That Day, Part 2: The Day After

And so, I met Oliver, and my life was changed, sent in a different direction. It would take time for me to fully realise just how much he was going to change my life. But right then, sitting in a hospital room, smiling at my badger for the first time, I had no idea.

It was him who broke the silence first. “Thank you.” His voice was dry and hoarse, but  I could still hear the emotion in his words.

I stood up and approached his bed, so that he could lay back down and still see me. Without thinking, I place a reassuring paw on his arm. “You're welcome, Oliver. Glad I could help.”

He frowns at me, looking puzzled. I figure out why and answer him before he asks. “Yeah, I know your name. I found your wallet back in the alleyway.” It's only then that it dawns on me that he doesn't know mine. “Oh and by the way, I'm Harvey. Harvey Kemp.”

And then that wonderfully warm smile is once again spreading across his muzzle. He reaches out weakly with his unbroken arm, extending his paw towards me. “Pleased to meet you.” He says.

I take it and shake gently. “Pleased to meet you too.” With him smiling at me like that, I can't stop a similar smile appearing on my own face, even if I wanted to.

The badger then lies back, eyes closing momentarily and sighing, his smile dimming a little. He looks exhausted, reminding me of how tired I am myself. I've done what I came here to do, made sure he's going to be okay.

“I should leave you to get some rest.” I tell him. “I just... I just wanted to be sure you were OK.”

He nods tiredly, still smiling appreciatively as I head for the door. As my paw touches the door handle, I hesitate and I can't believe what I'm about to say. “Maybe...” I falter for a second, but then carry on. “Maybe I could stop by tomorrow, check in on you? If that's OK with you...?”

I feel stupid as soon as the words are out of my muzzle. Of course he's not going to want me hanging around, he needs to relax and recover, not be visited constantly by some stranger. Because that's what I am. I may have saved his life, but he doesn't know me, he doesn't.. 

But I turn to look at him and see he's looking at me. Is his smile wider than it was before? I can't tell. Our eyes meet. Damn, those greyish blue eyes of his really are wonderful...

“I'd like that.” He says.

My heart skips a beat. “I'll see you tomorrow then.” I tell him, and then leave him to rest.

There's a strange spring in my step as I make my way out of the hospital. I take a moment to let the medical staff know Oliver is awake as I go. And then it's back to my car and back to my apartment.

It's only when I reach home that everything catches up with me and I'm overcome with exhaustion. I barely manage to strip off my blood-stained shirt and toss it aside before collapsing into bed. I'm asleep within seconds.

The following morning, I'm woken up by the sound of my phone, the bleeping ring cutting through my slumber and yanking me back to wakefulness.

Half asleep, I swipe clumsily at the phone beside my bed. It's only on the fourth attempt that my paw manages to grab it and I pull it to my ear. “Hello?” I croak, my throat dry.

“Harvey? That you? Are you OK?”

My brain is still a little fuzzy, not completely awake. It takes me a second to place the voice. “Chuck? Yeah, I'm fine,why...?”

Then I notice the time on my alarm clock. Shit! I was supposed to be at work more than an hour ago!

“You're late for work, kid.” Chuck is saying. “And you're never late for work...”

I'm hit by a swell of guilt. “I'm so sorry, Chuck...” I reply. “It was... kind of a crazy night last night. I'll be there as soon as possible.”

“Hey, it's okay, Harv.” Chuck's voice is soothing. “Was just a little worried. No need to rush. Get here when you can.”

Despite Chuck's reassurances, I still feel crappy about being late. As soon as he hangs up, I'm rushing to get ready for work. I shower quickly, scrubbing my fur clean as fast as I feel I can get away with. I make a quick breakfast of toast and coffee.

As I'm getting dressed, pulling on my work overalls, the faint hint of dried blood reaches my nostrils. Looking over my shoulder, I notice the blood stained shirt from last night lying on the bedroom floor, and I think of Oliver. I think of how I'm going to pay him a visit later. And just like that, I'm feeling better about the day.

By the time I arrive at the garage, I'm about two and a half hours late. Chuck doesn't seem to mind, expression and scent telling me he's more concerned than annoyed. I assure him I'm fine and get to work.

But work is... not as fulfilling as it was yesterday. It's slow going and I have trouble focusing, I keep letting myself get distracted by other thoughts. Thoughts of Oliver.

I keep telling myself it's crazy, I'm being stupid. Yeah, I saved him and all, but that's all, I don't really know anything about him.

But I want to know, that's the point. I want to learn more about him, get to know him. It's why I asked if it was okay to visit him again, if I'm honest with myself, I had this hope that we could talk more, get to know each other better...

I'd like that.

I hear his words in my head and smile. Maybe he wants to know me better too. Or maybe he's just humouring me out of gratitude. I really don't know.

And when it comes right down to it, I don't know why I so badly want to know him better. There's no denying how helping him made me feel, that big surge of emotion and self-realization that hit me afterwards. I still haven't fully processed that yet, figured out what it means for me and my future, it all feels very nebulous and uncertain.

