact she felt pleasure during those encounters. She sat down and thought about that one for a long time. She had to confess that, in her fantasy life, she still thought about those times, and they still elicited many of the same feelings. In the end, she gave herself permission to have that fantasy, because she realized that in fantasy, she could make it into anything she wanted, and she was really the one in control. She's okay with that part of it, now."

Zig Zag was quiet several minutes, staring into space as she sat on the stool. "Terry," she finally said. "I need to go inside for awhile, okay?"

"Go right ahead, Zig. It's fine."

She smiled slightly at the reassurance in his voice, but her emotions were a wreck. Feeling like she was walking this thin line between uncontrollable rage and debilitating weakness, Zig needed some time alone to sort things out. "Thank you," she said quietly as she shut the door, giving him no time to respond. For almost an hour, she simply walked around the house thinking, remembering good times and bad. Remembering how things started, how they went wrong, and what happened after. Had her father really been abused? It would never excuse what he did, but still, had he? Finally, she walked back into the house. Sitting on the couch, she stared into space for a long while.

Almost with thinking about it, Zig began to speak. "I … I didn't want it to happen. I couldn't do anything about it. It wasn't my fault," she said aloud, not believing the words, but still wanting to. She closed her eyes and started again.

###

It was well after eight when James pulled up in the driveway. Zig's car was still there, finally repaired, and he could tell the lights were still on in the workshop. A small light came from inside the house, so James, weary as he was, headed there first. As he approached the door, he thought he heard Zig talking, but there was something odd about it, a strange tone in her voice. He knocked and walked in, and she turned towards him. "Oh, hi," she said in a shaky voice.

James just stopped and looked at her a moment. He could tell something was wrong with her, the way her shoulders sagged, her tail lay flat, and her ears actually drooped — something he had almost never seen. She was smiling at him, weakly, and down the front of her face, long lines of tears matted her fur. He slowly closed the door and walked over.

"Hi yourself," he said tenderly, and James didn't say anything else until he sat down in front of her. Sitting closer made him even more concerned. The strong, confident Zig was gone, and in her place a much more timid, almost childlike Zig closed her eyes and leaned forward into him. "Oh, Zig," he comforted her, taking her head in his paws and rubbing it gently. "What happened?" She raised her head and looked at him. "Okay, stupid question."

"No, no, it's okay. It's not that; well, it's not just that. I've been doing a lot of thinking. I was talking to Terry." She saw his brow furrow in anger.

"If he's said anything to you," he said, warningly.

"No, James. He … he knows some … others who have had …. problems with their past, like me. I asked him some things, for some of their stories, and I guess it's just opened up a whole lot of old memories for me. It's hard, you know? I guess I keep this stuff buried so far down, bringing it up takes a lot out of me. He gave me a lot to think about, just answering my questions."

"Are you going to be okay?"

"I don't know," she admitted a little blankly. "I do know that this is the closest I've been to some of these feelings in a really long time without … losing it. James, when you looked at me just now, I could see it in your eyes. I know I look different, act different when I'm thinking about these things, which is one reason why I never do. When I do, I'm not really Zig Zag anymore. I'm Tonya Zumbrowski again, that little scared kid. I … try not to ever be that … weak. In the past, when I did, it was just useless, but now … I think -"

James shook his head and looked away. "It's not like we're talking about someone who's a qualified therapist. He could be homeless, just a drifter -"

"Who saved your life," Zig put in firmly. James closed his eyes and sighed deeply. "I'm sorry," she said, softly nuzzling him. "Really, he's not trying to do any therapy. He's just someone who's had experiences, and I might be able to learn from some of them."

"Okay. So, what's he telling you?" James asked, dubiously.

Zig looked away. "Really shocking things some of the time, but some of it hits me pretty close. His own uncle tried to kill him after his father got killed in a war. I thought my situation was bad growing up; hearing things that are worse — it's helping me put things in perspective. I … I don't know where this will lead, James, but I feel like I need to keep going."

He looked at her, feeling more than a little helpless and fearful. "But, Zig, why? Why now?"

She took her finger and reached out and pointed back at him. "I … I almost lost you yesterday. I realized all day today how little I've actually been able to share with you, and how incredibly patient you've been." Zig buried her head in her paws. "James, at some point, if we're going to stay together, then the nightmares have to stop. It's not safe to sleep with me when I might come unglued and rip your back open."

"But Zig," James started, but she looked up and put a finger to his lips.

"You remember what you told me about how you had to deal with losing Beth?" He looked at her intently and nodded. "That was only a handful of years for you. I've being doing that my whole adult life. Now, I've got someone as wonderful as you who loves me, trusts me, needs me. I don't want to lose you; what happened yesterday convinced me of that more than anything. I'm not saying what Terry is telling me is the end all be all of what I need, but it's the first start I've ever made. Now, do you understand why I need this?"

James looked away again and thought. He remembered his own nightmares, not that long ago, about Beth, and how, after that painful night in the cemetery, he finally found peace. Slowly, he nodded and replied, "Yes."

"I want your permission. I want to take off the next two days to think, and I want to spend some of that time talking to Terry alone. I … I think I really need to do this, James. For the first time, I'm actually able to touch some of these feelings without lashing out. Terry's being really good about not pushing me. I'm not telling him anything. I just want to be able to tell you, okay?"

"Alright Zig, I'll agree. I just want you to be so, so careful, alright? I care too much to let anything happen to you."

She hugged him, smiling, and whispered, "Thank you."

###

He waved goodbye to Zig and watched as her car disappeared from sight. For a moment, he didn't know what to do. He knew he was going to the shed. He knew he was going to go talk to Terry about Zig. He just didn't know what to say.

As he walked to the shed, he realized that he had given an implicit promise to her when he agreed to let the conversations continue. Obviously, he couldn't kick Terry out, threaten him, or even try to keep him from talking to her, although he really wanted to. Despite the incident in the bed some time ago when Zig Zag clawed his back, James really didn't want anything to change between them. Zig, however, felt differently, and he knew he had to respect that.

James softly knocked on the door of the workshop and entered. Terry was lying beside the bike with several large components completely disassembled. "How's it going?" James started.

"I am certainly not a grade-a motorcycle mechanic, that's for sure, but I think it's moving in the right direction. How's things at work?"

After his conversation with Zig, his long day at work seemed like two days ago. "Oh, pretty intense, actually. We got several visits from attorneys and police, asking for copies of records. I had to tell the staff, too, what happened, so they wouldn't read it in the papers or on the internet first. In short, it was a pretty rough day." He stopped, and then laughed. "Doug was good, though. He kept bringing me back to reality when I would just sit and stare, wondering about 'what if.' He actually managed to pull my chair back slowly about three feet before I even realized it."

Terry chuckled, "Seems like a good soul. He's a good friend of yours?"

"The best. He said to pass along thanks to you on his and Kelly's behalf."

"Kelly?"

"Oh, his wife. They're expecting."

"Oh wow! How's his wife taking it?" Terry asked, concerned.

"She's always the level headed one," James commented, and then felt enough pleasantries had been dispensed with that he could now get to what he actually wanted to talk about. "Hey, Zig seemed really shook up when I saw her just now."

"Hmmm," Terry said, looking right at him.

"She said you two had talked."

"Yep, we did," the big wolf responded unhelpfully without being rude.

James looked off to one side and asked, "Terry, what are you trying to do here? What are you going for?"

"She's asking questions. I'm giving her answers." Out of the corner of his vision, James could see that Terry was looking him straight in the eye, but not in a threatening way.

"Are you sure they're the right answers?"

Terry raised his eyebrows. "Given that they're just stories and facts, yes. Now, are they the right answers for her? She's the one who has to decide that. No one else can do that for her."

James paused, looking down. He realized that he couldn't really argue that point, and that left him with nowhere to go, given his promise to Zig. Finally, he just said, "Terry, Zig's the most important person in my life. Her happiness means the world to me. There's nothing I wouldn't do to keep her from harm."

"I'd guessed as much," Terry replied, smiling a little. "James, you're the type who grew up in a good home, right?"

"Well, yeah, I suppose."

"Thankfully, you will never have to know what it means when that's not the case. That's a good thing, by the way. I know many who haven't been as blessed, and I've seen some struggle with it until they die — leaving behind only wasted, painful lives. I've seen others who realized that it didn't have to be that way. Zig's exploring right now. More than anything, she needs you to trust her and give her a little space and time to think. Did you know that most of the time this evening, she actually wasn't talking to me, she was just by herself. We only spoke for ten or fifteen minutes, tops. She needs time alone and a little help with perspective."

James nodded, as he didn't realize how brief the conversation between Zig and Terry had been. "Okay. You going to call it a night?"

"Seems like a good idea," Terry observed, standing up and wiping off his paws.

"Okay, let's go get some sleep."

###

When Zig Zag returned the next morning, James had already left. She drove up the driveway slowly, parked, got out of the car, and then just stopped. Zig stared at the door of the workshop, the lights ablaze inside easily seen in the dim light of an overcast day.

It had been a long night, and almost the moment she had arrived home, she had continued chanting her own version of the mantra Terry had told her about. "I was just a kid. I couldn't control what he did. I didn't know any better." Although she had almost stopped doing it several times, writing it off as silly and ineffective, something kept pulling her back to it — a force she couldn't explain. All while she had undressed, showered, and prepared herself for bed, Zig was growling it out, sometimes cursing it out, using all manner of words to describe "he" who was her father.

Then, she played around with emphasis while she snacked, finding a strange new meaning each time she gave one of the words a heavier weight than the others. "I was just a kid. I was just a kid. I was just a kid." Each version resonated its own special kind of truth, and each truth reverberated against some part of her psyche. Feeling strangely soothed by these repeated assertions, she finally sat out by the pool, looking at the rolling clouds in the moonlight sky. Gazing up at the moon shining bright above her, Zig's voice almost took on the plaintive, innocent tone of a child. She only stopped when she woke up sometime later, chanting the phrases in her sleep.

After she made it back into her bed, her dreams that night were unspeakably vivid, and contrary to her normal experience, they hung in her memory quite clearly after she awoke. In the dreams, Zig Zag saw the abuse, but now she wasn't a part of it, she was standing outside of it — watching, frozen, unable to do anything. Her own bloodied, youthful form looking up at her and screaming, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please, please forgive me!" had been what finally roused her from bed. She cried, for a long time, before finally getting herself together enough to get dressed, call James, and head out.

Now, she sighed, reached into her car, and picked up a bag she brought. Slowly, somewhat dreading what lay ahead but compelled to continue, Zig Zag walked towards the workshop. Without knocking, she opened the door and found Terry sipping hot chocolate and looking over a drive chain he had laid out on the table. "Morning," he greeted, turning towards her.

She said nothing, but reached into the bag and pulled out her bed sheet. Huge, claw-shaped rips ran through it, along with other stains and a stink that only comes from beneath a skunk's tail. Terry's nose wrinkled a little bit, but he nodded. "There's a beast inside the beauty after all, but that doesn't mean both can't be made whole. Were you awake or asleep when you did that?"

"Asleep," Zig replied flatly and then put the sheet away, before placing the bag outside the door.

"Remember any of it?" he asked, and she nodded as she took her seat near the work table.

"James always remembers his dreams, but … up until now, I never have. I used to feel jealous of him sometimes for that ability. Now, I'm not so sure," Zig complained. "I'm not sure I like what all of this self discovery is doing to me."

Terry looked at Zig, staring at the wall lost in thought. Whatever she had dreamed touched something deep inside of her — something very dark and very disconcerting. Sitting down on the stool next to her, he gently spoke. "A long time ago, in a land, far, far away, a troubled king was awoken by horrible dreams — the same two dreams, night after night. His cup bearer finally remembered someone he had met when he was in prison, and he told the king of the prisoner who could interpret dreams. When the king called him forth, the prisoner interpreted his dreams, and the land was saved from disaster. However, the king had to first confess his dream to the prisoner, or else all would have been lost."

"You're not saying you can interpret my dream, Terry, are you?" Zig asked caustically, standing up and putting some distance between them.

"I would be willing to hear it, if you're able to."

Zig sat down on another stool, but she turned towards the wall, intentionally not looking at him. For a few moments, she was silent, and he could see her claws expressing and retracting on the table. At the end of a long exhale, one obviously meant to calm her, she finally began. "I'm in my house, the one I was in growing up. It's late at night, during a thunderstorm. I've just been … abused, but it's not like I'm the one being abused. I'm … seeing myself. I look like hell - blood, and … other things … all over me. I woke up when my younger self started screaming at me. She -" Zig then fell silent.

