That Day, Part 3: Love and Hate

I hate Sundays. Usually.

Sundays are the one day of the week I don't work, when I don't have my job at the garage to keep me busy. I usually spend them doing all those annoying little household chores that always need to be done, laundry, cleaning, tidying, and so on.

But that's never enough to keep me occupied for the whole day, so I inevitably end up bored and alone with my thoughts, which is rarely a good combination for me.

However, that Sunday after I first met Oliver, that was different. For one, it started with a visit from the police. Officers Philips and Simmons turned up on my doorstep mid-morning, interrupting my usual cleaning routine.

So, we ended up sitting in my living room, them ignoring the coffee that I'd only offered and made for them out of politeness, and I once again go over the events of the previous Friday night, how I saved Oliver's life.

The atmosphere in the room is somewhat tense throughout. The lion Simmons seems a lot more polite and restrained than he had been at the hospital yesterday, but I can still tell he doesn't like me, its written all over his face and in his scent. I do vaguely wonder exactly what he's been told at about me, but its not something I want to ask.

The husky officer, Philips, remains completely neutral and professional, I just can't get a read on how he feels about me, either in his expression or his scent. He seems to be very good at keeping himself under control. At least, he's better at it than his lion partner.

We're at it for a good hour, going over everything twice, with a seemingly endless barrage of questions thrown at me, covering every aspect and minor detail of the incident that I can remember.

The thing is, as exhausting as it is, I know they're just doing their job and being thorough about it. After all, I used to do it myself, I used to be one interrogating the witness to a crime. So, as much as there maybe a temptation on my part to get annoyed at them, I find I can't.

Eventually, it comes to an end. They tell me they have everything they need, they'll write up the reports and my statement, but I'll need to stop by the station in the next few days in order to sign the paperwork.

That causes me a moment of hesitation. I should really have expected I'd need to do that. Or maybe I was blocking that out. The idea of visiting the station again, potentially seeing and having to deal with my former colleagues... well, it fills me with a sort of cold dread. But what else can I do? It needs to be done. So I tell them that yeah, I'll do that, no problem.

And then I'm showing them to the door and they're thanking me for my time, the usual overly polite crap. But before I can close my door, Philips turns back to me.

“Actually,” He says. “Would it be OK if I quickly used your bathroom, Mr. Kemp?”

It comes a little out of the blue, catching me off guard. There is an urging look in the husky's eyes.

“Sure, no problem.” I say.

Philips turns back to his partner. “Go wait for me in the car, I won't be long.” The lion officer simply shrugs and leaves.

I let the husky back into my apartment. “The bathroom is just...”

“I don't need to use the bathroom.” He says. “I wanted a quick unofficial word with you.”

I brace myself. I guess this is where he brings up the crap from my past, has a go at me for...

“I wanted to apologise for my partner.” Philips says.

That takes me by surprise. All I'm able to say in response is a simple. “Huh?”

“His attitude towards you at the hospital yesterday.” The husky officer explains. “It was rather unprofessional. I had to have a word with him afterwards, remind him that you are not a suspect, you are a witness and innocent civilian to be treated with respect, no matter he may have heard about you...”

“And what have you heard about me?” I can't help but ask.

“The same stories and gossip he has.” Philips shrugs. “But, unlike Simmons, I'm smart enough not to believe everything I hear. I'm sure some of it might be true, but its none of my business.”

He looks at me seriously. “But I'll tell you this. I've worked with Ryan a lot, and he's a good guy, always seemed to be a great judge of character. He seems to be okay with you, and that's good enough for me.”

I'm actually reassured by that. “Thanks.”

“Now, I imagine you're not looking forward to having to visit the station.” He continues. “So how about you make it Tuesday morning? I'll be on duty there then. I'll see what I can do about getting you done and out of there as quickly as possible.”

“Wow.” I say. “I'd really appreciate that.”

“Hey, you saved a guy's life.” The husky smiles. “Gotta respect that. Happy to help.” He holds out a paw and I shake it firmly.

He heads for the door. “I should get going, Simmons will be waiting.”

I suddenly see an opportunity to ask something that's been on my mind. “Hey, since we're talking unofficially, can I just ask, what are the chances of catching those guys? The ones who attacked Oliver?”

He sighs. “Not good. There's no other witnesses. We have their descriptions, but I'm not hopeful of finding them. We got some prints off the knife, but they don't match anything in the database. So, unless something else turns up or that wolf happens to get arrested for some other crime, I'm sorry to say this one might very well go unresolved.”