But Oliver... he's real and solid and right now. I feel... damn, I don't know. I'm not good at this emotional crap. It's just I think of that badger and I just feel some kind of connection. I feel sort of protective of him somehow.

And I know how crazy it sounds, I keep telling myself how crazy it is. And yet my feelings don't change. They are what they are and...

“You seem to be working a little slow today, kid.”

I jump as the voice interrupts my train of thought, taking me by surprise. At that moment, I'm leaning into an engine, so when I jump, I slam my head into the underside of the hood. I yelp in pain, and step back from the car I've been working on, rubbing my head.

Chuck is standing there in his usual old faded blue overalls, covered in old stains, watching me, looking amused. He's holding two mugs of coffee. Damn, I must really be distracted today. I didn't hear him approach and with my head inside the engine my nose had been too filled with the smell of oil and metal that I didn't pick up on his distinctive scent, a mix of feline musk, engine grease and cigars. The smell of the strong coffee is welcoming. I could use some caffeine right now.

“Thought you could use a coffee break.” He hands me one of the mugs. I take it gratefully and gulp down a sip.

The stocky old cougar leans against the car. “So, why don't you tell me about this crazy night that has my hardest working mechanic so unfocused today?” He sips at his coffee, glaring at me.

I let out a sigh. “It's just...” I lean against the car beside him, trying to figure out exactly what to tell him. “I sort of saved a guy's life last night.”

His mug pauses halfway to his muzzle. He raises an interested eyebrow but doesn't say anything, waiting for me to continue.

I give him an abbreviated version of the events of the previous night between sips of coffee. I was out for a drink, spotted some guys following someone, checked it out and interrupted them attacking him. I was back home late after going to the hospital to make sure he was going to be OK. I leave out a lot of the fine details, like all the emotional stuff. He doesn't need to know that.

By the time I'm done, we've finished our coffee. “Damn, that sounds like one hell of a night. But...” He puts a paw on my shoulder. “Good on ya, Harv. That was a damn brave thing you did. I'm proud of you.”

I can't help but smile at him. “Thanks.”

He looks me in the eye, coming over all serious, and adds. “And trust me when I say your dad would be proud of you too.”

That gets to me, much more than I thought it would. I look away from him to hide the emotion that crosses my face and force back the lump in my throat. I manage to choke out. “Thanks.” I even manage it without too much of that emotion creeping in to my voice.

Chuck, being the guy he is, seems to sense I need a moment. He plucks the empty coffee mug from my paw and turns to leave. “I'll let you get back to work.”

As he goes, I take a few deep breaths, getting myself back under control. A few seconds later, he's turning back to me.

“Hey,” he says. “Why don't you head home a few hours early tonight? I think you've earned it...”

While I appreciate his offer, I'm automatically against it. “I can't do that, Chuck, not after turning up late...” I had actually been planning to stay on a few extra hours, make up for the time I missed.

“I mean it, Harv. It'll be OK.”

“Chuck, I...”

“Harvey.” The cougar's voice is suddenly sharp. I know that tone. It's his 'don't even think about arguing with me' tone. I usually only hear it when I'm sick and try to turn up to work anyway and he has to send me home to rest.

I know better than to try and argue with him. “Okay, okay.” I mutter and turn back to the car that won't fix itself.

The day goes on and I forget about leaving early. Chuck, on the other hand, has no such memory problems and comes by to remind me. I try protesting again, but its useless and so I'm leaving work several hours earlier than I was expecting.

I head home and collapse on my couch, relaxing in the familiar scents of my home, trying to decide what to do with this extra free time. There is a temptation then and there to head off and visit Oliver, but a part of me feels like rushing off to see him first chance I get is a bit too 'creepy stalker' for my liking. I have plenty of time to see him later.

There is one thing I can do. I pull out my phone and dial Marcus. He's going to want to talk to me later, so I decide to get it out of the way with now.

He picks up and sounds cheerful to receive a call from me. “Hey there, Harv!”

Often times, I can find his cheerfulness a little annoying, but today I'm in a good mood and actually find it infectious. “Hey Marcus.” I say with a smile on my muzzle. “Just thought I'd give you a call. I know you'll want to know about last night...”

He interrupts me. “So, do I get to meet him?”

“Wait, what?” I splutter, confused. How did he know about...

His laughter cuts off that thought. “Oh please, Harvey, I know you too well. If last night went badly, I'd have had to call you and drag the story out of you. But you've called me, sounding happy. To me, that says last night went well, which probably means you met someone. Is he cute?”

“He's...” I stop myself from finishing that thought. “It's not like that. Last night... it didn't quite go according to plan.”

“Oh?” He prompts, sounding confused.

“I didn't make it into the bar.” I explain. “I got as far as the door, but...” I pause, collecting my thoughts. How much should I tell him?