"What she screamed might be important," Terry stated evenly.

Zig was quiet for awhile. "It didn't mean anything. She was screaming at me to forgive her, saying she was sorry; she was terrified of me, like I was the one doing the abuse." Terry closed his eyes and nodded, and Zig felt a stillness in the room she had never felt before. She looked at him and asked, "What does it mean, Terry?"

"Forgiveness was what was asked for, and forgiveness is what should be given," he answered softly. "If you dream the same dream again, forgive the child within. Even if you don't say it in dreams, it should be said as many times as it can be."

"But I didn't abuse myself! What the hell am I forgiving?!" Zig spat, angrily, standing up, ready to walk out on him.

"Weakness, innocence, frailty, shame — the curses of youth," Terry told her gently. At this, Zig nearly collapsed back into her seat and listened attentively. "We are who we are now because of who we were back then, and those we once were never fully leave us. The Zig Zag of today is strong, beautiful, confident, in love, and largely happy, but the Zig Zag of the past is riddled with guilt and horror, carried around inside like a screaming child that can never be comforted by being ignored. She has to be dealt with, forgiven, lifted up, and put right. She wasn't even Zig Zag back then, was she?"

"No. She wasn't," Zig confessed softly looking at the table, though her blood was still pumping fast from being so upset. "I had a different name back then." She was quiet a while longer. Zig's mind was in chaos, and she hated that. Like every other time in her life when she'd tried to deal with her issues, the journey was running aground on her desire not to dwell on things she couldn't control, or worse, couldn't contain. "I can't change the past, Terry, so why am I doing this? What's it all for?" she finally asked, frustrated.

On this point, Terry's delivery was forceful, certain, and even a little stern. "We face down the past in the hopes of living free. We try to do away with regret and pain and trade them for joy. We don't satisfy the demons of the past; we don't placate them. We banish them by being honest not only with others, but mostly with ourselves. You do it for yourself; you do it for James; you do it for whatever family and friends you have who need you to be everything you can be. We don't quit out of laziness, indecision, or … fear."

Without saying a word, Zig stood up and stamped out the door. She started to walk to her car, but decided against it. Zig Zag knew she was too upset to drive. Walking around the house, she muttered angrily to herself. "This is a complete waste of time! James was right! What complete stupid, self serving crap!" she said aloud as she got to the far side of the house away from the workshop. "This is stupid," she growled, pacing back and forth in front of a stone bench. "This is totally -" Zig Zag was suddenly frozen in her tracks as she realized what she was standing beside. James hadn't mentioned it to her, and she had only seen it from the window a couple of times. Now as she sat on the bench, she knew what the garden was. This part of the yard he hadn't kept up as well, but the nearly covered stone in front of her told the whole story.

"Dearest love, lost to me, given to eternity. The beauty found within this place shall never equal thy blessed grace."

She read it aloud as she knelt and brushed the dirt away. "For my Beth," she saw, roughly carved beneath it. "Oh, James," she breathed, and then she understood. Because James hadn't dealt with his wife's death, it almost destroyed their relationship before it really got started. How much more dangerous were the things hidden in her own past she hadn't dealt with? "No! He's right, he's right," Zig uttered broken-hearted as she sank to her knees in front of that stone. Above her, the dark skies opened, rain falling in time with her tears.

She didn't know how long it was before Terry found her. Lightning flashed around her in the distance, followed by a harsh peel of thunder from behind. Looking back, the soaked tiger-skunk saw the wolf, towering over her, paw open and extended to her offering her help. "Come on Zig! It's time!" As another flash of lighting struck, she reached up and took his paw.

"Time for what?"

"Time for a better future," he replied, lifting her to her feet.

###

It wasn't long before they were both in the house, dripping wet. "I'm sorry I walked out on you, Terry," Zig apologized as Terry went for towels. "You … you were right," she admitted haltingly as he wrapped a towel over her hunched figure.

"Come sit on a chair, Zig. I know he's got a full-up fur dryer in there, but you won't be able to use it until the storm blows through." She accepted his help and sat down, but she seemed unable to do anything else. He quickly got her a mug of hot tea and another towel to throw over her legs.

"Thank you," Zig said, as she sipped the tea. That simple act seemed to breathe life back into her.

"Mind if I break the rules?" he asked.

"No, I don't. Please," she bade.

"Have you ever told anyone about this stuff before?"

"Some of it I did, to a friend, when I was really drunk. She reminded me of that recently," Zig confessed, remembering Lillian.

"Doesn't count, you know? You've got to be in your sound mind. Now, I'll sit with you until the storm passes. Then, I think you need some time to yourself, okay?"

She nodded, closing her eyes, wanting to hide in the soft warmth of the towels around her. "Terry?"

"Yes, Zig?"

"Thanks."

"My privilege."

###

At James office, there was a fair amount of scrambling to shut down systems as the bad storm rolled through. Even though almost everything was on surge suppressors, the lightening arrestor was still on order. As James had his paws full making sure the techs had things safely shut down, he barely had time to notice that Doug was somewhat glumly sitting in the break room. When things were finally secure, James wandered in and sat next to his friend.

"So, how are you today?"

Doug grumbled. "You don't want to know. James, we have a problem."

"What?"

"Someone's making a run at the board," Doug said flatly.

"I don't understand," James replied.

"There are a few attorney's from the state office who've visited asking for board meeting records of all the other board members."

"Not from us?"

"No," the bear answered. "Thankfully, we seemed to not be a matter of interest to them. This all has to do with Marcus, somehow. They're hitting the rest of the board with some pretty stiff fines, and it just so happens that an investment group has somehow spotted our little enterprise as a place they'd like to flex their financial muscle. They're offering a fairly generous price."

James thought for a moment. "So the board is thinking about selling out?"

"Two of them already have." James jaw dropped open in shock. Doug nodded appreciatively and answered, "Uh huh. I've checked our share total. With that little adjustment recently, you and I now only hold, collectively, 45 percent."

James mouth hung open. "If all of them fold-"

"We could be hung out to dry."

James shook his head. "Oh dammit! Do we have any idea who the buyer is? Is there some way to set up a meeting?"

"The lawyer working for the investment group has acknowledged the request, and he said he'll get back to us. He wouldn't tell me much about who he represents, only that this is a recently formed capital investment firm, so there's no past history to go on. We don't know if they're a slash and burn outfit or if they'll actually try to keep and grow the companies they acquire."

James was silent for awhile and tried to keep a calm exterior as Doug was already feeling bad enough, but his gut felt panicked. Thinking about Zig Zag and the state she was in, he knew he couldn't hit her with this news right now. "Are you going to tell Kel?"

"Hell no," Doug sighed. "There's no way I'm going to tell my pregnant wife that her husband may be out of a job soon. You going to tell Zig?"

"No," James answered sadly.

"You two not having problems again, are you?"

"I … I don't know. Terry, the wolf biker guy we picked up on the highway, has somehow got under her fur. She says he's helping her explore ways to deal with her past. It scares the hell out of me, Doug, but it's what she wants. I feel like I'm trapped."

"You want me to come, shall we say, visit this individual when Zig isn't around?"

"No, Doug. He's big, even for a wolf. From what I saw when he caught Marcus, he can devastate someone with a single hit. He sure punched Marcus' clock well enough. I mean, don't get me wrong here. He's a nice guy, but messing around with Zig's past can be like walking through a minefield. She can get pretty … agitated discussing that subject. Still, I'm not that worried about him getting hurt -"

Doug looked at him with real sympathy. "But Zig could, and that scares you."

"Yeah. I feel so helpless right now, both at home and now, here. There's nowhere to go."

The bear patted him on the back. "Hang on buddy. We'll get through this."

"Thanks Doug. I hope so."

###

The storm had passed, and Zig was finally able to take a very long shower. In some ways, though, the shower had been a cleansing of another kind. Gripping the edge of the shower stall, she began to forgive little Tonya Zombrowski for being weak, for not being in control. She even forgave a young Zig Zag for partnering with those who continued the abuse, in one form or another. The more she forgave, the more came to mind, and it was only the end of the hot water that drove her out of the shower.

Terry had returned to the shed to work, after grabbing a sandwich and other supplies, and he'd told her that the house was hers for the rest of the day. So, after drying off, she changed into one of James dress shirts and went to his bedroom. Wearing the shirt helped her feel close to him, and Zig needed that security right now. Sitting on the bed, she continued to think of things, hour after hour, that she needed to forgive herself for. Finally, emotionally exhausted, she laid down and slept.

The ring of the phone jolted her out of a very restful nap. It took her a few rings to remember where she was before answering it. "Uh, hello?"

"Zig? It's me," James said, worried. "You alright?"

"Uh, yeah. I … I just dozed off for a bit," she answered, struggling to sit up.

"You … is it … are you okay?" He sounded so tense and worried.

"I'm doing a little better. I think … I think this might work out for me … for us, too. I love you so much for letting me do this."

He sighed. Even as worried as he was about her and about work, hearing her voice on the other end of the phone did so much to soothe him. "You're welcome. I love you so much."

"I do love you so. How's your day; any better?"

James sighed. "It's pretty rough. I guess we're still just dealing with fallout from the Marcus incident. Hopefully, everything's going to turn out okay."

"You sound worried, James;" Zig asked quietly, "is there anything I can do?"

"We don't know enough yet to do anything, but it's clear that something's happening. I'll let you know when I know something definite. What's Terry doing?"

"Other than talking to me, just fixing his bike as far, as I can tell. Looks like he's made some progress."

"Okay. I have to run. Be careful Zig, please, okay?"

"You, too, love. You too."

###

As she ate her lunch, she started thinking about that long list of forgiveness in the shower and when she was sitting on the bed. For some strange reason, Zig felt like she didn't want to lose that list. Looking through James desk, she found what she was looking for. It was one of those bound books with only empty pages. After flipping through it to make sure there were no special notes, she started writing and writing and writing.

Close to about five o'clock, Terry rapped softly on the edge of the door. "Uh, sorry Zig. Nature, you know?"

"Come on in, Terry," Zig offered, now fully dressed again. About five minutes later, he rejoined her at the table where she was still busily writing in line after line. He went to the kitchen and started to heat water. "Aren't you going to ask what I'm doing?" she asked, a little caustically.

"Writing a small novel?" he asked with just the right pitch of amused interest in his voice.

"No," she grumbled, stopping and trying to work the tenseness out of her paw. "I'm writing down everything I'm forgiving myself for. I started doing it, and I couldn't stop. I must have sat a couple of hours thinking of things to forgive myself for. I actually fell asleep doing that. When I woke up, I started doing it again, and then realized that I'd thought of something twice. I figured if I'm going to wallow around in my past mistakes, I should at least do a good job of it," she said in a frustrated tone.

He chuckled, "That's quite some list. So, do you think you're close to done?"

Zig sat back, and cocked her head to one side. "Really, if you think about it, there's not a lot of my life left other than the stuff I've forgiven myself for." Terry laughed at her ironic statement, but Zig was absolutely incensed. "You think that's funny!?" she exploded.

"Yeah," he answered good-naturedly, "but not for the reason you probably think I do. Look at that book, Zig! Flip through the pages you've written. You've just detailed every major and minor failing over your entire lifetime with the efficiency and ease of a seasoned historian."

"You think this was easy!?" Zig shouted angrily as she stood, turning on him and waving the book in the air. "This hurt like crap! It was hard, Terry! Dammit, it was hard!"

His face took on a truly compassionate expression. "Of course, Zig, I know, but I also know what comes next. It's harder."

Terry's lack of reaction to her fiery outburst was uncommon in Zig Zag's experience. Generally, when she got this angry and upset, conversations would stop and whoever she was mad at would either shout back or try to placate her. The big wolf was completely calm, relaxed, and absolutely not intimidated. Her anger damped down by the lack of reaction, she calmed herself somewhat and dropped the book on the table. "Oh, great! So, what's my next assignment?"

"You know what you wish you could have changed, and you've made some effort to forgive yourself for it. Tonight, in the quiet of your own home, I want you to think about all the things you've done that were good."

She flopped into the seat and sighed, "That will take all of about ten minutes."

"No," he disagreed gently. "I expect it's going to be very hard for you and take a lot longer than ten minutes, but this is some of the most important work you could ever do for yourself."

Zig's tail twitched irritably. "I … I have no idea … how to do that."