I nod in reply. That was exactly what I'd been afraid of. I see him out the door. “Well, thanks again. For everything. I'll do my best to visit the station Tuesday morning.”

“I'll see you then.” He smiles and nods, and then he's gone.

I throw myself down on my couch, feeling bad. In spite of things with the officers going well, especially with Philips, I can't stop my thoughts focusing on what the husky had to say about the chances of Oliver's attackers getting caught.

I can't help but feeling its my fault. I actually had that fucking wolf in my paws, but let him go. Yeah, logically, I know I had to in order to save Oliver. But knowing that doesn't stop my feeling guilty, doesn't stop me from replaying events in my head over and over, trying to figure out if I could have done something differently.

Could I have incapacitated one of them somehow? Perhaps if I'd hit harder, been rougher with them, I could have knocked one of them out? Maybe I could have quickly rummaged through the wolf's pockets before letting him go, found some ID? Maybe I could have held onto him just a little bit longer, just long enough to choke him until he lost consciousness, and still had enough time to help the badger?

I know I'm just torturing myself. Even if I manage to figure out something that would have for definite resulted in the attackers being caught, it won't make a difference. What's done is done. I made the choices I made as best I could in the heat of the moment. I can't change what happened.

It just grates on my nerves, the idea that those bastards nearly killed a great guy like Oliver, put him in the hospital, and are now going to get away with it. It's just so damn... unfair.

But that's life. It's horribly unfair sometimes. I know that all too well. You just have to accept it and deal with it.

With a deep breath, I force away my guilt. Not completely, of course, as silly as it sounds, some part of me is always going to feel guilty about this. I just won't let it get to me and bury that part as best I can.

I get back to my cleaning routine, hoping the chores will help take my mind off all that. And they do. At least until just after midday, when I finish and suddenly have nothing more to do with myself until I visit Oliver later.

Just as I'm relaxing with some coffee, trying to figure out what to do for lunch, my phone rings. I pick it up and glance at it. My spirits are immediately raised when I see its Oliver calling.

I answer straight away. “Hey, Oliver!”

“Hey, hero!” Comes the badger's cheerful reply.

Hearing his voice, I'm suddenly feeling a whole lot better. “How are you doing today, buddy?”

“Good, for the most part.” He replies, an edge in his hesitation in his voice. “I just wanted to give you a quick call as I wanted to ask if maybe... maybe you'd be willing to run a bit of a errand for me today? I hate to impose, I hate to ask...”

“Hey.” I interrupt. “I told you I'd be there for you if you needed anything, and I meant it. What is it you need?”

“Well, the doctors are talking about discharging me and sending me home in a few days, maybe on Wednesday...” He explains.

“That's great news!”

“Yeah.” He says. “Except, I don't have any clothes or anything. What I was wearing Friday when I was brought in is pretty much a write off. So, if you've got no other plans, I was wondering if you could come by today a little early, pick up my keys and then pay a visit to my apartment, grab some stuff for me...”

“I always have a lot of spare time on a Sunday” I tell him. “So yeah, I can do that for you, no problem.”

“It's not too much trouble for you?” He seems a little uncertain. “I don't really have anyone else to ask...”

I can't help but find his concerns about asking too much of me to be a little adorable. “No it's not, Oliver. It's never too much trouble to do something to help out a friend in need.”

“Thank you.” His voice is happier now, making me picture him with an appreciative smile on his muzzle. It's an image that makes me grin.

“You're welcome, buddy.” I chuckle. “Really, it's no trouble. I'll see you soon then.”

“Looking forward to it!” He replies, causing my grin to get wider and my heart to warm.

He hangs up and, now finding myself with a new energy at getting to help out Oliver, I'm off the couch and getting to work. I make myself a quick lunch, then I shower, get dressed, and am out the door.

To be honest, doing this favour for Oliver is a little more then just helping out a friend. A part of me is quite looking forward to seeing the badger's home. Although I'd never be so disrespectful as to go rummaging through his things or anything like that, I'm hopeful I might notice clues about the place that would help indicate his interests, help me get to know him even better.

That is to say, our talk yesterday did help me get to know the badger quite a bit better already, but I still want to know more. For example, he almost mentioned his cub-hood dream, but clammed up before he revealed anything. What was it? Why did he give it up? It's something important about him, and so I want to know. I'm fervently hoping he'll eventually trust me enough, feel comfortable enough around me, in order to share that part of himself.

And the stuff with him not being confident or strong enough to stand up to his manager at work... that was just disheartening. I hate the idea of this wonderful badger having trouble believing in himself. I do want to find some way to help him on that front, without being too pushy, of course. But I haven't figured out how to do that yet.