“Harvey... you didn't chicken out did you?” The raccoon on the phone sounds disappointed.

“No!” I protest, and proceed to explain what happened, from spotting Oliver, right through to ending up at the hospital making sure he was alright. As with Chuck, I leave out the emotional stuff. As much as I love and trust my friend, telling him about that would result in this call becoming a session of psycho-analysis, with him wanting to help me figure it all out. We'd probably be at it half the night, knowing him. That's not a conversation I want to get into.

He's silent for a few seconds after I'm done before reacting. “Wow, that's... that's impressive, Harv. And yeah, saving a guy's life is a pretty good excuse for not going into a bar.”

“Glad you think so...” I chuckle.

“Hey, how about we go grab a few beers tonight?” He suggests. “On me. A treat for my buddy the hero.”

I falter for a second, unsure how to tell him I already have plans. Fuck it, just be honest.

“Some other time. I'm going back to the hospital again tonight. I'm going to visit Oliver again.”

“Really?” Marcus seems surprised at this.

“Yeah.”

“But you said you already found out he's going to be OK...”

“I did.” I say. “But I'm going to pay him another visit. I told him I would.”

Marcus is strangely silent. In my head, I'm imagining him sitting there on the phone, that strange thoughtful expression of his that I know so well on his face.

But his silence is dragging on. He's never usually this quiet. “What is it?” I ask.

“Nothing.” He sighs. “Just... be careful, Harv, OK?”

Now I'm confused. “Careful? What are you talking about?”

“You're feeling good because you saved this guy.” He explains. “He's going to be feeling very grateful to you for saving him. Be careful you don't read too much into things, see feelings that aren't really there. It could lead to hurt on both sides.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

He lets out a short laugh. “Lie to yourself if you like, my dear Harvey, but this is me you're talking to. I can hear it in your voice. You like this guy, this Oliver...”

“I hardly know him!” I protest.

“Which is why you're visiting him again, right? You want to get to know him better...”

There are times when he's so damn perceptive it can be downright annoying. “Marcus...”

He cuts me off. “I'm not saying you shouldn't, Harv. I'm just saying be careful, don't go too far too fast.”

“I'll be fine, Marcus.” I assure him.

“Hmm.” He sounds unsure, but is thankfully unwilling to push the matter any further. “OK, but whatever happens, I'm here if you need to talk about it...”

We talk a little longer, about his job, his life, the latest in his current string of one stands, some young stallion he picked up at one of those horribly noisy gay clubs he likes that I always hated. Eventually, we bid each other goodnight and he hangs up.

I sit then staring at the phone, my thoughts worried, unable to shake what he was saying about me and Oliver.

Am I just setting myself up for a fall, reading his gratitude as possible interest? I have to admit it's a possibility. In which case, it could cause a lot of hurt on both sides. I don't want that.

And yet... and yet I can't help feel that's not going to happen. Some part of me is absolutely certain. Besides, there's no harm in just visiting him and talking to him, is there? I push aside my worries and focus on that thought.

After a bite to eat and a quick shower, I get dressed, pulling on a casual black shirt and jeans and then I'm out the door, headed for the hospital.

I'm feeling good as I walk into the building, making my way through the maze of corridors towards Oliver's room. I feel my heart beat faster in anticipation as I get closer. I reach the door and open it,a smile on my muzzle. The smile quickly fades as I find that he's not alone.

There are two uniformed police officers in the room, standing by the bed. Oliver is in bed, sitting up, looking a hell of a lot better and brighter than he did last night. They all look at me as I enter. Oliver smiles at me. The officers don't.

“Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude...” I apologise.

“Hi, Harvey!” Oliver says, beaming at me.

“Harvey?” One of the officers, a tall thin husky, is consulting his notebook. “Harvey Kemp?”

I nod. “Yes, that's me.”

The husky glances at his partner, a young looking athletic lion. “The guy who interrupted the attack.”

I realise these guys must be here handling the case, they must be here for Oliver's statement. Which leads me to wonder. “Where's Ryan? He answered the call last night...”

“Took himself off the case.” The husky explains. “Being a friend of someone involved, he thought it might be a conflict of interest. I'm Officer Philips and this is Officer Simmons.”

I glance at the lion and find him staring at me with a hard frown, a hint of dislike in his scent. And it hits me. He knows. I've never met him before, but I always imagined stories still get told about me after what happened. He must have heard about me from some of my former colleagues at the station. He probably even believed them.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Kemp?” The lion demands.

“I just came to visit Oliver here.” I tell him. “I wanted to check in on him, see how he's doing.”

Simmons looks about to ask something further, but Philips speaks first. “That's fine, Mr. Kemp, but we're in the middle of interviewing Mr. Reynolds about the attack...”

“Sure, I understand.” I nod, avoiding Simmons' icy glare. Instead, I flash a smile at Oliver. “I'll wait outside until you're done.”