He sat down at the table on the other side of her. "Well, let me help you a little bit. Why don't you turn a few pages over and start a new section? Call it 'What I've done right'." He waited as she hesitantly followed his directions and scribbled the phrase at the top of a new page. "Now, let me give you a few questions to write down. Whenever you're stuck, read over these again and think, and I'm sure something new will come to you. First question: when have I done something wrong, learned from it, and avoided the same mistake? Second, when have I ever helped someone without any hope I'd be paid back?" He paused as she copied the question into the book. When she looked at him, the wolf continued, "Third, when have I been able to share a lesson I learned with someone, regardless if the person took the advice? Fourth, who has looked up to me and relied on me? Fifth, who have I protected?"

Zig looked up at him curious. "Are you just making these up? How many of these are there?"

"A few more," he replied, smiling at her perplexed expression. Again, he waited for her to catch up. "Sixth, when have I given someone who hurt me a second chance, regardless if things worked out or not? Seventh, when have I endured hard times and survived them? Eighth, when have I taken care to consider the feelings of another in what I've done? Nine, when have I been loyal — to a friend, a relative, or to an ideal? Tenth, when have I been willing to put aside my own pride for a greater good?" He waited, and finally, she was done.

"Well, when you … put it like that, I guess I could think it through," she replied bemused, looking over the questions for a moment longer. Then, looking at him with almost a pained expression, she asked, "Do I have to start right now?"

"Here's what I think you should do next, and it's just a suggestion. Why don't you meet James for dinner, and take a break from all this self examination — enjoy yourself? Later, when you're at home, look over the questions and start thinking about answers, but don't write anything - not tonight. Get some sleep, and then come back here in the morning, and start writing down what you've thought of."

"Sounds like a great idea," Zig said, dropping the pencil and rubbing her palm. "My paw's almost gone numb with all of this. So, why am I doing this part?"

Terry leaned back in his chair. "Let's not answer that right now, but let me give you some confidence going into it. Why did you just write down everything you forgave yourself for?"

She wanted to say, "Because you told me to" but then she realized he hadn't exactly given her that instruction.

He could see her inner turmoil. "In short, what did you learn from it?"

Zig thought for awhile longer and started slowly. "I've done a lot of stuff I regret, but a there's a lot of stuff I … I didn't have control over or didn't know enough to avoid." Then, something clicked in her mind. "Damn, Terry!" she exclaimed in shock. "There's a bunch of stuff I beat myself up for all the time that I couldn't control! I didn't know any better; I didn't have the experience!"

"And you just forgave yourself for it, so let's stop beating up on Zig. Okay? She deserves better," he admonished gently.

She closed her eyes and nodded. "Okay," she agreed, finally smiling. Looking up at him, Zig had to say, "Thanks Terry."

"It's not over yet, but you've covered a heck of a lot of ground today. You're doing really well."

Zig Zag stood and took a long look at the wolf standing in front of her. He was older than her, and as rough and scraggly as they come. Still, she thought, looking into his eyes, Zig Zag saw someone far deeper than she originally expected. The maxim "you can't judge a book by its cover" was a fallacy, Zig knew. The actual phrase was, "you can't always judge a book by its cover," which meant simply that most of the time, you could. Terry was different. He should be hard-drinking, devil-may-care, crass; hell, he should have at least taken notice of her figure and tried to grope around a little, but he hadn't done anything but treat her with respect, just like James did. Idly, the thought flashed across her mind that had there been no James in her life, she might have taken Terry on as her own little clean-up project. She started studying him, trying to imagine what he'd look like, all neat and trim.

"Uh, Zig?"

"Oh, sorry, Terry," she said, embarrassed. "Woolgathering."

"No, you were thinking something; I could tell, and I don't think it was too flattering," he noted, with a mock growl.

"No, hardly. I was just wondering what you would look like in a suit."

"Yuck! Uncomfortable," was his droll response. "Come on now, I have a bike to fix! You gonna call that coyote of yours or what?"

"Alright, alright, don't push me!" Zig shouted, laughing. When she got to the phone and saw that he was headed back outside, she offered earnestly, "and Terry. Thanks."

"Ma'am," he said with a nod and a smile before leaving. Smirking back at him for his use of "ma'am" when she'd told him not to, she had to laugh. Feeling happy at the prospect of talking to James, she dialed his number quickly.

Chapter 4 Of Storms and Demons

"Not another one!" James exclaimed, as Doug let him know another domino on the board had fallen. "Damn this is happening quick!"

"At least old Aslan is hanging on," Doug said hopefully, shrugging his shoulders. "With his shares, we still sit comfortably at 55%."

"Providing he doesn't fold also. Have you talked to him?" James asked, not assured by Doug's observation.

"He's out of town, but I've asked his admin to give us a call first thing."

The phone rang, and James just shook his head. "Sheppard Computer Systems, James speaking. May I help you?"

"Hey there, handsome," Zig said seductively into his ear. "You have a moment to talk?"

"It's Zig," James mouthed, and Doug politely backed out of the room. "Sure. What about?"

"You have plans for tonight?"

She sounded upbeat, in a good mood, and that lightened his own considerably. "Maybe," he strung out. "Especially if the lovely tiger-skunk that's the love of my life has a suggestion, perhaps?"

"I was hoping to eat out tonight. Do you think we could meet at Salvatore's?"

"Sure, you still at the house?"

"I am," Zig answered, "so give me an hour. Does that work?"

"Really well. You sound good? Are you okay?"

She sighed, and then answered, "A little exhausted, honestly, but yes. I'll tell you more when I see you."

"Terry coming?"

"No, silly! I think he's worried he's falling behind on his bike. Perhaps we could order him something nice as take out?" she asked.

That thought didn't make him as happy. "I suppose. Okay, I'll see you in one hour, alright?"

"Alright, and James?"

"Yes?"

"I love you. Bye!" and she clicked the phone off before he could respond. Zig giggled as she ignored the phone rings that shot back at her almost immediately.

###

"How do I look?" Zig Zag asked him cautiously, since James seemed to be studying her ever since she met him in the restaurant.

"You look good, Zig, as always," James started. "Although, I have to be honest with you. You look … tired."

"You're being kind," she said, smiling, "and you're right, I am tired. This is hard, James, really, really hard. I guess when it comes to soul searching, I must be really out of shape."

"Are you trying to do too much, too fast?" he offered, tentatively.

"I don't think so, but it's all connected. It's like a path I've started walking down that I have to finish," she explained, looking out the window. "Terry's really good at this. He's helping me see things I've never seen before."

James felt fear wrenching in his guts; fear that somehow Zig was being manipulated, and that maybe — just maybe — the big wolf might be trying to drive a wedge between he and Zig. "Such as?"

She looked at him and was about to shrug off his question when she saw the concern in his eyes. Immediately, her mind flashed back to that garden stone and what she had learned in that instant. Taking his paw in her own, she answered softly, "Such as the coyote sitting in front of me has been far braver and far more honest about dealing with his pain than I've ever been. Such as I am a real pro when it comes to beating myself up for things I couldn't avoid or didn't have control over, and that it was a stupid thing to do, especially for as long as I have been doing it." She reached across the table and took his other paw. "Such as the reason for me to do this has as much to do with you as it does with me. I love you James, and that's the biggest reason why I have to keep going."

James fears calmed somewhat — her touch, as always, a soothing influence. "Wow," he replied. "That's a lot. Zig, I can just tell that you've been in pain, that this has been really hard on you. It's … hard for me to see that happen. I feel like I ought to be protecting you somehow."

"But that's my problem," Zig disagreed with him. "I am in pain, and I've been in pain a long time, but stuffing it into a box and hoping it never comes out is what got me here. It might make you feel a little better, I suppose, to know that Terry told me to take the night off, relax, and not to start again until the morning. Oh, and I owe you something?"

"What?"

"I'm using one of your blank log books. Just tell me how much it was, and I'll take care of it."

"It's yours, Zig, please. Forget about it." At that moment, the waiter walked up, apologized for not getting to them sooner, and took their drink orders.

After he left, Zig asked James, "Can I beg a favor?"

"Anything, Zig."

"Can I come sit over there, and just be beside you for awhile? I'm not much into talking tonight, James. I just need you near me."

James immediately started shifting over, and Zig slipped out of the booth. She nuzzled up beside him, and breathed, "Thank you, my precious love."

###

It was ten thirty the next morning before Zig pulled up to James house, and she didn't get out of the car for another ten minutes. Terry's questions had dogged her relentlessly ever since saying goodbye to James at the restaurant. The fact that she wasn't supposed to write things down until morning seemed to just drive her mind harder. Although she had been able to sleep, when she woke up, Zig's paw went right for the pen and didn't leave it for thirty minutes. She had no idea why she was so completely compelled by this, but every time she stopped and wrote down what she had thought of, she'd think of two more things. Even when the well was finally empty and Zig started doing something else, more ideas seemed to seep back into her mind, and she had to stop and write them down.

She walked to the door of the shop and gently knocked. "Terry?" She hoped he wouldn't be upset at her for being late, but he was there, working on his bike, and his greeting was just as friendly as ever.

"Hiya, Zig. Have a good night?"

"A little strange," she admitted.

"Really? How so?" Terry asked, smirking.

That expression on his muzzle set her off into a fiercely exasperated rant. "This thing you gave me to do is driving me crazy! I thought I'd be done in a few minutes, but no! I've been working on this for like four hours straight! I had to stop and pull over three times on the way here because I'm afraid I'll forget what I just thought of."

He scrunched his brow, as if trying to remember. "That's pretty impressive, actually. Did you lay off working last night?"

"Yes!" she shouted, waving the book. "That only made it worse!"

He stood and offered her his paw. "Congratulations Zig! I'm proud of you!" Bemused, she took his paw and shook it as he continued, "You know this isn't the sort of thing you actually have to stop doing, either. You may get tired of it at some point, but this is a good thing to do even later, for years and years."

Letting go of his paw after a quick shake, she sat down on a stool and replied, "Thanks, Terry. However, as all consuming as this is, why exactly am I doing it?"

"Well," he answered, sitting on another nearby stool, "let's review. Why did you write down everything you forgave yourself for? What good did that do?"

"It helped me realize that I beat myself up for a lot of stuff I have no control over, and it's something I've always done."

"True, and now you've done part two. You're proving to your toughest critic that Zig Zag is worthy, kind-hearted, and thinks of others. Don't look at me like that!" he retorted, seeing her sarcastic expression. "I'm living proof it's true! What I want to know Zig is do you get it now?" There was another long silence as Zig sat, looking at the worktable and thinking. Terry calmly walked over, put his claw tip in the book, and opened it to the beginning of the section she had started the prior day. Audibly, he counted, without stopping to read anything, fifteen pages. "You do realize that almost everyone else runs out of material after about six pages?"

She shrugged one shoulder and answered, "I've always been good at self-promotion, I guess."

He laughed as he left her to sit back on his own stool. "Either that, or all those Zigs you used to be want their day in court. They want to prove their time mattered. Looks like it did, to me." Zig still looked doubtful, but Terry wouldn't let her stay there. "The world will try to tell you over and over again that you're not worth anything. You are a screw-up; you're a failure; you're an embarrassment; you are nothing but a meaningless number in a computer or one of a billion who are all better than you. You're a mistake; you're an accident; you're a freak!"

Zig seemed to be literally wilting under his verbal assault, and for a moment, she thought she heard chilling echoes of her own father until he blasted, "Fah! It's all a big lie! It's a sham! It's the world's way of excusing the lazy mediocre average in hopes that you'll think you're just one of the crowd! Fifteen pages tells me you're pretty damn worthy! The fact that you've built a life under pressures that would crush most others tells me your pretty damn worthy." She looked up at him at that statement; it was the same admiration that James had expressed for her. Zig Zag thought James only saw it out of love, but Terry clearly wasn't smitten. His delivery was clinically factual, but his next words took on a softer, less detached tone. "And that honorable and noble coyote who loves you tells me you're pretty damn worthy. That's it, smile, and now say it to yourself. Go ahead, try it!"

She looked at him, grinning a little in embarrassment. "What exactly am I supposed to say, Terry?"

"How about, I'm Zig Zag, and I'm worthy," he offered.

She repeated it, feeling really silly, but still, he kept coaching her to do it again, and say it louder and louder. Finally, she was screaming it. Abruptly, she stopped. "Terry, at everything I've done, I've always thought I wasn't good enough. You're telling me I am?"

"No, you are telling you that! Every fiber in your being is screaming that, hoping you'll catch on! That's why you're so passionate about writing this stuff down. Now that you've pulled off the layer of guilt, all this good stuff wants to be heard, wants its fair place. It wants to sit beside you and around you and comfort you when the doubts and fears come."