I'm actually going over possible plans in my head as I pull into the hospital parking lot. I lock my car and turn to head towards the building, when I have to stop and do a double take. I was certain I just glanced Oliver getting out of a car a few rows over.

I look again, but of course, its not Oliver, just someone who looks an awful lot like him. A stab of anger hits me as I realise who it is...

Oliver's father.

I can't believe it. He's come back. After yesterday, verbally abusing his son, making him so tense he popped his stitches, the bastard actually has the nerve to come back!

Everything else forgotten for the moment, I stomp towards him, protective instincts kicking in again. There is no way in hell I am letting him get near Oliver when he needs to relax and heal.

He's just locking up his car as I arrive. I decide not to beat around the bush. “Get back in your car and leave. Now.”

I take him by surprise, causing him to jump in shock. But he's quick to recover his composure, glaring at me with hate in his eyes. “And what if I don't? Are you going to make me?” He tries to walk past me.

I fold my arms and use my bulk to block his path. “Maybe.” I say, with threat in my voice.

But the old badger is not afraid. His scent is more confident than it was yesterday. “You lay so much as a single paw pad on me, I'll press charges of assault.”

Damn. He's right of course, I can't actually physically stop him going into the hospital, not without making things worse, not without getting myself into a whole heap of trouble. While that might be worth it in order to protect Oliver, perhaps I should try a different approach first...

“Why?” I ask. It's something I have to know. “Why do you hate Oliver so much?”

To my surprise, he looks shocked and offended at that. “How dare you!” He snarls. “I love my son!”

Surely he can't mean that? “Well, you have a damn weird way of showing it!” I snarl back.

“Ollie was a good kid once!” He growls up at me. “But then you damn queers got to him and corrupted him!”

I'm so taken aback at that, it takes me a few seconds to respond. “You... you really believe that nonsense?”

“He used to be normal!” The old badger was adamant. “But then suddenly, he's telling me he's gay and interested in guys! It's not right and its not natural and I will never give up trying to get him to see that! To get him to give it up and go back to being normal!”

“And so you turn up and throw insults at him?”

“I make sure he never forgets how wrong it all is!” He says. “It's harsh, yes, but it needs to be done, for his own sake. He needs to see he can never really be happy as some damn faggot...”

“He's never going to be happy if he simply denies a part of who he is!” I shoot back.

“This is NOT who he is!” The badger growls at me. “It's never who he was! I love Ollie and I will not give up on him. No matter what it takes, I will someday help him give up on this gay crap and help him be normal!”

“He's perfectly normal just as he is!” I growl right back at him. It's quickly becoming apparent that there will be no reasoning with him.

“Well, that's just what a pervert like you would think!” He shakes his head, dismissively. “Now out of my way, I'm going to see my son.”

He tries again to get past me. Once again, I move to block his path. “That's not going to happen.”

“You can't...”

“I used to be a cop.” I interrupt. I have an idea. “I know a few things about the law. When you turned up yesterday, Oliver was so tense, so upset, that he broke his stitches and started bleeding. Because of you.” He actually manages to look horrified at that. I'm unsure if it's an act or not. “Your presence would just make his current condition worse. Which I believe would be enough grounds for an emergency restraining order against you.” I'm bluffing a little there, but hoping he doesn't realise.

I  carry on, as he continues to look dismayed. “In fact, I have a friend who's a lawyer and owes me a few favours.” That part is true, sort of. While not a 'friend' exactly, Ivan does actually owe me a lot of favours, including one very big one. “I call him, and he could probably have it in place inside an hour. The question is, do you want your son to take out a restraining order against you?”

He's thoughtful for a moment. I can see how conflicted and unhappy he is as he reaches a decision. “I'll go.” He says, spitting the words at me. “But not because of you or your threats. I'll go for Oliver's sake. I don't want to make his injuries worse.”

My reply is as honest as it is harsh. “I really don't give a crap why you go. As long as you get the hell out of here and leave Oliver alone.”

He starts to walk away, but offers a departing comment. “I'll never leave him alone. I'll never give up on saving Ollie from the likes of you!”

As there's nothing I can say that will make any difference to him, I remain silent. I just watch him go. It's not until he's in his car and driving away that I allow myself to relax and breathe a sigh of relief.

I head into the hospital, my head filled with dark thoughts about Oliver's father. I wish there was something I could do about him. I really was kind of bluffing about the restraining order, but maybe  it's something worth exploring...

I push those thoughts away as I approach Oliver's room. I swing open the door, aiming a warm smile at the bed.