I step out into the corridor closing the door behind me. I let out a deep breath and sag against the opposite wall, remembering the way the lion looked at me. Fucking great. Nothing like a full on reminder of all that crap from four years ago to wreck the good mood I was in...

There is a temptation to just go, avoid having to face that guy again. But the thought of that smile Oliver gave me when I walked in stops me. I end up pacing up and down, trying to work off some of the tension I now feel. A few passing hospital staff give me looks as they pass, but no one says anything to me.

About fifteen minutes later, the officers exit Oliver's room, apparently finished. Philips tells me they'll be in touch tomorrow about my official statement about the incident. Thankfully, Simmons doesn't say a word, but does glare at me as if I were something nasty he'd stepped in.

As they leave, I take a deep breath, forcing myself to relax, before stepping inside.

Oliver grins broadly at me as I enter and close the door.

I can't help but smile back at him as I walk over to the bed and shake him by the paw. “Hey, Oliver. You're looking better today. How are you feeling?”

The badger shrugs. “As well as I can be, I suppose. Still a few aches, the stomach wound itches and stings a bit if I make any sudden moves.” He twitches his nose. “Sense of smell is a little screwed up, which I just can't get used to. But the doctor said it should get better once the bruises fade and the swelling in my muzzle goes down.”

“Well,” I say, “it could have been worse.”

He nods. “Yeah, a lot worse... thanks again, for you know, saving me and everything...”

“And again, you're welcome.” I tell him.

I drag the chair beside his bed around so that I'm able to sit down and face him. He's looking at me thoughtfully.

“So, are you a cop?” He asks suddenly.

The question catches me off guard. That part of my old life is not something I really want to talk about so fumble for a suitable answer.

“You're friends with the officer who answered the call last night.” He elaborates. “And I could swear that lion, officer Simmons, he knew you. And doesn't like you. So...”

“I used to be a cop. But I'm not anymore.” I explain. I know the next question will be why, so I quickly try to change the subject. “What about you? What do you do for a living?”

He has that cute thoughtful look again before answering. “Nothing special. Accountancy clerk.”

I pick up on the edge in his voice as he says it. “You don't like it?”

He shakes his head slowly. “Nah. It's good for the money, but nothing else.”

“So maybe consider finding another job?” I suggest.

“I take a look now and again.” He shrugs. “Never find anything. Ideally, I'd like to...” He suddenly trails off.

“Like to what?”

“It's... it's nothing, just some silly cub-hood dream...” He seems uncomfortable talking about it, frowning, so I don't push it and stay silent.

Now it's Oliver's turn to suddenly change the subject. “If you don't mind me asking, how did you come to be there at that alleyway in order to save me?”

“I happened to see you coming out of the Rainbow Lounge.” I explain. “Saw what looked like some guys following you. Thought I should check it out and...”

I suddenly notice Oliver's is looking a little pale. Was it something I said.?

“You... you saw me coming out of...” He stammers, nervousness radiating off him.

Then it dawns on me. I tend to be pretty relaxed and casual about my sexuality, but that's not necessarily going to be true for everyone. “Yeah. Let me guess. Still in the closet?”

He nods silently, worry washing across his features.

“It's okay, buddy.” I lean forward, placing a reassuring paw on his arm. “I won't tell anyone. You can trust me.”

I'm happy to see it when he looks relieved and even manages a weak smile. I add. “If it helps,the only reason I saw you coming out of that place is because I was about to head in there myself...”

He looks up at me sharply. “Really? So you're...”

“Yeah. I'm gay.” I notice how he flinches slightly when I say 'gay' out loud. Yeah, he's very much in the closet alright.

“And the Rainbow Lounge is the kind of place you like to hang out?” He asks. He's staring at me curiously.

“Hell no!” I laugh. “A friend talked me into going to a bar to try and meet some new people. I picked a place I knew I wouldn't like so that I'd be able tell him I didn't like it and he'd stop bugging me...”

The badger is looking at me strangely. I wonder if I've offended him. For all I know, the Rainbow Lounge could be his favourite place.

“That is, I'm sure it's OK for some.” I find myself hastily adding. “It's just all that heavy drinking and dancing and wild music, its not for me. Whenever I'm in a place like that, I just end up feeling...”

“Out of place.” He finishes for me, his voice calm.

I'm a little taken aback. Those were the exact words I'd been about to say. “Yeah, like I just...”

“Don't belong there?”

He did it again. Took the words right out of my mouth. I laugh. “Are you psychic or something?”

He laughs with me. “Not quite. I just... feel the same way.”

Its only then that I remember how unhappy he looked the night before, when he was leaving the bar.  And I find the fact that we have some similar tastes rather comforting.

I grasp about for something to talk about. I'm enjoying talking to him and don't want to stop now. “Have you had many visitors yet?”

His face darkens, making my heart sink. “Just you.” He says.

My heart breaks at the saddened expression that crosses his face. “No friends or family?”