She shook her head. "I've … I've got to think about this some … okay?" she asked, standing and edging to the door.

"Go ahead, but you just remember, Zig Zag is worthy. I can tell you it's true, because I've known plenty who weren't, and you have, too, for that matter."

"Thanks, Terry," she said, closing the door. As she had prior, she started a long walk around the house to sort through these strange new realizations.

As Zig Zag stepped away from the shed, she felt a fresh breeze blowing all around her, seeming to be in as much of a confused pattern as her own thoughts. "Why does this all seem so new?" she wondered to herself. She was well acquainted with all of her failings, but she never actually thought to forgive herself for what she couldn't control or didn't know. When she did that, the pain around those dark moments in her life seemed to fade, like a fire burning down to simmering coals. The heat of the pain was still there, but it had stopped being heat and started becoming warmth. Especially when she laid today's work across those happenings, Zig saw that good did come from them — largely good she made happen. She suffered the pain of her father's abuse, but then protected her younger brother and sister from it. She'd taken rejection after rejection and made herself not only someone hundreds of thousands had lusted over, but the subject of one special coyote's honored love.

"Can Zig Zag like Zig Zag?" she wondered idly. That question stuck in her head as she turned the corner of the house where the garden stone was. She hadn't told James she had found it or what it meant to her. "I could like myself, maybe. This could be a whole new way of life for me."

"You'll just do something to screw it up," the darker side of her nature called, but even now, the voice of her demons seemed faded and dulled, and a voice inside of her countered the argument quickly.

"Maybe, but if — no when I screw up, I'll face up to it, learn from it, and who knows, maybe make something good happen because of it. Yeah … not a bad way to look at life," Zig thought, smiling somewhat. She stopped and gazed into the field beside James house. In front of her, about fifty yards away, was a beautifully shaped pear tree. She took a deep breath as the wind around her seemed to rise with her spirits. Stretching out her legs, tail, arms, and throwing her head back, she felt like she had been reborn in a way, and Zig laughed — joy overflowing inside of her.

The breezes around her ebbed, and she relaxed back to a normal standing position, again facing the pear tree. "Maybe, just maybe, she thought, I can get over all of this, but that still leaves -" Her mind was thinking about sharing these discoveries with James, and how that would mean she would have to confess to him all the things she had done.

A split second after she started that line of thought, she was transfixed by a brilliant blue-white light shooting through the sky over her head and touching the earth just behind the pear tree. The crackle and strike sound of a very close lightning bolt froze her in her tracks, terrified, and it felt like every fur on her body was standing on end, like she had been struck. The moment seemed to go on for what felt like an eternity of white hot terror where she could neither move nor breathe. It felt like she was having some kind of a seizure, which only ended as the peal of thunder echoed back at her as it rolled away through the surrounding fields and forests.

Before she realized it, she was screaming, running almost blind away from where the bolt had hit. Spots and lines cluttered and blocked her vision, just as heavy rain drops started to pelt into her. In the gaps where she could still see, a dark sky loomed above her with angry purple green clouds riddled with sparks of lightening. Panicked, Zig Zag ran through the yard, tripping and stumbling, unable to fully see. As her vision started to clear, Zig saw the shed, its warm light spilling out from behind Terry's silhouette, arms open, beckoning her to safety.

"Zig, are you okay?!" he shouted, running out to meet her. She was drenched, shaking, crying, unable to speak even if the now almost constant close strikes made responding all but impossible. He put his arm around her and guided her inside. He held her at the shoulders and looked her over as she shook uncontrollably. Seeing no critical injury, he put his arms gently around her and said, "There, there, Zig. I think you're okay. You just settle down now. Relax, everything's going to be alright."

There was a sudden gut-level revulsion at his touch, and Zig Zag violently pushed away from him, even her strength unable to dislodge the big wolf from where he stood. Her claws expressed themselves of their own accord - she couldn't think straight, but she managed to yell, "Get the hell away from me!" The tiger-skunk was enraged and out of control, teeth bared, her backside turned towards him, and her tail started to rise.

"Zig," he said quietly, stepping back from her and lowering his paws. "It's me, Terry. I'm not someone from your past, okay? I'm not going to hurt you, and you know that if I wanted to, I could, right? You know what I did to Marcus; I haven't done anything bad to you in the past, and I'm not going to start now. Take a breath. I'm not going to approach you, but I want you to listen to me. I'll give you space, but slow down a bit, think. Are you hurt, Zig? Do I need to call James?"

The sound of James' name caused her tail to drop, slightly, and the madly fierce expression in her eyes started to fade. "I'll call James right now if you need me to," Terry offered. "Anything you need, but let's make sure you aren't hurt." The adrenaline pulsing through her system started to ebb as she calmed slightly, and her hyperventilating breaths started taking a toll.

Just then, her vision started to close in on her, her claws sheathed, her tail dropped, and her knees buckled. "Terry … help," she cried weakly as she collapsed. His quick reaction kept her head from crashing into the side of the worktable. The big wolf set her down gently on the shed floor, just as her eyes rolled back in her head.

###

James looked at the radar anxiously, the handset from his phone against his skull. A fast busy tone sounded as he tried the phone at his house. With his browser, he zoomed in on his neighborhood, and while he waited for it to reload, he dialed her cell phone. The screen refreshed showing high winds, a possible funnel cloud, and multiple lightening strikes that were just peppering the region all around his home. "Come on Zig," he pleaded quietly as the phone rang and rang. Her voice mail picked up, and he said, "Hey, Zig, it's James. It looks like the weather is really bad right now out by the house, and if you can, give me a call so I know you're okay. If I don't hear from you soon, I'm probably going to drive out there. Love you." He hung up.

Wondering if she changed her mind, he called her office. "No luck," Marvin said that she wasn't there, but Marvin told James to tell Zig everything was going okay and not to worry. Doug looked at him from the doorway as he hung up the phone. "Zig alright?"

"I don't know. I mean Terry's there with her and all, but there's no answer on any of her phones. Zig doesn't much care for storms. Did you check on Kel?"

He nodded. "Yeah, she's climbing the wall. We've had a few close strikes. She'll be jumpy the rest of the night."

"My place is getting hammered," James noted as he looked at the radar, worried.

"Come on, James, once this blows over, head home and check out your place. I'll cover here," Doug offered.

"Thanks Doug; I'm going to do that," he said gratefully as he looked at a severe storm warning appear on the screen.

###

Zig woke in a din of noise — thunder, rain, wind, and she felt weak. She was looking up at the top of the shed, but couldn't figure out why. "Welcome back to the land of the living," Terry said, gently. Turning her head, she saw him sitting on a stool next to her. She looked down at herself, realizing she was covered with a blanket, her hind paws raised slightly on a cushion, with her head resting a little lower. She was also off the ground, which meant she was lying on James long work table. Her tail was conveniently hanging in a cut-out that was in the center of the table

She wiggled her toes, realizing that her shoes were gone. He noticed the movement and laughed a little. "Yeah, I don't have any idea where they went."

"Why?" she started, and she tried to complete the sentence, but her mouth was so dry that her tongue seemed a little unwilling to form words. She took a second and tried again. "Why am I lying like this?"

"Well, the simple answer," he said, pausing as another thunder blast boomed overhead. "The simple answer is that when you suspect your first aid victim has fainted or may be going into shock, you cover them, raise their legs and feet, and loosen any tight clothing." She looked at him warily, and he offered, "Now, now. It was just a couple of buttons on the back of the blouse and a few on the jeans — nothing dramatic. Looks like you had quite a scare."

She closed her eyes and nodded grimly.

"Are you in any pain? Is anything tingling or burning?" She shook her head and made a negative grunt. "Forgive me, Zig, but I did check you for burns while you were out. I smelled the ozone on your fur; I take it the strike was close?"

"Right … right on top of me," she managed, smacking her dry lips afterward.

"Here, drink some. It's just water," he said, reaching behind her and lifting her head. His large paws held her up, and Zig Zag was able to drink from the water bottle he offered. "I'd take you back into the house, but the weather's so bad, I think we should hang out here and wait for it to blow over. James has the shed strapped to the foundation and the roof strapped to that, so we're as safe here as in the house." Leaning back away from the water, she signaled she was done drinking. "There, I'm going to lay you back down. I want you to rest lying down for another ten minutes before we try to sit you up. Trust me; unless you want that water and everything else you've had in the last day to come right back up, you'll stay right where you are."

She nodded, closed her eyes, and tried to breathe regularly. The sound of the storm around her was almost soothing, in its own way. Terry was there, watching over her. She winced as she remembered what happened when he tried to comfort her before. "Pain?" Terry asked, concerned.

"No, it's just me. I'm sorry … about earlier … how I reacted. I don't like storms."

"I gathered as much," Terry said, his voice appreciative. "I guessed this reminded you of bad things that used to happen during other storms."

She closed her eyes and nodded grimly.

"I didn't mean to make you afraid. For a moment, I thought you were going to either cut me to ribbons or spray me for sure. May I congratulate you whole-heartedly on your superior self control?"

"Hah!" Zig laughed, but the loud sound ached in her head. Still, she smiled. "I wouldn't call almost clawing your face off and shoving you away as hard as I could good self control."

"I still have all my parts, and you still have all yours — well, except for your shoes, that is," he said, smiling.

"And my pride," she added darkly, raising her paw.

He laughed. "It's amazing how 1.21 gigawatts of static electricity will cut right through that pride and send folks running. No regrets on that, Zig. That was just survival instinct."

She leaned up on her elbows and looked at him as if he was the most clueless mammal in the world. "Dammit that's not what I mean, and you know it! I feel like total crap not because of the lightening strike, but … because of how I treated you!"

Terry smiled, warmly, almost gratefully. "I've got a thick hide, Zig. No harm done there. The fact that you even worry about it makes you far better than most."

She groaned in frustration, and slid back down to the table. "You don't get it, do you? I can't get over all that stuff that happened in my past. I can't change who I am!"

"Too late," Terry said. "You've already made progress. Now, you have to ask yourself a question. Did you really intend to magically change who you were overnight, or just understand yourself better so you can work on things, as you go along?"

"Well," Zig sighed, "option one does sound remarkably stupid, so I guess I'll be overly optimistic and vote for option two."

"Fair enough. Now let me ask you another question. Do you think you can do that alone?"

Zig looked at him with an angry expression. She knew that he knew the answer before he asked the question. "No," she almost growled, her dislike at being interrogated evident.

"And who is it that's going to help you?" She wanted to mock him back and say, "You will", but then she looked beside him at the bike. It was a lot more complete than it had been, and the realization that Terry would be leaving, and soon, caught her up short. It was only then she realized how much she had appreciated Terry's gentle way of prodding her forward, not changing who she was but coming to grips with who she was, both what she regretted and the good in herself she had missed. "I asked, who's going to help you?"

"I … I don't … guess it will be you, will it?" He gently shook his head, eyes closed. She found it difficult to say the answer, even though she knew it. Zig Zag now started to see where he was going, and her gritty brashness started to collapse. "James," she replied in a whisper.

He nodded, looking at her in a very kind and understanding way. "And in order to do that, and in order for you to feel like the love between both of you is true, what do you have to do now?"

Tears started to break from her eyes. "I … I have to tell him … about …"

"Everything," Terry completed.

"No!" she rebelled, turning away from him. "I'm … I'm not ready!"

Terry reached over and put his large paw on her shoulder. "Zig, you are as ready right now as you are ever going to be. You are more in touch now with who you are than perhaps you've ever been. You've got the love and support of an amazing partner. I think it would be a tragedy to let this precious moment slip away." As she cried, he said, "Here, let me help you." He bodily lifted her up, placed her gently on a stool, and started buttoning the back of her blouse as she laid her head on the work table and cried.

Terry patted her back and sat beside her, patiently aware of how hard this was for Zig, and willing to help her over these last hard steps.

###

James was nervous and anxious as he approached his driveway. He had driven around downed trees and past darkened stores and traffic lights for miles. His cell phone beeped plaintively that it had "No Service," and as he looked across the fields, he saw why. The cell tower had either been struck by lightning or had been hit by a powerful wind. It looked like half of the masts normally attached were just missing.

Turning into his driveway, he had to stop only a car-length's into it, because small trees and debris blown down by the wind were in the way. He wasn't yet able to see the house or workshop, so he jumped out of the car and started trying to make his way around the small hill. As he went, he ignored the sprinkling rain, stopping only to pull or kick smaller branches from his path.