But the bed is empty.

A brief surge of panic washes over me. Where is...

“Over here, hero.”

Oliver is standing by the window, leaning against it. He's grinning at me.

“Should you be out of bed?” I ask, concerned, walking over to him.

He shrugs. “Got to get out of it eventually. Got fed up of just lying there, so decided to stretch my legs a little.” He looks me in the eye. “But don't worry, to the window and back is about all I feel up to just now.”

As if for emphasis, he starts back to the bed. But he seems a little weak, a little unsteady on his feet.

I'm at his side in a second, taking his arm. “Here, let me help you.”

He doesn't protest at my aid. Instead, he actually leans against me for support as I walk him back to the bed. God damn, the physical contact, this badger leaning against me, just feels so good, so right... I actually have to stop myself from letting out a sigh of contentment.

As we reach the bed, he lets go and sits down, but doesn't get back into it. “Thanks again for coming by a little early to do this favour for me.”

“It's really no problem.” I assure him.

He reaches over to his night stand and picks up a ring of keys and a piece of paper, which he hands to me. “One of the nurses managed to find me a notebook.” He explains. “So I was able to write you a list of what I need and where in my apartment you can find it. My address is on there as well.”

I glance it over quickly. It seems simple enough. “Sure. I can run over there now, and be back before you know it.”

He looks at me strangely, chuckling slightly.

“What is it?” I ask.

“It's nothing.” He says. “It's just... well, I keep wondering why are you so good to me? You've known me less than two days, and yet you seem so willing and eager to help me out so much.”

That is a very good question. And it's one I'm still kind of figuring out the answer to myself. I know I feel a connection to this badger, I know I like him a lot, but why? I'm not entirely sure yet.

I don't say anything like that, though. Instead, I simply shrug and say. “I guess I'm just a nice guy.”

“Yes. You are.” He puts a paw on my arm and pulls me into a hug. I don't resist and embrace him, enfolding him in my arms.

Its just as good as the first hug he gave me the night before, after I surprised him with the Get Well Soon card. To be so close to him, his body pressed against mine, nose filled so completely with his wondrous scent, it just fills me with so much warmth and happiness. I feel like I could happily stay there in that hug for hours, simply enjoying Oliver's closeness.

I'm somewhat reluctant to end it, but I now have an errand to run for the badger, so I pull out of it and smile at him when I see the warmth in his eyes.

“You get some rest, buddy.” I tell him. “I'll be back soon.”

He waves me goodbye and I'm off. It doesn't take me long to get back to my car and be on my way.

About forty minutes later, I've managed to find my way to Oliver's apartment building. He lives in what looks like a nice neighbourhood, clean and relatively quiet streets lined with trees and shrubs. As I pull into the building's parking lot, I take note of how well maintained the whole place seems to be.

When I get out of my car, I'm hit by an array of pleasant scents in the fresh air, such as the smell of freshly cut grass and the aroma of the flowers lining the path leading up to the building.

I head inside to find a nicely carpeted interior, neutrally decorated in white and beige. It's all very pleasant, if a little on the bland side.

Once I find Oliver's door, it takes me a couple of tries to figure out which of his keys is the right one. But I manage it eventually, and am soon stepping inside the badger's home for the very first time.

I'm not entirely sure what exactly I was expecting on the way there. I still knew very little about Oliver, so really had nothing much to go on regarding what his place might be like. All I knew is that I wanted to pay attention to as many of the details as possible, look for clues about the badger.

Inside, I find myself in his living room. There's a nice and comfortable looking leather couch and an armchair, positioned before a big plasma television, with a coffee table on which is sat a closed laptop. There are bookshelves either side of the TV. On the left, the shelves contain DVDs, on the right are books. The walls are decorated with a couple of framed theatre posters, big and bold old time antique ones, or at least reproductions of them.

I step over to the shelves, eager to see what kind of things Oliver is interested in. My eyes run along the shelves of DVD's, taking note of the selection of dramas, thrillers and action movies he owns, interspersed with the occasional highbrow comedy. I actually find it rather heartening that I'm able to spot a fair few of my favourite movies among his collection. Our tastes in films seem to overlap some.

Moving my attention to Oliver's books, I'm interested to find than a large number of them seem to be plays. There's a copy of the complete works of Shakespeare (with numerous bookmarks wedged in its pages), as well as a number of works by an assortment of other playwrights, such as Samuel Beckett, Oscar Wilde and Arthur Miller. The other books on display all seem to be political and military thrillers of various kinds, and a number of romance novels, mostly gay. I particularly take not of how many of the romance books seem to be particularly well read.