“There's...” He seems to be about to say something, but changes his mind. “No. No family.” He sighs. “And friends? I have some, but none anywhere near here. They're mainly online kind of friends.”

“What about the people you work with? Surely...”

“None of them are really friends, just co-workers. I don't even have any of their numbers, even if I wanted to call them.” I watch sadly as Oliver lies back, staring at the ceiling. “I called the office and left a message about what's happened. But there'll be no one there until Monday morning.”

He looks so damn lonely and dejected, I very nearly grab him and hug him. I want so badly to make him feel better. But I feel like a hug would be inappropriate, so I restrain myself. Maybe something else...

I reach out and take his nearest paw in mine, giving it a gentle reassuring squeeze. “Hey.” He looks at me as I speak. “I guess that means I'll have to keep coming back here to keep you company.”

And his smile is suddenly back, his wonderful eyes full of appreciation and emotion. The explosion of warmth in my chest forces a huge grin onto my muzzle. That moment right there is a memory I will always treasure.

“When I get out of here, I'm going to take you out to dinner.” He says, suddenly breaking the warm silence.

That takes me by surprise. I sit back in my chair. “You want to take me out on a date?”

He chuckles. “More sort of me wanting to thank my hero for saving me. If you want to have dinner with me, that is...” The edge of eagerness in his voice and the hint of it in his scent is so adorable.

“Sure, I do!” I laugh. “Dinner with a cute badger sounds like fun!”

He raises an eyebrow in surprise. ”You think I'm cute?”

“Well, I...” I falter for how exactly to respond. Before I come up with anything though, we're interrupted.

The door suddenly opens and a badger steps into the room. He's short and a bit stocky, wearing a cheap suit that smells old and worn. I'm struck by how much he looks and smells like Oliver, but older. He has the same slight curve of the muzzle and jawline, the same little tufts of fur at the tips of his ears, the same musk in his scent. He even has the same greyish blue eyes, but they seem duller than Oliver's. His face is also more lined and wrinkled, with hints of grey in his fur. He stands in there in the doorway, looking sort of smug...

Obviously, a relative. His father probably. But Oliver said no family...

I turn to ask him about this new arrival, and almost recoil in shock when I see him.

His entire stance and expression are suddenly so different, it's almost frightening. He's shoulders are   hunched, his entire body tensing up. His paws have curled up into tight fists. His fur is bristling, ears flattened. All traces of warmth and pleasantness in his face are gone, replaced by raw emotion. Cold, hard anger, mixed with a healthy dose of hate. It's practically radiating off him. His scent betrays a trace of fear as well. I'm stunned into silence by this transformation in him.

He snarls viciously, baring his teeth, eyes locked on the badger at the door. “Get the fuck out of here!”

The badger at the door simply chuckles. “What? Can't a father visit his abomination of a son when he's been hospitalized?”

Well, at least that confirms he's Oliver's father. But I'm staggered by his attitude and words, unsure what to say...

“I said, get the fuck out!” Oliver is growling, his voice crackling with fury, his body cringing and agitated, tension building in him. “I don't want you here!”

His father stands his ground, simply folding his arms and smiling, actually bloody smiling, at his injured son in a hospital bed. He's almost daring Oliver to get out of bed and make him leave. “Still the same I see, Ollie.” He smirks. “The pouty little pervert...”

That's the point where I've had enough and snap, the point where I know without a shadow of a doubt that I hate this guy's fucking guts. More than that, he's upsetting Oliver and that's setting off all kinds of overpowering protective instincts in me. Instincts that I embrace wholeheartedly, letting them guide me.

I'm out of my chair and stomping towards Oliver's father, a deep rumbling growl building in my chest. I find I'm flexing my claws and in my heart I know I will use them without hesitation if I have to...

I position myself between Oliver and his father, blocking their view of each other. I tower over the older badger, glowering down at him. He meets my gaze. There's a hint of fear in his defiant eyes. Good.

“You need to leave.” I rumble, allowing the full force of my hatred of him to come out in my voice. “Right now!”

He backs up a step, fear creeping into his stance. And yet, he remains defiant. “And who the hell are you supposed to be? My queer son's latest cocksucker boyfriend?”

I'm about to respond when a hiss of pain reaches my ears. I glance back over my shoulder to see Oliver hunched over, grimacing, teeth gritted, eyes screwed up. His paws are clutching at his stomach, where he was stabbed.

At that moment, I come so close to hitting the older badger. I only just about manage to reign in that impulse. Instead I look at him fiercely, staring him down, pouring every ounce of threat and menace I can muster into my voice as I growl. “LEAVE! NOW!”

He cowers back, sneers at me with disgust and finally departs, striding out of the room in a hurry.

“Harvey?” Oliver's voice is weak, quavering with fear.

I spin around, concerned, to find he's staring down at himself. There's a growing bloodstain soaking through his hospital gown.