Finally, he was able to get a full view of the house, which gratefully appeared fine, as did the workshop. Walking closer, James heard voices coming from his workshop. He recognized both voices, talking softly, but his sensitive ears could easily hear what was being said within was intense. With a sickening feeling in his guts, James peeked through the cracked doorway and stood frozen in horror. Although both were sitting, Terry and Zig Zag were locked in what looked like a heart-felt embrace. He looked away as anger, betrayal and fear seized him all at once. His claws grabbed into the wood at the side of the door, and his feet wouldn't move.

With almost morbid curiosity, he looked back. Neither of them were facing the doorway, although James could see Terry's face, eyes closed, brow furrowed. It was only then James noticed Zig shoulders, rising and falling in spasms; she was crying, hard. Uncertain, he kept watching. After a couple of minutes, they parted, and Terry held Zig's paws in his.

"How can I tell James what happened?" she asked Terry in a hoarse whisper.

Heartsick, James held his breath, fearing the worst.

Terry looked at her with deep compassion and asked softly, "Do you care about him, Zig?" She nodded. "Does he matter to you?" Again, she nodded, although a sob escaped her. "Then, you have to tell him. Not just because he needs to know, but for both your sakes. You need to tell him."

James was confused. He wondered what had happened. Zig had been talking to Terry for awhile now, and they seemed to be getting on well. Had he missed something else? He wanted to barge in there, but something kept him quiet and rooted to the spot.

"I'll lose control of myself, Terry! I can't control these feelings! For the longest time, I've told myself that he'd still love me even if he knew everything, but if he saw me lose control like that — if I let that … rage … come out of me … now I'm not sure! He might stop loving me, and I couldn't live with that!" Zig pleaded, as a very small child, full of fear, would have.

"That's complete trash, and you know it," Terry countered gently, but firmly. "You love him; you trust him, and you need his help. You have to trust that James really loves you." She was silent, eyes closed, head down. "Oh, you mixed up kid, you so don't get it. You think he'll stop loving you if you tell him what happened all those years ago and what you felt. You think he'll stop loving you if you let him see how deeply all of this affects you. Zig, you couldn't be more wrong. I've gotten to know exactly what kind of fur James Sheppard is, and I know, with absolute certainty, that he'll love you much, much more when you do tell him!"

James relaxed his grip on the frame and felt sick to his stomach. "How could I have thought they had done something?" he asked himself angrily. "You've trusted her, and Terry's given you no reason to doubt him." His head tilted back up, and he looked in again.

"Are you sure?" Zig asked, more fragile than James ever remember seeing her.

"Certain sure," Terry replied, smiling, his voice carrying such assurance that it made Zig brighten and James nearly physically ill with regret. He felt horrible; James knew that work had been weighing on him so much, but that was no excuse.

"Zig, you're not the only one with issues," James said to himself with regret.

"How … how do I tell him?" Zig asked Terry.

"I heard his car drive up. He's probably gone into the house looking for you. I would go to him. Explain that there's something you have to tell him. Take him into the bedroom and lock the door. Then, let him know what you're about to do and how much you're depending on his love. Ask him if he's willing to listen. Don't worry; he will be. This part is very important, Zig. He sits on the bed. Tell him not to touch you or say anything until you are completely finished — he has to promise, for his safety and yours. You sit on the floor, facing so he's just out of your line of sight. Pin your tail between your legs and claw into the floor. Then, start by telling him when all of the bad things started, as early as you can remember, and keep going there aren't any secrets left. Don't hold back; curse, scream, yell, cry — whatever, but you get through this. After, don't run. Stay there. Give him the opportunity to love you through this, okay?"

Zig Zag could feel the horrible feelings of rage and anger swirling inside of her, but unlike the other times in her past, they weren't threatening to take her over. This time, they felt like wild creatures inside of her soul fleeing a predator — still dangerous, but now strangely afraid. For the first time, Zig felt like they would bend to her will, not the other way around. "Okay. I just need to sit for a second before I do it."

When James heard that, he slipped away from the door and quietly walked away. He moved quickly around the side of the house so that when Zig left, she wouldn't see him. Then, James walked back into the darkened house, sat down, and waited.

"Terry, I'm scared," Zig confessed as she stood at the door.

Looking up, he softly encouraged her. "I know you are, but being scared doesn't stop this from being the right thing, does it? You've been brave before, many times. You are stronger than you know, kid. What's more, you're far better than you know."

Pushing open the door, she bowed her head, and replied, "I hope so."

###

James was sitting quietly and more felt Zig's presence at the door than saw or heard it. Turning towards her made him almost want to cry - she looked absolutely shattered. "Zig?"

"Can … can you come … with me, James?"

"Terry?"

"He's in the workshop," she said softly. James followed her into the bedroom, and just as he expected, she closed and locked the door. "James, please, sit on the bed. I … I've made a … I'm going to tell you … everything, but you can't talk to me, can't say anything, can't touch me — not until I'm done. Promise. Swear to me on our love, okay?"

"Anything for you, Zig. Anything." She smiled at him weakly and then looked towards the floor. Settling down, she arranged herself as Terry had suggested, and placed her paws on the floor. Gritting her teeth, she sucked in a breath and started speaking.

###

Nearly two hours later, James sat on the bed, watching Zig through a haze of tears as she finally stopped her confessions, her strength utterly spent. He had so wanted to do anything to help her as he watched her whole being tortured as all of the pain and shame and fear and heartbreak came pouring out of her. There were times were she almost seemed possessed by a horrible demon, rage and anger at her father seeming to sear her to her very soul. James had never truly been afraid of Zig before, but there were times as he had watched her where he knew she could have turned violent.

Those moments weren't the hardest for him, however. James had felt his own heart break in agony as she detailed the abuse her father had inflicted upon her. Not only Tonya's innocence, but the inner sense of herself were shattered by what this horrible monster had done to her. James had listened as that young, shame-filled child seemed to cry out, as if from beyond the grave. No wonder Zig Zag had changed her name; everything young Tonya was had been destroyed. Some miraculous strength of spirit had welled up from amongst the broken fragments and reformed the abused child into who she was today. Tonya's soul was the beautiful and fragile bird dying in the flames; Zig Zag was the phoenix rising in her glory from the ashes of that former life.

As the walls around her soul collapsed, Zig had confessed to him all manner and types of lovers — male and female — where those who tried to dominate her in any way similar to her father were quickly cast away, but each one leaving its own claw-marks deep into her soul. Zig Zag was the hard shell, but deep inside the tender lost soul of Tonya still wanted to be loved, begged to be loved, and despaired that it would ever happen. Now, as he wept for her and with her, still separated by just a few feet, he heard her utter, "That's … it … Tonya. We've … done … it. That's … all … we … have."

He had scant opportunity to parse the cryptic remark, because at that point, Zig collapsed onto the floor, insensible and nearly unconscious. Her back sagged, and her legs gave way, but her forepaws didn't move. Slipping off the bed, James gently approached her and found her shaking, her fur drenched by the intensity of her efforts, and her mouth whispering something inaudible over and over again, as if in a dream. She didn't react at all to his cautious touch, and James wanted to get her on the bed. As he tried to lift her, he received a shock — her claws had actually burrowed so far into the wood of the floor that they were stuck fast. Looking at them carefully, he saw that a couple of her paw fingers were bleeding slightly, so he didn't try to just pull them out.

Going to a nearby drawer, he extracted a knife and slowly, carefully, removed enough wood to relieve the pressure and allow the claws to pull out of the wood. When the last one was freed on each paw, the claws seemed to slip back in instinctively, the helpless tiger-skunk unable to willfully control any function of her body. Lifting the limp form off the floor, James placed her gently onto the bed. He pulled a chair up beside her and tried to think of anything he could do to help her. His sensitive ears started to pick out the words she seemed to be mumbling softly in her semi-conscious state.

"Please still love me." Over and over again, that refrain issued from her lips, sounding like the little girl locked in the closet, praying for anyone to actually care for her.

Gently, he wrapped his paws around her own and whispered back to her, "I … do … still love you. I always will." He repeated his answer back to her tenderly a dozen times or more before a new question fell from her lips.

"Which one of us do you love?"

He thought about that for a moment and realized what it meant. "I love Tonya. I love Zig Zag. I love you."

For the first time since he had pulled her from the floor, he felt the faintest hint of a squeeze on his own paws. Realizing what she needed more than anything, James opened his heart, anointing her with promises of his love for her, his devotion to her, and his hopes to always be with her.

Slowly, as if emerging from a deep pit, Zig Zag began to come back to life. Instead of looking up blankly at the ceiling as she had since he had placed her on the bed, he watched as she started to close her eyes, blink and try to turn her head to look at him. After stroking her muzzle gently for awhile, he saw a tender smile start to appear. As he continued to offer up his praise and love for her, she finally started to come back to him. "I do love you, Zig, and I always will."

"I love you, too," she breathed back at him. "Thank you."

Seeing that she was as close to normal as he had seen in the last few hours, he carefully asked, "Are you alright? How do you feel?"

"I feel whole, James. For the first time in my life, I feel complete, thanks to you." James smiled back at her lovingly, and with a wider smile, she gently tugged him off the chair and into the bed with her. For almost another hour, they held each other, James and Zig both expressing their love for one another, with words, with actions, with tenderness, and finally with enlightened passion. After one of the sweetest and most wonderful joinings they had ever experienced together, they quietly rested. Zig Zag's mind felt like she had at least one more thing to explain. "James?"

"Yes, my love?" he answered, curling up against her tightly.

She snickered happily at his affection, especially after the session they had just had. "Now, now. I wanted to tell you why I told you these things tonight. Why I didn't tell you earlier, I mean." He opened his eyes, and looked at her. She looked nervous, uncertain, but she went ahead. "I owe so much to you for being so patient with me, for waiting so long before I was able to talk about all of this. At some level, I was still afraid, though. I could never force myself to actually tell you everything. I was afraid if I did … you wouldn't love me anymore."

"But you have, and I still do. More than ever, now," James said to her, sitting up.

She smiled broadly and kissed him. "I can't tell you how happy that makes me. I needed a push in the right direction, though. I couldn't do it by myself, and you couldn't either — it would have frightened me more if you tried to force your way in, I think. Terry convinced me I needed to." She bit her lip, wondering what his reaction would be.

"Did he do something?" James asked, concerned.

"He walked me through a very dark place. It was a place I'd been afraid to go through for a long time, but he helped me do it. I knew I had to, for us."

"I'm so glad you did, Zig," James told her, stroking her fur. "It means more to me than you can ever imagine."

"And I was so blind," she breathed, sadly. "I can't believe I held back this long telling you because I was afraid that if I did … you wouldn't love me … anymore." She was starting to cry again.

"Never, never," he promised. "I will always love you Zig. I will always hold you. I will always be by your side."

After she collected herself, she whispered, "I didn't trust you. That was wrong. I'm so sorry James."

"I understand. In fact, I recently realized that I have issues with trust, too. But, now," he said taking her in his arms. "Now, thanks to you, those are taken care of. I understand you so much better now, and you know what?"

"What?"

"I really do still love you."

###

James stepped outside into the cold night and walked around the house to the workshop. With the power restored, the light was on, and a clank clank sound told him that Terry was still working on his bike. He knocked on the door, gently.

"Yes sir?" Terry asked, something obviously in his mouth. James opened the door, finding Terry lying beside the bike working on the exhaust system with a screwdriver in his mouth. "It's my own screwdriver, by the way. Not slobbering on your tools, I promise."

"It's alright, man. Can I sit down for awhile?" James asked, a little hesitantly.

"Please, it's your shop, after all," Terry chuckled, his eyes twinkling.

James sat on a nearby bench, and watched Terry work for a moment before speaking. "Terry?"

Terry now looked James in the face more fully, and seemed to recognize his host's unease. He removed the tool from his mouth, wiped it on a rag, and set it down. "Something on your mind. I can tell."

"Yeah. Zig Zag came to me tonight, told me about what you've been talking with her."

"Is that all?" Terry asked, sounding a little worried.

"She told me everything that happened to her, growing up, I mean, and after."

"I see. What did you think?" the wolf asked.

"Did she tell you?" James asked.

"No. Some of it I can guess, by … how she talks and reacts to things. I've seen enough to pull out from how someone acts the history they'd rather not tell you about. She told you some pretty bad things, I take?"