I glance back at the posters on the walls. Between them and the plays on his shelves, it would seem the badger is something of a theatre lover. And those romance novels... a strong romantic side perhaps?

I move on to Oliver's kitchen, which adjoins the living room. It's not exactly large, but well organised and nicely decorated. There is a bit of an odour in the air, which I easily identify as being the trash. Of course, no one's been here to empty it the past few days. I wrinkle my nose slightly, but don't let it bother me. In fact, I catch the distinctive scent of Chinese food, and a quick look shows some Chinese take-out containers at the top of the trash. Probably the last thing he had to eat before he headed out Friday night.

Then there's that feeling, like there's some detail I've missed. I let my eyes roam slowly around the kitchen again. And there it is, held onto the door of the refrigerator by a small magnet. A Chinese take-out menu. I look more closely at it. It's rather worn, indicating Oliver has had it for some time. A favourite perhaps? I make a mental note of the address, vaguely telling myself it could come in handy later.

As I leave the kitchen, I feel good at being able to add more details to my list of things I know about Oliver.

The bathroom is nothing special or unexpected, stocked with the usual toiletries you'd expect to find in a guy's bathroom. No revealing clues about Oliver to be found there beyond just how well he takes care of his fur, what with the array of expensive shampoos and conditioners he has there.

I move into the bedroom. The big double bed is unmade and this makes me grin. It would seem the badger is like me, rarely making his bed in the morning unless he really has to. There are a few more old theatre posters on the walls in here as well. I step over to a large dresser in one corner, it draws my interest as there are some framed photos on it.

I peer closer. There are a couple of photos of a young badger, obviously Oliver. One seems to be from his high school graduation, the badger looking happy and proud, dressed in the usual graduation cap and gown, clutching a diploma.

Another shows a teenage Oliver posing for the camera with a number of others, all in various strange costumes. I notice a stage in the background. The cast of a school play maybe? So, not just a theatre buff, but he's actually done some acting.

A third photo is somewhat unexpected, as it is Oliver and his father. Oliver looks quite young here, thirteen or fourteen maybe. Oliver is sat on a bicycle, with his dad stood beside him, smiling and proud, one arm around his son's shoulders. I find myself remembering the older badger's words from earlier.

He used to be normal.

This is obviously from before Oliver figured out he was gay, before he told his father. Its a snapshot of a time when father and son were close, when they were happy. A time before the father's inability  to accept who is son is drove them apart. I'm hit by a pang of sadness and look away from the photo, wondering why Oliver has it on display. Maybe some day I'll find out.

The other photos on display are all an older Oliver, the one I'm more familiar with. Each one has him looking happy alongside another guy. In one, he's at a party of some kind, grinning broadly, arm around the shoulders of a young tiger who is looking a little shy and embarrassed, but is still smiling sweetly at the badger.

In another, Oliver is with a rabbit, the two of them kissing passionately. Their eyes are closed, both lost in the moment. They look so utterly happy together, I wonder what went wrong with them, why they're no longer together.

Yet another sees Oliver stood somewhere sunny, a beach and the ocean in the background. Beside him is a handsome fox with immaculately groomed fur, and the two of them have their arms around each others' waists. They are wearing only shorts and sunglasses and smiling broadly.

The fox appears again in another photo, this time on his own, lounging on an armchair, laughing. Then I realise from the décor in the background, it was taken in this very apartment, out in the living room.

The pictures are obviously of Oliver's ex-boyfriends. The fox, whoever he is, was obviously someone special, he's the only one who has more than one picture on display. I feel a small pang of jealousy, but I immediately quash it.

I shake my head. I'm being ridiculous. Besides, enough sightseeing, I'm there for a reason. I need to get to work. I pull out Oliver's list and read through it once again.

At the bottom of the bedroom closet, I find an overnight bag and a laptop case, just as Oliver's instructions say. I pack up the clothes he wants and grab some of his stuff from the bathroom.

Then I head back into the living room. Once I pack up his laptop, there's just one thing left on the list. I find it on an end table beside the couch, a dog-eared paperback of some gay romance novel. It looks like its been read many times. I smile at it and toss it the bag.

After a quick double check to make sure I have everything, I get going, locking up Oliver's apartment and thoughtfully making my way back to my car.

All in all, its been a successful errand. I got the stuff for Oliver, plus managed to find out some more information about that wonderful badger...

* * * * * * * * *

Harvey is wonderful.

There's no two ways about it, he really is. The way he so readily agreed to help me out today, giving up part of his Sunday, the only day off he has.