“Could you please get some help?” The pain in the badger's voice is horrible.

I'm immediately out the door, calling for help, grabbing the first doctor I can find. Before long, the doctor and a couple of nurses are crowding around Oliver, working on his injury. They ask me to step outside while they work.

Out in the corridor, I'm pacing up and down, seething with anger at Oliver's father and filled with concern for Oliver.

I'm glad the older badger has gone. Partly for Oliver, and partly because if he were still there right then, I wouldn't have been able to stop myself beating the son-of-a-bitch's head in...

* * * * * * * * * *

Fuck my father.

Fuck him and his smug, self-righteous, bigoted attitude. He must really have loved seeing me here, lying in this hospital bed.

Because to him, it proves him right. It proves what he always said, what he would always repeat over and over every time he would try to beat the homosexuality out of me. Being gay would lead me into nothing but trouble, it would eventually be the death of me.

The thought of that bastard being right about anything grates on me, but there remains a small nagging part of me that wonders of he was right all along. After all, I was attacked and almost killed for being gay.

I curse at myself and push away that thought. I will not let him get to me. Not again.

I'm not even sure exactly how he knew I was here. Did the police contact him? Maybe he's still down as my next of kin on some medical form somewhere? I make a mental note to look into it. I don't want him turning up should I end up in hospital again for some reason.

Shifting slightly in my bed, I'm treated to a brief sting of pain from my stomach wound, with its fresh stitches. I tensed up so much when dad was here I managed to pop my stitches and start it bleeding profusely again. It's now been stitched up and re-bandaged and I got a stern lecture from the doctor about the necessity of resting and relaxing while I heal.

Trust dad to turn up at exactly the wrong time. It's like some bizarre talent he has. Like the time he paid me a surprise visit the first time me and Mike were going to spend the night together. Or when Justin was moving in with me. And now, right when I'm talking to the first nice guy to show interest in me in months.

Speaking of which, where is Harvey? The doctor told him to wait outside while he worked on patching me up again. But the doctor finished and left me alone about twenty minutes ago and the bear is nowhere to be seen. Where could he...

Oh crap. The thought hits me that maybe I freaked him out with my reaction to dad. Maybe he thought it best if he just left?

Another victory for my asshole of a father then. A nice guy seems to be interested in me, so he shows up, brings out my crazy side, which then scares the guy off. Way to go, dad.

I lie back, heart sinking, cold loneliness creeping over me.

It had probably been too good to be true anyway, I try to tell myself. What could I possibly offer a nice confident guy like Harvey? In all honesty, Harvey could do a lot better than a guy like me...

But then my thoughts drift back to dad's brief visit, replaying the event. Harvey didn't seem particularly freaked out. In fact, he was rather magnificent, the way he leapt to my defence, chasing off my father, being my hero yet again...

But then where is he?

I chide myself for being so crazy. I just met him, he's a nice guy and all, but I hardly know him. It's just so ridiculous to be thinking about him so much, and worrying what he might be thinking about me.

But being around him, I just feel so relaxed, so comfortable, more than I have with anyone on a long time. I mean, hell, I very nearly told him about my cub-hood dream of being an actor, and I never tell anyone about that. I hadn't even told Justin about it, and he was the most serious, longest relationship I've ever had.

Of course, there's a good reason I don't talk to anyone about that dream. It's just too painful to think about how I'd had to abandon it after I came out to dad and life at home became a living hell, resulting in me grabbing the first paying job I could get so I could move the fuck out of his house as soon as possible...

I kick myself for letting my thoughts drift back to my father. I clamp down on that and focus my thoughts back on Harvey and how ridiculous it is for me to be thinking about him the way I am...

There's no denying I wouldn't still be breathing right now if not for Harvey, and I feel an immense amount of gratitude to him for that. Could this just be me taking that too far, seeing interest when he's just being friendly? Could my long standing loneliness be leading me to see something that's not there?

Letting out a deep sigh, I have to admit it's not just a possibility, but highly likely. After all, Harvey isn't here...

Displaying one hell of a sense of timing, Harvey walks back into the room at that moment, taking me by surprise. He walks over to the side of my bed, puts a paw on mine and looks at me, concerned. “How are you feeling? You OK?”

It takes me a moment to pull myself together enough to respond. He came back. I can hardly believe it. “I... I'm fine.” His concern for me, his paw on mine, suddenly makes me feel so much better. “Just a few popped stitches. It's all fixed up now. New stitches, new bandages and a fresh hospital gown.”

He nods, looking relieved. “Glad to hear that. Do you... do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?”

“The thing with you're father.”

That's one thing I definitely do not want to talk about. “No.” I say more sharply than I would like. I can't help it.

“You sure?” He asks. “Because I don't mind...”

I cut him off, the words of a curt reply slipping out before I can stop them. “Do you want to talk about why you're not a police officer anymore?”

He recoils a little, eyes wide in surprise. He probably thought, or hoped, I didn't notice him suddenly changing the subject earlier when the topic of his past came up. But I did.