James looked away from him, muscles tensing, and his voice taking on a hard edge. "It's horrible stuff; I mean … I want to go find her dad and rip his heart out! I want to take her brother and pin him to the floor by his neck and force him to hear everything his old man did! I want to find every useless bozo who treated her like a piece of meat and just bury them! I want to do … something!"

The wolf raised an eyebrow, as he could see James was truly angry. "Chief, I understand, but you gotta be careful about stuff like that. You can't fix the past by hurting those who caused it. Trust me; I know the score on this one hundred percent. Just take care of that beautiful creature who loves you. Protect her, but don't risk the one she loves with such foolishness."

James closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. "You're right, you're right. I guess you speak from experience on this point."

"Not saying you're wrong, but what makes you say that?"

"Zig told me a little of what you told her. Your uncle?"

"Yep. Case in point," Terry said, grimly.

"What became of him, if I may ask?"

The wolf looked at him intently. "It didn't end well. Those who are truly … evil, who lack any concern other than their own comfort or pleasure, have a way of bringing about their own destruction. Where possible, I just try to sit back, have it roll off my back, and let Heaven take its revenge."

"Does it work?"

"Sometimes yes, and very well. Sometimes, no. As far as my uncle, he tried to kill me, along with a bunch of others. I defended myself, and I defended them. He didn't survive that."

"You killed him?" James asked uneasily.

"Incinerated him, actually, to be exact," Terry noted, picking up a wrench and tightening a bolt on the bike. "The judges who looked at the case easily called it self-defense, and I had more than a handful of character witnesses. However, to this day, James, I regret what I had to do. I regret that he gave me no choice." Terry paused for a moment as he changed wrenches. "If this horrible biological parent has chosen to leave Zig alone and leave her sister alone, then that's a blessing. In the end, everybody lives. As long as there's life, there's a chance at repentance. It's our job to keep that hope alive as long as we can."

"What happens if he hurts someone else?"

"Folks are a lot more wary these days than they used to be about that sort of thing. There are a lot more eyes watching. So if he's stupid enough to try and hurt someone else, something will happen: a stumble, a mistake, a witness. Then, his life will be absolute hell. However, what happens if he doesn't hurt anyone else? That's as valid a question."

James was angered by Terry's question. "But that man, who had the responsibility of a father, to love his daughters and protect them, that man who took advantage of them and used them — he deserves to be punished!"

"You're damned right he deserves that!" Terry shouted, his voice rising to match James. "But thank Heaven that none of us actually get all of the punishment we deserve! You don't know what that fur went through; most abusers were abused by their own fathers or saw abuse in the home! That's why justice is not ours alone to deal out. That's why we have words like mercy, grace, forgiveness, and hope in the language. That poor fur may one day come to realize what he did and what he lost and what he cost others, and they'll be no punishment you or anyone else can deal out that will be worse for him than that! I've seen it, James! I've seen it, and it's not pretty."

James calmed down and sat back down on the bench. "I'm sorry, Terry. You're right."

"S'alright." Terry stood, took a box out of the pile that was delivered, and opened it. "Perfect. Cluster replacement," he said, dragging it out of the box.

"Can you tell me about it, I mean, what you saw?"

Terry took a deep breath and then started. "There was an associate of mine who thought he could ride as well as I do, which, given the sorry state of affairs in front of you, you can just guess what that's like," he chuckled, and James did as well. "Well, he hotwired his vehicle in a new experimental way. Crashed it, totaled it, and killed four in the process, almost cost me the life of three good friends, too. He lost his license, his job, and he was penalized in all sorts of other ways. Now, he's stuck at home with the memory of what he did, and what he lost."

"Damn!" James groaned, closing his eyes. "He killed four?"

"Yes. They were young, too. Too damn young," Terry said as he started unscrewing the old instrument cluster.

James stood, and replied, "I'm sorry. I didn't come out here to argue with you. I actually just wanted … to thank you."

"For what?" Terry asked, as he shook James offered paw.

"For helping Zig. I think it's done a lot for us, getting everything out in the open. It was the … hardest thing I've ever had to watch, but it was what we needed."

Terry let go of his paw and patted James on the back. "You're welcome, amigo. That's the least I can do. She's one special lady."

James smiled. "I know that."

Terry chuckled as he pulled the instrument cluster off and disconnected the wiring. After a moment of silence, the wolf's eyebrows shot up. "Mind if I ask you something?"

"Shoot," James answered, leaning up against the shop wall.

"What's got your tail in such a bind? I'm a pretty relaxed guy most of the time, and I can tell pretty well when something's gnawing on a buddy's leg. Some rough stuff at work?"

James sighed, "You nailed it. Members of the board are all selling Sheppard Computer Systems out to some holding company. It's a front for nameless, faceless investors. Only old Aslan's holding out, but he's wavering, I can tell. If he folds, then we're at their mercy. They could call in all the debts, replace any of us, or sell off the company as scrap. We're all worried."

"I see. You're worried that someone's gone through all this trouble to buy your business, only to rip it apart. Perhaps someone just sees a good investment, or thinks your board sat on its butt for too long soaking up profits, and hasn't put money back into the business like they should. It has as much chance for being good as it does bad."

James threw his paws up in the air. "But what the heck am I supposed to do?"

Terry threw him a wicked smile. "How about what you've always done? It sounds like your business turns a good profit, and it sounds like you and your friend run it well. Just keep doing what you've been doing. Besides, if you worry, it'll just slow you down. If you're going to get a new boss, that's the last thing you want, right?" James harrumphed in frustration, and Terry paused his teasing long enough to set the last connection in his instrument cluster. He turned the key, and it lit up with brilliant blues, reds, and greens. "Now, that's more like it! If I work straight through, I'll be out of your fur by sun-up. Now doesn't that sound good?"

James looked at the older wolf intently. "No, Terry. Come on. Pull it in for the night. I don't want you leaving here tired. You may get sleepy and get into another wreck. I can't have that. I've got some cold stuff in the fridge you're welcome to. Water, juice, you name it. I'll even spring for hot chocolate with cinnamon."

Terry put down the tools, and sighed, taking the key out of the ignition. "You sure?"

"Yeah, man, please. I don't want to rush you out of here. Zig and I … well, we like having you around. We know you can't stay, but there's no harm hanging on another day, is there?"

"No, I suppose not. I won't lie to you; I am tired. I guess growing tail fur will do that," he said, raising his ragged tail. "Damn thing itches, too."

"It's settled then," James confirmed and turned off the lights as Terry walked to the door. As they were walking back to the house, he asked, "So where will you go next?"

"Wherever I'm led, which could be anywhere."

"You have a number? A cell phone we can reach you at?"

"Not anymore, but I appreciate the thought. Don't worry; if I make it back to town, you can bet I'll look you two up."

###

The next morning, Zig awoke to a low thrumming sound, and it took her a minute to place what it could be. The sound revved, and then she knew exactly what it was — the bike! Terry's bike. She was happy it was working, relieved a little, but still sad. Then, to her horror, she heard it pulling away. Jumping out of bed she ran to the window, but couldn't see. She slipped on a robe and quickly made her way to the front porch where, to her surprise, stood Terry looking down the driveway.

"Terry? Who just left on the bike?"

"Oh, good morning," Terry greeted her, turning around. "James," he told her, laughing to himself. "I finally got the thing back together, and well, he wanted to try it."

"Can he ride a motorcycle?" she asked.

"Mostly," he replied, laughing, walking up to join her on the porch. "James and I were up early, cleaning the yard. Finishing up the bike only took an hour or so. You slept in a long time, little lady."

"I needed it," she admitted, smiling. "Can you sit with me for a moment?"

"Sure," he answered and took the spot on the swing beside where she had sat.

"So, is today the day?" she asked.

"Think so. There's no reason to wait, and I've imposed on you poor folks long enough."

"And given me and James more than I ever thought possible. Even after you two came back in, James and I stayed up talking. You were right," she said, smiling at him. "You were so right. I can see it in his eyes; he doesn't love me less — he loves me more. I don't have any idea of how to say thank you."

Terry smiled, a smile she knew she was going to miss. "You just did."

"I still wish there was something I could do, we could both do, to repay you," she added, looking into the fields.

"If you want to repay me for what I've done, then fix your heart upon that wily coyote, and commit your years to bringing one another joy. When you deal with others, be kind. Everyone's crippled in some respect Zig, in some area, and we all could use some mercy and a little grace from time to time."

"Mercy. Grace. They're easy words to say, but what do they really mean?"

Terry's answer was well practiced, and it was clear he had used it many times before. "Justice is getting what you deserve. Mercy is not being punished when you do deserve it. Grace is getting favors and blessings you haven't earned. No matter your calling, no matter your job, you can take care of those around you. Alright?"

Zig thought of those around the studio, including the actor, Jeff, who used to work for her who was now out of a job and looking. "I will, Terry. I will." She leaned over and hugged him in a long, loving way. As she let him go, she looked at him shaking her head and smiling. Here was someone she didn't lust, didn't want, but truly loved — like her sister, like Sabrina.

The noise of the bike drew their attention back to the driveway where James was kicking up the dust on his return. They both stood and watched his somewhat irregular approach. While it was unclear if James had ever ridden a motorcycle before, it was clear this one was giving him a little trouble. Finally, laughing, he parked it in front of them, dropped the kick stand, and stepped off. "You can stay on that thing all day?"

Terry smiled walking down the steps. "Learned skill. You get used to it."

"You going to stay for breakfast?" James asked as he took his place beside Zig Zag.

"Morning's the best time to make time. I'd better hit it," Terry said, taking his jacket and bag off the edge of the railing. "I can't thank you guys enough. You were a real godsend."

"You, too, Terry," James replied, reaching out his paw after the big wolf had put on the jacket. They shook, but soon pulled each other into an embrace. "Take care of yourself, okay man?"

"You too, amigo," Terry said, pulling back, "and take good care of this fine lady. You can live long and travel far and never see anyone so lovely, and so very good hearted."

"Flatterer," Zig accused, but then reached out and hugged him. He kissed her on the cheek, and then stepped over to the bike. With a practiced motion that betrayed no injury, he threw his leg over, popped the kick stand, and cranked the bike. Its strong, bass thumps dominated the landscape around them. They stepped over as he put on his helmet. "Are we ever going to see you again?" Zig asked.

"Never can tell," he answered. "Take care, you two."

"Thanks Terry," James said.

"Thank you, Terry, for everything," Zig added. He touched the front side of his helmet in a kind of salute, and then revved the engine. Slowly, and with far more grace than James had managed, Terry took the bike down the driveway, around the little hill, and out of sight, waving goodbye with a raised arm at the very last moment.

"I'm going to miss him," they both said at the same time, which prompted a quick laugh and a hug.

"I'm going to go to the workshop and make sure there isn't anything he left, while we still might catch him."

"Okay, I'm going to sit on the front porch for awhile," Zig said parting from him.

"Of course." He understood her need to be alone, and now, understood it far better than before. In a few moments, he was opening the door to his workshop. It seemed so empty now. Terry had done a good job cleaning up, but what was more was the loss of the wolf's presence. "I'll miss you … brother." He was about to turn out the light when something unusual on a nearby bench caught his eye. It was something tall, about two feet high, covered with a cloth. Walking over slowly and reaching out, he took the cloth off of the object and just stood there in stunned amazement.

Zig was sitting on the swing, her eyes closed, just enjoying the peacefulness of the morning when she heard James scream her name. "James?" she called back.

"Zig! Come quick! You've got to see this!" She got up and made her way around to the door of the workshop where James was waiting for her. "You'll never guess what that old wolf left for us as a thank you gift!" He took her by the paw and led her into the workshop. He had moved the item to the center worktable and recovered it. Zig looked at him, unsure, and he said, "Go ahead."

As she pulled the cloth off, her jaw dropped open. There, before her, was the most beautiful hand carved and elegantly finished statue of herself and James in a loving embrace, tails circling around each other, with both of them looking content and happy. "Oh, my!" she gasped dumbstruck. She picked up the carving and looked at the words painstakingly imprinted into the wood around its wide, circular base. She read it, her voice breaking. "If this is what it really means to fall in love, then let … me … fall … Bless you both. Terry."

Chapter 5 Sunrise

James, Zig Zag, Doug, and Kelly waited as patiently as they could. The weasel lawyer, representing the investors, sat at the table, his expression stony. They had been called to this after-hours meeting inside the conference room of Sheppard Computer Systems once Aslan had finally folded his cards and sold out. James could still remember the lion's frustrated and sad tone when he called. "Damned sorry, James, but it appears that our association with Marcus has cost us much more than we thought. The Board of Regulations has seen fit to levy some pretty stiff fines against us, and the only way we can absorb them is to sell off assets. I don't know who this new owner is, but he's very intent on having SCS. Again, James, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too," James almost said aloud as he replayed that phone call in his head.