He's a wonderful, lovely, nice guy. So of course there's no chance of him being interested in me. How could he possibly be interested in someone like me? He's obviously being nice to me because that's who he is, that's how he'd be with anyone.

And yet, a wistful part of me starts to wonder. What if...?

I shut down that line of thought straight away. No good will come of it, and I have enough problems to deal with without adding hurt feelings over Harvey to the pile. Best to just stay focused on being friends with Harvey. God knows, I have few enough of those.

And so I offer the bear a friendly smile when he arrives back from taking a trip to my apartment. While he was gone, I found myself pondering how quickly I've come to trust Harvey. It's only been a few days, and yet I'm trusting him enough to allow him unsupervised access to my home. And for a private guy like me, that's really something. He really does just exude trustworthiness, at least to me. The whole time he was gone, the possibility that he might take advantage of that trust never once occurred to me...

Okay, that's a lie, it occurred to me once. But frankly, for me, that's amazing, and I would have been worried there was something wrong with me if it hadn't occurred to me at all.

So yeah, Harvey eventually returns, and I'm smiling at him, and he's smiling warmly at me, causing that wistful part of me to flare up again.

“I'm pretty sure I got everything you asked for, buddy.” He says, placing the overnight bag and laptop case he's carrying on the end of my bed.

I pull the bag towards me and rummage through it. “Yep, all here.” I say. I pull out the book sitting on top and flick through it happily.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice him looking at me strangely. “What is it?”

He puts on an odd smile. “Just... I'm curious, out of all the books I saw you have, why that one? Some romance novel about a football playing tiger and a gay rights activist fox?”

Suddenly, I'm feeling defensive. “Hey, this happens to be one of my favourite books!”

He simply shrugs and chuckles. “Okay...”

“So, I have a strong romantic side...” I say. “You have a problem with that?”

His beautiful hazel eyes fix on mine with a meaningful look. “No.” He replies. “Not at all.”

I turn away, tossing the book onto the night stand, trying to suppress both my big happy grin and that wistful part of me once again.

“So, no trouble finding the place?” I ask. “Or finding everything?”

“Nope, no problems.” He tells me. “You have a nice place.”

“Thanks.” I say. I'm dying to ask him if he did any snooping around while there, but I really don't want to give him the impression that I don't trust him. So I try to change the subject. “I hope I didn't drag you away from anything too important today...”

He sits down in the chair beside my bed and waves a paw dismissively. “Nah. Today would have just been a dull day of standard household chores. Although I did have a visit from Officer's Philips and Simmons this morning. They needed to go over things again, make sure they had all the details.”

I notice his expression sink slightly as he talks about the police visit. “What's wrong?”

He's suddenly smiling, but I know a forced smile when I see one. “Nothing.” He says.

“Please, Harvey.” I say, staring at him. “If something's wrong, tell me. I'd like to help if I can. After all, I kind of owe you a lot.”

His smile is warmer now, less forced. “Hey, I'm happy to help. You don't owe me anything.”

“Yes, I do.” I tell him, forcefully. “And don't try to change the subject. Now spill it. What's up?”

He lets out a huge sigh and looks down. “It's nothing you can help with.”

I'm adamant. “Talking about it might help.”

I hate how downcast his expression is as he looks me in the eyes. “It's just... I had an unofficial word with Philips about the attack and the chances of those guys being caught. Let's just say he wasn't very optimistic.”

“I did kind of suspect that might be the case.” I nod. “But it can't really be helped, can it?”

“I guess...” He's still unhappy, I feel an overwhelming urge to do something, anything, about it.

“There's nothing else that can be done.” I tell him.

“I could have done more.” He says this so quietly, I almost miss it.

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

There's a pause. He seems uncertain whether or not to say more. Just as I'm about to ask him to continue, he carries on. “When I interrupted the attack. I could have done more, tried to knock one of them out, grab some ID from one of them. Something to help identify them afterwards...”

It takes me a moment to realise my muzzle is hanging open in shock. I close it, staring at the dispirited bear. He saved my life against four attackers, and he's actually feeling guilty about not doing more? Blaming himself for the fact they're unlikely to be caught? The surge of warmth and affection that hits me is overpowering.

I clamber out of bed and step towards him. He see me and gets up. “You should stay in bed and...”

I interrupt him by flinging my arms around his torso and hugging him fiercely. After a moment, I feel his arms gently hugging me back, his large frame relaxing into me.

“I don't...” He starts to say.