Immediately, I regret saying it, because now he's taking back his paw and there's this horrible dark look crossing his face like I've upset him or something. I feel awash with guilt for making him feel bad. “I'm sorry... I didn't...”

He shrugs and holds up a paw silencing me. “No, no, it's OK. I guess everyone has crap in their lives they'd rather not talk about. I understand.”

While his understanding is welcome, I feel the need to say something more. “I... I'd rather just put him out of my mind right now.”

Harvey smiles at me, patting me on the arm. “Okay then.” He suddenly holds up his other paw to show me he's holding a white envelope. He passes it to me.

“What's this?” I hold the envelope curiously.

“This is why I was gone for a bit. It's something I wanted to go get.” He grins warmly. “Go on, open it.”

Intrigued, I open the envelope and pull out what's inside. It's a card. On the front is a cartoon teddy bear, one paw bandaged and in a sling, the other giving a thumbs up. Underneath in big bold red lettering are the words 'GET WELL SOON.' I can't help but smile.

Flipping it open, I see Harvey has written a short message inside, underneath the standard printed platitude.

Hang in there, Oliver.

Don't let anything or anyone get to you. Stay strong and focus on getting better.

After all, I'm looking forward to a date with a cute badger!

Your Friend

Harvey

I am at a loss for words, unable to do anything beyond sit there clutching the card, staring at the message. It's just so sweet and touching and unexpected a gesture from the bear, I'm not sure what to do or say next. A whole mess of emotion is swelling up within me. 

“Sorry I was gone so long.” Harvey is saying, apologising. “It took me a bit longer than I thought to find somewhere near here where I could buy a card...”

I really am just utterly dumbstruck. But I know I have to do something, say something. I let instinct take over. I put the card aside and reach out to grab his arm, pulling him closer. The bear looks surprised but doesn't resist as I pull him into a hug, wrapping my arms as best I can around his large frame, taking care with the one still in a cast. He seems a bit stiff at first, but after a second, he relaxes into it, putting his arms around me and hugging me back.

That was our first ever hug and it felt good. Very good. Heart pounding in my chest, feeling warm, alive and joyous kind of good. A hug I would always remember.

Of course, while we were hugging, Harvey couldn't see the emotion, the relief and joy, crossing my face, see me choking it back, scrunching up my eyes to force back happy tears. I'm kind of glad about that. He's already seen a flash of my crazy side when dad showed up, but I don't want to seem too crazy, give away how attached I feel to him so soon after meeting him.

When I feel ready to show my face again, I pull out of the hug, to find another of those wonderful wide and warm grins of his plastered across Harvey's muzzle. “Thank you.” I tell him.

He simply shrugs, dismissively waving a paw. “It's nothing. Everyone in hospital should have at least one get well card.”

The fact that he seems completely unaware just how touching a gesture the card is, just makes me love it all the more.

I reach over and set stand the card on the night stand beside my bed. It takes an effort to pull my eyes off it and turn back to Harvey. “I love it.” I say. “Seriously, thank you.”

The bear looks slightly embarrassed at that, but is also still smiling. Damn, it just makes him so fucking adorable.

He sits down again and we continue talking. He tells me all about his job as a mechanic, working for a friend of his dad's. He seems to like it, although from what I can tell, he seems to spend much of his time there working long hours. The only thing he seems to do beyond work is go to the gym regularly. I make a comment about how I'd already guessed that from his impressive body and he does that adorable 'embarrassed yet smiling' thing again.

The whole time, I'm trying to figure him out. He seems to be a workaholic and a gym rat, but I can't seem to get anything about him beyond that. Is that all the really is to him? I doubt it, but he doesn't seem willing to share anything more just yet.

I do desperately want to ask about his life as a cop, find out what the story there is, but since its clear its something he doesn't want to talk about, I choose to respect his privacy and quash that desire. After all, he respected mine about my dad.

The conversation turns to me, and I fill him in on the utterly uninteresting world of accountancy. I tell him about my job, my office and my co-workers. He takes it all in, asking the odd question. He manages to seem interested, but I'm sure it isn't. Hell, I work there, and I don't find it interesting.

He does however, frown as I talk about Frank, and in particular, the kind of things he says. “Huh.” He says, looking thoughtful.

“What?” I ask. He seems to have something on his mind.

He pauses, as if uncertain he should say anything. “It's just... you let him get away with spouting that homophobic crap?”

He seems almost... sort of disappointed in me. I feel the need to defend myself. “He's my manager, my superior. Plus, he's rather bigger than me. What am I supposed to do?”

“Stand up to him?” Harvey suggests. “Ask him to cut it out?”

“I don't have that kind of confidence.” I say, even though I know how feeble and pathetic it sounds. “I'm not strong enough to do something like that.”

At this, Harvey's expression becomes very stern and serious. “Not strong enough? Really?”