Doug was shuffling uncomfortably in his seat, and although Kelly sat quietly and without seeming discomfort, it irked him to no end that she, pregnant, was being dragged into the middle of this. James and Doug were agreed in this respect, but when the strong suggestion came that they both bring their wives or significant others, both Zig and Kelly had insisted. Still, Doug was on edge, as was James.

The lawyer's phone beeped, and with a practiced motion, he pulled it out. "Yes sir? Yes, sir. Very well." Then, he hung up the phone. All of them looked at him expectantly. "The new owner has requested a change in plans. A limousine is waiting outside for us. We're to take it to the Brandenburg Hotel. That's where he will meet us."

Doug was about to say something, but he felt a set of claws dig into his arm — Kelly's. "Ow!"

The weasel's left eyebrow raised. "Mr. Grantz?"

"Uh, no problem, outside you say?"

"Yes. Right now," the lawyer answered, standing.

Trying not to sound as frustrated as Doug appeared, James stood. "Alright, let's go then."

It was only a few moments later that they were in the limousine. It was a quiet ride; with the lawyer present, no one felt like making small-talk. About ten minutes later, they were pulling into an alley behind the great hotel.

"The alley?" Zig asked, curious.

"The driver has his instructions," the weasel replied flatly. "My client is very careful about both security and secrecy. This is not out of line with what he's done in the past."

"There'd better not be any stairs," Doug grumbled under his breath, looking at Kelly. Again, she looked back at him with a pained expression. Both Zig and Kelly had talked earlier, but Zig was finding that James was taking all of this more in stride. Kelly had been treated to angry tirades, threats to just outright quit, and all manner of other rants before she had calmed Doug down by reminding him that if there was any chance that he could still have a job, she and the baby would be very grateful.

The driver opened the door, and as usual, the lawyer exited first. "Here we go," James said, as he led Zig out. Ahead of them, a small covered awning shaded a door marked "Kitchen, No Admittance." As they stepped forward, a young badger opened the door from the inside as if he knew exactly when they'd arrive. The door opened into a fairly plain hallway. When everyone was inside and the outside door was closed behind them, the badger stepped around and opened a door that led them into a posh waiting room that doubled as an elevator landing.

"Welcome to the VIP entrance of the Brandenburg. We're so glad to have you with us this evening," the badger said. "Let me call the elevator for you. We'll be going to the penthouse conference suite."

Doug and James just looked at each other, as did Kelly and Zig. As the elevator pinged its arrival, the badger stepped inside and announced, "If you would all please board the elevator, we'll be on our way."

The continued presence of the lawyer and the hotel attendant kept any conversation, even a whisper, from happening in the quiet elevator. Zig felt James' paw tighten on hers, and she reached her arm around his waist and squeezed. For the first time that night, James saw Doug smile, as did Kelly. After what felt like the longest elevator ride of their lives, the elevator again pinged, and the door opened. "Your floor. Please, follow me," the badger requested, stepping out ahead of them.

He led them down a beautiful hallway replete with rich, dark wood furnishings. Some of them caught James' eye. "That's an antique, like a really expensive one," James whispered to Zig. Soon, they were brought to a large double door which opened to reveal a long, darkened boardroom.

"My client requests that you be seated here, at this end," the weasel explained. "Once that is done, I am to leave you." They all took their seats at the lit end of the conference table, near the door, only the silhouettes of chairs were visible on the other side. Large glass windows on the far side were the only way they could even see that much. Once they were seated, as promised, the weasel and the badger left them.

"Is this where we're going to meet the new owner?" Doug asked quietly.

"You are meeting him, Mr. Grantz," a deep, male voice answered from the other end of the table. A stunned Doug actually gulped. "Please forgive the theatrics, but it's sometimes required, especially when the deal is as complex as this one has been. Let's start with the most important thing first, shall we? As of tonight, James Sheppard and Doug Grantz are no longer employees of Sheppard Computer Systems." Zig looked at James who closed his eyes tight as if hoping by doing that he wouldn't have to hear anything else. Kelly looked at Doug, and she could tell he was about to do something they would all regret. "They will be … the new owners, in full. There will be no owners besides them — meaning no board, no debt, and no strings attached." Everyone at the far end of the table dropped their jaws at that statement.

A light at the far end of the table cut on, and sitting there smiling, looking as fine cut and sharp has he had looked scruffy and worn, was Terry.

"You have got to be joking!" James exclaimed, standing up, smiling in disbelief. "Terry!?!"

"Forget not to show love unto strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares," Terry stated, smiling broadly.

"This is Terry?" Doug asked looking up at James in disbelief. "Terry wrecked on the highway, staying at your house Terry?"

Terry stood and walked to the end of the table, saying, "Oh yes, Doug Grantz, that's me. I have the faux fur clipped on my tail to prove it. I take it you are Kelly Grantz?" he asked, looking at the bedazzled cougar. "No, don't get up, please. Congratulations, by the way, dear lady. Congratulations to you both. May I?" he asked, pointing at the seat next to her.

"Please," she offered, stunned.

"Now, as none of you have actually passed out from the shock — which is a good thing by the way — I'm sure you have questions. Fire away."

Zig looked him squarely in the eye. "Why did you lie to us?" All of them were as stunned by her question as they had been at Terry's appearance.

"I didn't, actually. I do travel far and wide, but I keep track of my business interests remotely. You see I don't like staying up in the ivory tower any more than I absolutely have to. It ruins your perspective; you've got to get out and meet life, head on, and see as much of it as you can. Now, the accident was actually what it appeared to be. I wasn't lying to you when I said I had nobody around to help me. I don't have any interests in the middle of this continent, and not in Ohio, for sure. Now, you could have just dumped me in any old hospital in town, and that would have been the end of it, but you didn't."

"Did you ever call them, these associates of yours, to let them know where you were?" Zig asked.

"The first time you left, I did and gave them strict orders not to interfere. I learned pretty early on that James is a pretty amazing individual, and Zig, you're likewise. I'll say the Grantz are, too, since I presume James and Zig choose their friends carefully."

"But why did you stay with us?" James wanted to know.

"Hey, you can cook!" Terry offered, smiling broadly. "In truth, though, you both interested me. I wanted to find a way to repay you for your uncommon kindness, so in large part, I stuck around to see what you needed. In the end, I think together, we found some of that out, but then, there was this piece. That's when I called my associates and had them start actively looking at your board. You'll forgive me," Terry said in disgust, leaning backwards, "if I was underwhelmed. James, I think you and Doug are too damned good to work for crooks like that. It only took a few words in the right ears, and your board members' private business sins found themselves a way to get much more public. Marcus just made it doubly easy. Some of those hucksters are going to jail. Hopefully, some of the brighter stars in that circle, Aslan for instance, will learn from their mistakes and keep their businesses clean from now on."

"But how could you actually do this?" Kelly wanted to know. "I mean, it wasn't blackmail was it? It's sounds great, don't mistake what I'm saying, but it sounds too good to be true."

Terry tapped a folder in front of her. "Another reason why I wanted you here tonight, specifically, Kelly Grantz. I know your accounting background, as it is a matter of record, and you're a pair of eyes everyone else will trust. What's in this folder are the details, at least from a legal and financial perspective, that arrange all of this. And, no, it wasn't blackmail. The working definition of blackmail," Terry explained, conspiratorially, "is that you have the goods on someone and you threaten to tell if they don't do what you want. I had the goods on all of these jokers, and then turned them right into the authorities without so much as a warning shot across their bow. Then, as they're about to go down in flames, I offer them a little relief by purchasing one of their best assets to help cover their legal fees and their fines."

"But Terry," Doug wanted to know as Kelly poured through the papers before her. "What do you get out of this?"

"Other than the joy of helping you folks out, not a thing. If I did, it would be a conflict of interest, you see. Also, if I were to use any of my corporate funds for this little benevolent gesture, then that would be embezzlement. However, as the sheet Kelly is now looking at attests to, I'm only using personal funds. Now, I'm just as free to give that money to save the swamp or rescue the rain forest, but I think the Sheppard Grantz foundation seems like a better use of my personal philanthropy budget! Besides, you pulled me off the highway and took me into your home when it was the other guy's fault. You want too good to be true? Now that's too good to be true!"

Kelly was just shaking her head, and James couldn't stand it any longer. "Kel?"

"It's … it's all here! It's all just as he said it was, and it's notarized and everything! You've even got the trust registration forms and the tax gift deferrals on here so James and Doug don't have to pay taxes when they take over the company. James, this is … legit!"

"Are you sure?" Doug asked his wife.

"Doug," she growled impatiently.

"Never mind."

Terry laughed. "Kelly, you can take that with you and start making calls tomorrow for whatever else you need to verify. I've had my folks work real hard on this to make sure everything is square and on the level. If you see any problems, contact my lawyer, and we'll get them resolved straight away."

"That's perfect," she said, "and since these two guys can't get it out of their mouths, thank you very much for all of this." Kelly reached around and hugged his neck.

He laughed again. "You're welcome, dear lady, you're so welcome!"

James and Zig stood, and walked over to him. Terry stood, and James offered, "Thanks Terry, for everything." Terry stretched out his paw, but James reached over and hugged him, causing Terry to laugh happily.

Zig also wanted in, so she hugged both of them, causing James and Terry to laugh. "Come here, you guys," Doug said, grabbing them all in his big arms and giving them a huge hug.

"Whoa!" the three of them said as Doug almost lifted them into the air.

"Douglas Grantz, you put them down right now!" Kelly demanded in mock anger, but she was clearly amused, as well.

They were all laughing by the time Doug actually did. Terry broke in and announced, "Dinner is coming right up, and if you don't mind, I've made arrangements for you to all stay here this evening. You'll find everything you need plus some other gifts in your rooms. I want you to have them. I'm the type that you'll see only once, and then I'm off again. You'll never know when or if I'll show up."

"I hope we do see you again Terry," Zig offered, reaching her paw up to his shoulder.

"Me, too, kid. Me, too. Now, if you don't mind, let me call my lawyer back up so we can get started on the papers. Oh, and I have another surprise for you, too." Terry reached over and pressed a button on his watch. A few seconds later, a somewhat stunned and surprised couple were entering the room.

"Sabrina?" Zig asked incredulously.

"Chris?" James asked as well.

"What are you doing here?" Zig asked.

"Uh, we won a contest, I thought. A movie, dinner in a posh restaurant, and a night in a hotel," Sabrina responded confused. After all, she was a little more finely dressed than the rest of them.

"Well, in truth," Terry said, "you did win a contest, and you've already had the movie. However, for the rest of it, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to do a little work. I need you two to be legal witnesses to a business deal."

"A business deal?" Chris asked, curious.

"Terry has just bought out the board of SCS!" James exclaimed, happily.

"And he's making James and Doug the new owners!" Zig added.

"And as the only group here not involved in the transaction, and because I know you've gotten your notary recently Sabrina," Terry said, "and you are their friends, I thought you would be the perfect witnesses. You up for it?"

Sabrina saw everyone's hopeful expression and looked at Chris, who nodded. "Sure! That's fantastic!" she replied. They all cheered, causing the two recent entries to blush furiously.

As if on cue, the elevator pinged, and waiters rolled in double trays of food and drinks. The young badger that brought them up came in and started opening the curtains, revealing an amazing view of the city. Soft music started playing from the speakers in the ceiling. "Ah, good, my favorite part!" Terry exclaimed, smiling.

"You mean Doug's?" Kelly asked, joking, happily.

"Hey, now," the bear protested.

"Doug, it's alright, I -" Terry started, but his cell phone went off. Pulling it out, he looked at it and sighed, "Just when I was starting to have some fun, too. One second." He pressed the control and raised the phone to his head. "Dee, can you hold one? Good. Ah, here he is," Terry said, motioning to the lawyer who, for the first time since anyone had seen him, was actually wearing a smile. "Can you get them started?"

"Certainly, Mr. Trask. Everyone, we can eat all we want to, but I'm afraid we can't do anything with alcohol until these are fully signed and witnessed."

Terry nodded and stepped out to the balcony as the lawyer began placing thick folders in front of James and Doug.

About ten minutes later, Terry was pacing, obviously having a thick discussion with someone, and Zig, although pleased, felt the need to step away from the legal happenings. "I'll be back in a second," she whispered in James ear. He saw her glance out the door, and he nodded.