“Shut up and listen to me.” I tell him, as I pull back slightly, but still keep my arms around him. I fix him with a determined glare. “You did absolutely everything you could. You saved my life. Trust me when I say that you have nothing at all to feel bad about, nothing to feel guilty about.”

He tries to protest. “It's not that simple...”

“Yes, it is!” I half-growl back at him. “You saved my life, Harvey. That's what matters. Now, I want you to forget all this nonsense about how you might have done more. No more feeling bad about it. You hear me?”

And then there's this lovely bemused smile creeping across his muzzle. “Okay, if you say so...”

I pat him on the chest. “I do say so!” I let go of him and head back to bed. “If those guys get caught, they get caught. If they don't... then that's the way it is...”

As I sit down on the bed again, I see Harvey looking at me intently. His bemused smile has transformed into a thoughtful one.

“That's quite a laid back attitude toward the guys who nearly killed you.” He says. “I mean, you must hate those guys...”

I sigh. “I don't hate them.” And believe it or not, I really mean it.

Now it's Harvey's turn to have his muzzle hang open in shock. It takes him a moment to say anything. “Seriously?”

“And what would hating them accomplish?” I say. “The way I see it, there's more than enough hate in the world, I've experienced more than my fair share of it myself...” The thought of my father briefly flits through my mind, but I ignore it. “So why add more that will do nothing?”

“But they tried to murder you!” The bear really seems to be having trouble understanding my point of view. He's still standing, leaning against the bed.

I do my best to explain. “When I think of those guys, I just wonder, what made them that way? After all, no one is born with that much hate and violence in them. So what kind of life must they have had to make them like that?” I offer him a shrug. “I guess when I think about them, its more in terms of pity, of feeling sorry for them.”

Harvey is silent, just looking at me strangely, as if he doesn't know what to make of me.

I feel my shoulders sag slightly under that look. “I guess that makes me weak, or weird, or something...”

“Not at all.” Harvey rumbles, a comforting edge to his voice. “I'm actually impressed. To have such a degree of compassion in you that you actually feel sorry for the guys who attacked and tried to kill you.” He shakes his head, as if he can't fully believe it. “And it further proves what I was telling you last night. You're stronger than you realise.”

“How so?” I ask.

“You have the strength of character to resist automatically feeling hatred towards those guys.” He explains. “That's not something many would be able to do. I wouldn't be able to do it.”

“I guess I'm not like most people then.” I sigh.

“No.” Says Harvey, quietly, looking at me with a broad grin, a degree of tenderness in his eyes I haven't seen before. “You really not. You're something special.”

“It's just the way I am.” I say, my heart warmed by the way he's looking at me. “I try not to hate anyone...”

“Except for your father...” He says.

And just like that, the warm-hearted moment between us is gone. A sharp look jumping to my features before I can stop it. The atmosphere in the room is suddenly very different. A lot colder.

I can tell Harvey realises it too. He seems to recoil slightly at my expression, his smile vanishing in an instant. He knows he's just said exactly the wrong thing.

“I'm so sorry.” The bear is very apologetic, eyes dispirited, expression fallen. “I shouldn't have said that, it just sort of slipped out...”

I hold up a paw, silencing him. I take a few deep breaths, getting a tight reign on the emotions that inevitably come with the mention of my father.

“No need to be sorry.” I say, doing my very best to keep my voice even. “It's a fair point. But my father is... well, its a complicated case.”

“Look, we can talk about something else...” He tries to say.

“No. I want you to understand.” And I can't believe it, but I actually mean it. I've never really cared before if someone understands things between me and dad. Hell, I so rarely even talk about it with anyone. But for some reason, Harvey is different. For some reason I can't quite fathom at that moment, I'm actually going to try and explain it to him.

“As strange as it may sound.” I begin slowly. It's an effort to say every word. “I don't hate my father. I hate what he has become these days. What I turned him into.”

Harvey stays quiet. I can tell he must be dying to question that, but seems willing to wait for me to continue.

“From what you saw of him, it must be hard to believe this, but when I was growing up, he was the best dad in the world.” I explain. “Always there for me, always ready to help me with anything, always there for me to talk to about anything that was bothering me. He never missed any major event in the entirety of my cub-hood. Birthdays, school plays, parent teacher conferences. He was a hard working single parent, but always made sure to be there for me, always made time for me.”

I pause, taking a breath. Damn, this is difficult to talk about, more than I thought it would be. Every sentence is like putting my heart through a shredder. But I'm determined to get through it. “Sure, he could often be a little over-protective of me, but that's understandable, given my mother...” Harvey looks up at that. Perhaps he'd been wondering what my other parent was like?