I can only nod in reply.

The bear leans forward, fixing his eyes on mine. “Listen to me. Last night, you survived an attack that would have killed most people. And here you are barely twenty four hours later, sitting up in bed, smiling and chatting...”

“That's mainly due to you being here to give me someone to smile at and chat with.” I say. That is true. Without Harvey there, I would likely be curled up in bed feeling miserable about my situation.

A brief smile crosses the bear's face, before he becomes serious again. “I mean it. You survived last night. And I'm sorry to bring him up, but you've survived whatever that father of yours has thrown at you in your life. I admit I don't know the details, but I imagine it can't have been pleasant...”

The mention of my father puts me slightly on edge, but I don't say anything, allowing Harvey to have his say.

“I know I don't know at all well yet, Oliver.” He says. “But from what I've seen, I think you are a lot stronger than you realise. I'd put good money on it.”

His faith in me is wonderful, filling me with warmth. But I just can't help but think it's misplaced. I'm not strong. I've never thought of myself as strong...

But Harvey is looking me, a slight smile on his muzzle, warm confidence in his eyes. “You strike me as a smart guy, Oliver. Eventually, you'll figure out I'm right.”

I've never thought as myself as strong. At least, not until then, when Harvey and his quiet determination that he was right started me thinking that maybe I am but don't realise it...

We talk for a little longer after that, but its getting late and I'm starting to get tired and we decide to call it a night before too long. As he gets up to leave, we exchange phone numbers at his request.

“And if you need anything,” He says, as he's inputting my number into his phone. “Or if you're feeling lonely, you want someone to talk to, you get in touch.”

“That's a nice offer.” I shrug. “But I wouldn't want to impose...”

He pats me on the shoulder. “I'm serious, buddy. You need anything, I'm here for you.”

“Thanks.” I smile at him.

We say goodnight to each other and he departs, leaving me alone once again. I lie back in my bed, closing my eyes.

It's been an interesting day. I could have done without the visit from dad and the ruptured stitches and the bleeding and everything. But that aside, its been a good day, feeling glad at having survived the night before, spending time talking to and getting to know Harvey...

Harvey. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the sudden and unexpected presence of this handsome and friendly bear in my life. He comes out of nowhere, saves me from getting killed, and then proceeds to show me more genuine concern and friendliness than anyone in quite some time.

At least, I'm assuming it's genuine, I'm hoping it's genuine...

I chide myself for such ridiculous paranoid thoughts. Harvey is a nice guy and seems to be interested in being my friend. I try to just focus on that, be happy with that.

Clutching to that thought, I drift off into sleep...

I'm running as fast as I can.

Running and running, along dark street after dark street. I don't know where I am or where I'm going. I just know I need to escape. 

They're chasing me, I can feel them behind them, getting closer and closer. I glance over my shoulder and there they are, threatening, shadowy shapes, four of them, laughing and sneering. There is a glint of moonlight off the blade of a knife.

I am gripped by fear. I know they will kill me if they catch me. That fear drives me on. I keep running.

But its hopeless, useless. I can't escape. They get closer and closer and closer and...

Their paws grab me. I'm thrown painfully against the wall, surrounded by dark forms, laughing and jeering and taunting me.

“Queer!”

“Faggot!”

“Homo!”

They're holding me against the wall. I know I'm going to die. Unless...

I look past them. Surely there's supposed to be someone there to save me?

But the only one there is my father, watching this scene with that smug smile of his, happy in the knowledge that he is right, that he was always right.

There's no one to save me, I'm going to die.

A large glinting blade is waved in front of my eyes. This is it, the end.

The knife is shoved toward my stomach, plunging into me...

...I wake up with a start and a yelp, panting heavily, fur soaked with sweat. 

As I sit up suddenly, still half-asleep, still panicking, I'm rewarded with a sting of pain from my stomach wound. It manages to shock me fully awake.

I take several deep breaths, trying to relax and get myself back under control. It was just a dream, I tell myself, just a nightmare. Yeah, a bad one, but still just a dream.

A quick check and I see my stitches and bandages are still intact. If I had been thrashing about in my sleep while dreaming, at least it wasn't enough to do any damage.

A glance at the clock on the wall tells me its still the middle of the night, barely 3am. I lie back in bed, still tired, but not eager to sleep again. I suppose I'd better get used to this, the nightmares. I expect it won't be the last I have about what happened, not by a long shot. Something to look forward to every time I try to sleep from now on...

Feeling miserable at such a prospect, I roll over onto my side, trying to get more comfortable. And my eyes come to rest on the Get Well card, sitting there on the night stand, the cartoon teddy staring at me.

And then my thoughts are filled with Harvey and I can't help but smile, I can't help but feel a little better. At least on the other side of sleep is tomorrow. When I will get to see him again.

Taking comfort in the thought of Harvey, the certainty that there is at least someone in the world who cares about me, I drift off into a restful, dreamless sleep.