Quietly, Zig Zag slipped the door open and walked out onto the balcony. Terry was facing away from her, looking into the starlit sky, silent. Suddenly, he spoke, "Dee, this is not making me happy, as you can guess, but that's not the point. Sure I realize he wants to make amends, and sure I realize he has supporters who want to see him at least try, but if we put him there, then someone's got to watch him. What? Stone's going to?" He seemed to sense Zig's presence behind him, and turned around to look at her and smiled, ushering her over when she motioned the question if she should leave. "Is he going to do this out of an over-developed sense of duty or just for the entertainment value?" He laughed. "Okay, okay, but Dee, this is your assignment. Don't let him foul it up for you! Those folks have a lot riding on us. I know. I know you do. About two days, local time. Okay, I'll drop by. See you then. Thanks Dee."

He smiled and hung up the phone. "Business?" Zig asked.

"Yeah. Dee's a prot�g� of sorts, working her first big assignment doing some fence-mending for me. The one who busted the fences down in the first place wants back in to try and regain some lost good will, or perhaps, some lost prestige. She's willing to entertain the idea, but you can guess what I think."

"What did he do?" Zig Zag asked.

"Killed four innocents in a test flight, a test flight he never should have taken. Now, we've got a serious problem with the locals, and several other huge groups that we're indebted to. So, if this guy was yours, what would you do?"

Zig shook her head. "I don't know, but I'd rake him over for sure if he was mine. Killing four, he should do jail time for that!"

"I'm afraid justice in that particular country doesn't work that way, but what he's been handed is nearly as bad. He was stripped of his position and influence, which were considerable, and sent back home in shame. He's had to stand trial for the offence, publicly. It's not exactly what I hoped for, but it's a start. He wants to do his confinement in country, on kind of a work release thing. Heck, it may do some good, and he'll have to face the families of those he killed. That's a pretty harsh punishment right there," Terry sighed.

"Sounds like a lot to deal with," Zig said quietly.

"Dee's smart. If she sees him screw up, she'll call in the cavalry."

"That would be you?"

"Yep," Terry replied, smiling again. "That would be me. So, what do you think of all this?"

"I'm blown away, Terry, but I'm still upset with you," she said, warningly.

"I know," he agreed, looking away into the night. "We both know that not passing on information when it could be done is half a lie if not a whole one. I apologize, Zig."

Zig leaned on the rail beside him. "Apology accepted. I apologize for how I reacted in there. You didn't lie, and if anyone can understand keeping secrets, I guess I can."

"You don't mind if I also confess that I'm not telling you everything about who I am and what I do for a living as well, and it's more to protect you and everyone else in there than it is to protect me." He looked at her. "You see, that's the thing. I care about you Zig, and James, Doug, Kelly, Sabrina, Chris … even my lawyer," he joked. "You're good folks. You deserve a good shot at making your dreams come true."

Zig sighed. "Dreams," she mused. "James is more than I could of dreamed of, and you were so right about how he reacted when I told him everything. I can't get over how much he cares for me."

"Or you for him," he said to her. "Zig, I hope what I've said to you has helped you, and I think it has." She nodded. "Will you permit two more pieces of advice? Very personal advice? I won't be around to see if you did or didn't take it; I just want to give you something to think about."

Zig tried to relax, and it was admittedly easier as she looked into his gently smiling face. "I don't do so well with that, you know."

"I know, but still …"

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Okay. The worst that happens is that I throw you off the balcony." She cut her eyes at him again, and saw him grinning more broadly. "Of course I don't mean that."

"I know, and I'm not telling you how to live your life. These are things I just wish for you. First, I hope that one day, you'll fully commit to James, and be his wife." The suggestion stunned her, but after a moment of frantic thought, she wrestled herself back down to listening again. He was obviously watching, since he gave her the handful of moments she needed to absorb the statement. "Because of the death of his last wife, it'll be hard for him to ever ask you. To him, it's going to be a heavy subject. I think he'll be too afraid to ask, but I think he would feel so honored if you did, and it would seal you in his heart forever."

It was again, several moments before Zig could bring herself to speak without yelling. "We're happy the way we are," she finally growled.

"Could be happier still," he countered. "Just something to think about. Now for number two. Ready?"

"I don't know," Zig said, gripping the rail hard. "That last one was a doosey."

"You're tough enough for it," he said gently. "Afterwards, you don't have to speak to me again for the rest of the night, or ever again if you don't want to. It won't change anything about what I'm doing tonight for James and Doug, okay?"

"Oh, hell, I can't wait to hear this one!"

"Whatever you and James decide to do about your relationship, I hope you both find something to focus on bigger than just yourselves — a purpose and a way of life you can both believe in. Think about it, maybe even pray about it. Maybe even go to church. It'll take some time to figure out, but in the end, it'll help more than anything."

"Most churches and church people I've met are complete hypocrites!" she whispered angrily. "I never want to be like that!"

"I know. I'm not hoping that you'll do what they do. I'm hoping you'll read up on what they're supposed to be doing, and try that. Not saying anyone's ever perfect at it, but it makes for a happier life, Zig. There, that's the end of my advice. What you do is up to you, as it always is, but I want you to know that whatever you choose, it will never take away from my respect for what you've already done, how brave you are, or how kind you've been." She didn't acknowledge him. He could see that she was incredibly tense, her eyes shut tight, her claws gripping the wooden railing as hard as she could, and her tail was almost perfectly straight.

He turned away, and slowly walked back towards the doors. "Wait, Terry," she bade as he touched the handle. He turned back around, and looked at her. She hadn't moved, but as he stayed still, she added, "Please."

At that, he strode back to her side. He patiently waited while she collected her thoughts. Finally, her tail settled down, her grip loosened, and she took in a deep breath. "Until James, until you showed me how, I've never let anyone all the way inside before. When someone dared mention my personal life, I would shut them down and shut them out." She turned towards him, eyes brilliant, but sad. "What I'm trying to say is that I really stink at this — taking advice. I don't know if I can do what you hope, but … when it comes to James and what might be best for us, I'd do anything." He nodded, silent. "I've got to think about it, a long time, before …"

She paused and looked away, and gently he said, "I understand. I really hesitated suggesting it, because I can see how much your life is changing right now. Take a few breaths, and take your time. Help James and all the rest celebrate what's happening here, tonight. You should enjoy it, too, because you were the catalyst for all of this."

"Me?" she asked him, skeptical.

"My team reviewed the board records up to this point. We know how they treated you, and we also know what Marcus tried. With no Zig Zag, none of this would be happening. Look behind you." She turned, looking back to the conference room. "Excepting my sour-puss lawyer, how do they all look?"

Zig scanned the faces, finally coming to rest on James, who was happy, incredulous with wonder, but amusingly still trying to focus on what the lawyer said. "Happy."

"There was the face that sailed a thousand ships, Queen Cleopatra, Aphrodite, Hera, and Artemis from legends of old, but who can compare with the tiger-striped skunk whose love helped save her friends?"

"No way! I'm a porn queen for crying out loud!"

"Yes way!" Terry retorted. "That may be what you do, but that's not who you are, Zig. You're a great lady, and what you've done has made a difference. Want me to tell you where those jerks on the board were headed? They wanted James out, I mean really wanted him out, and they thought, for sure, Doug would leave with him. Even old Aslan was in on it. So, if you hadn't been riding with James that day, and you hadn't convinced him to pick me up and take me to his house, all of that stuff with the board would have happened. Now, Doug and James are in control of their own destiny, and that's partially thanks to you."

She looked then at Terry in a questioning sort of way, and asked, "What I can't figure out is why, Terry? No one gives away all of this, never expecting anything back. I've lived my whole life dealing with ulterior motives, and trust me, if I thought you had one that would hurt James, I would actually throw you off this balcony. If not, if you actually don't have any other reason for doing this than what you said, you're like the nicest wolf I've ever met, and I owe you. James and I both do. I'm just not sure what's true right now."

Terry nodded and answered, "Look, all of you are only going to realize this is what I say it is after I'm gone. When you live day to day, and you don't find any strings attached, then you'll know. Then, I want you to remember this conversation and just be happy. Don't worry about having doubts; you should. You wouldn't have a good head on your shoulders if you didn't. You have the smarts to be a doctor, a scientist, a programmer, or even … a lawyer," he said, eyes sparkling with humor.

Zig backed away and looked him up and down. "You know, if this business thing doesn't work out for you …" she said, wryly. He just laughed.

"Come here, girl!" Terry bade, arms open. She walked over and gently hugged him.

"In hopes that everything turns out well," Zig Zag said, just before giving him a kiss on the cheek. He whispered a thank you, and then they both turned back towards the door.

"Ahem," James said, having been caught. "Uh, sorry, but your lawyer needs you. Sorry to interrupt."

"Not a problem, James," Terry replied. "Why don't you and Zig enjoy the view?"

Soon, Terry was back inside, and James and Zig were alone on the balcony. "Everything okay?" Zig asked, cautiously.

"I was about to ask you the same thing," he answered, sounding worried. "I saw you at the railing a minute ago. You looked a little tense."

"It's alright," Zig explained, chuckling. "Terry just knows how to force me to think in ways I'm not used to thinking. More importantly, James, does all of this look right?"

"I think so, and Kelly's impressed to the point of giddiness."

Zig raised an eyebrow. "Kelly Grantz is giddy?"

James laughed. "I know, but she says she's never seen such a 'flawless' transaction before! Terry's people have problems covered three or four levels deep. Kelly said that it's like he's built a fort around us and the company. We have flexibility, but if anyone from the old board should contest the measure, they would be batted down in a heartbeat." He reached over and hugged her at the waist. "Oh, Zig, I can't tell you how happy I am tonight! I thought that this was going to be one of the worst nights of my life, and it's turned into one of the best! I owe it all to you! If you hadn't convinced me to take Terry in, none of this would have happened."

She hugged him back. "I love it, but it scares me. Good things like this just don't happen! This silver cloud has to have a black lining somewhere."

"I know. I keep waiting for someone to wake me up and tell me this is all a dream. I'm having a hard time accepting how generous he's being. It's something I'm not used to, either. Why not someone else? Why not someone who's homeless?"

"Because, mi amigo, you're generating taxes and giving jobs to good people who need them," Terry replied, having just returned to the balcony. "Small business owners like you and Doug and Zig here keep things going. Now, I've given to the homeless, and well, I've even helped out the fabulously wealthy from time to time. I don't see anything wrong with covering the middle."

"I guess … I guess we're not used to being on the receiving end," James admitted.

"I know. We all want to go through life without help, without any sort of aid, standing tall on our own, but look at you two. You two need each other like fish need water. Our relationships help define us. What we do for others, defines us. If you want to know why I did this, it's no more complex than that."

"Still, it's a miracle for us, Terry, don't you see that?" Zig asked. "It seems to be too good to be true, and every time in the past something seemed that way, it really was too good to be true."

Terry countered, "Hey, I'm not handing you six million dollars to go spend as you please! I'm not putting you on a yacht, setting you up for life, or buying you a fleet of brand new sports cars, either. I'm giving competent and caring owners charge of a business that they'll have to work very hard in. I'm investing in your community, through you, so make sure my investment pays off."

"Yes, sir," James answered. "We'll do our best."

"Good," Terry said, nodding. "Now, if you two would like to join us, the paperwork is all done, so we can truly just sit back and have a good time."

###

Hours later, blissfully entwined with James in their hotel suite's luxurious bed, Zig showed her coyote how much she loved him, appreciated him, and truly wanted him. Sitting atop his enraptured frame, each moment pulsed not only with pleasure, but with the echoes of conversations and questions from the days prior that had brought them here. Finally, as the height of her ecstasy drew near, Terry's words filled her thoughts in the form of a question. "Do you fully commit to James, to be his wife?"

As her soul ripped open with joy and bliss, Zig Zag — the tiger skunk, the abused child, the molested teen, the failed actress, the porn star, the ravenous nymphomaniac, the clever entrepreneur, the emotional cripple, the dating failure, the guarded friend, the redeemed lover … the full and complete woman looked to the heavens and promised aloud … "I do!"

The End

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2010 Contributed Stories

2009 Contributed Stories

2005 Contributed Stories

2004 Contributed Stories

Other Information

Zig Zag and James: Dimensions of Love

Chapter 1 An Unwelcome Guest

Chapter 2 Settling In

Chapter 3 First Steps

Chapter 4 Of Storms and Demons

Chapter 5 Sunrise

The End