I continue. “When I was born, there were... complications. I don't remember the exact medical jargon, suffice to say that she... well, she died giving birth to me.”

Harvey's paw is immediately on mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I'm sorry.”

I offer him a weak smile in return. “It's okay. I never knew her. Except for what dad told me about her. You see, he loved her completely. In all the years since then, he never remarried, never even started dating again. And its like... whatever of her was in me was all he had left of the woman he loved. So yeah, he'd be somewhat over-protective of me sometimes.”

I lie back in bed, spirits sinking. Now I'm coming to the real difficult part. “I loved my father. I knew with completely certainty that no matter what, I could tell him anything, and he'd been understanding and help me figure it out. But then, I hit puberty, I started getting attracted to guys, started fantasising about males, and even had an experimental kiss with Billy Hodgkins at school...”

I close my eyes. “I realised I was... well, different. So of course, I talked to my dad about it all. He'd help me, right?” I can't stop my shoulders sagging, and I have to force myself not to cry as the painful memory overwhelms me. “I couldn't have been more wrong. It was like... when I said the 'g' word, he was suddenly someone completely different. The loving father I had know all my life was gone, and I have not seen him since. In his place was the horrible, angry, hate-filled... thing that you met yesterday. If only I'd been smart enough to keep my damn muzzle shut...”

“Oliver...” I feel Harvey's paw on my arm. He's trying to reassure me. But I don't want that. I want him to understand. He needs to understand what I did.

I sit up and open my eyes, startling the bear, almost snarling at him. “Don't you get it? I did that to him! He loved me and I destroyed that when I told him I was gay! That guy who hates me so much for what I am? I turned him into that! And no matter how much I try to forget about it, or ignore it, that fact is always going to be with me!”

I'm panting heavily, tears are spilling my eyes, I can't hold them back any longer. I seriously underestimated how rough it would be talking about this. My heart and head are so awash with guilt and pain I almost feel like I'm drowning in them. There's a good reason I tend to repress this whole thing, rarely talking or thinking about it. Ever.

Harvey looks at me sternly. I don't know what he's going to do. I wish my sense of smell were recovered enough for me to pick up some sort of clue from his scent. Right then, I'm half expecting him to be tell me how horrified he is and leave, never to return. I just told him I'm some kind of monster who destroyed a father's love for his son...

He grabs me and pulls me into a hug, pressing me against his chest, his arms around me, rocking me gently back and forth. What is he...?

“Now you listen to me, you damn foolish badger.” He says, soothingly. “You did absolutely nothing wrong. You were just being you, telling him about a new part of who you are. If he couldn't handle that, then that is down to him, not you. Don't you dare blame yourself for whatever he has become. That's all him, not you.”

“You're just saying that, trying to make me feel better...” I try to pull away, but he won't let me, his strong arms holding me in place. He nuzzles at me affectionately.

“I mean every damn word.” The bear says, his voice full of steely determination. “I haven't known you long, but it's plainly obvious to me that you are smart and strong and wonderful and compassionate. Whatever kind of monster you may think of your are when it comes to your father, you need to accept that you're just plain wrong.”

“But...”

“No ifs, no buts!” Harvey cuts me off, still hugging me tight. Its becoming more and more difficult to stop myself relaxing into the bear's embrace. “You, Oliver, are a great guy. You are not responsible for who your father chooses to be.”

Moments pass in silence, Harvey hugging me, comforting me in a way no one has ever done before. And then I say the words I have never ever said aloud all these years, but have been in me the whole time. “I... I miss him.”

Harvey keeps hugging, one paw stroking me gently. “Of course you do, buddy. You'd be crazy not to. But that doesn't mean you're to blame, and it never will. Miss him, remember who he used to be, but never, ever blame yourself for him.”

I have no words to say. Nothing comes to mind. I can only lose myself in Harvey's hug. To my surprise, he's actually managing to ease the torrent of emotions in me.

“I know its easier said than done.” The bear is still speaking, quietly and gently. “I know it will take time. But I know you can put it behind you and move on. I believe in you.”

Nothing more is said for quite some time. I'm not sure for how long exactly. There is nothing more to be said. I just stay there in his arms, letting the emotion gradually seep away. Harvey just lets me relax into him, a large wall of soft and comforting ursine.

Eventually, I feel up to pulling out of the hug and Harvey finally releases me. I sit back, wiping at my eyes with the back of a paw.

When I look at him, Harvey is looking concerned, his eyes radiating warmth and compassion. “You okay?”

“For the moment, yeah...” I nod. “I'm feeling a bit better. I've got myself back under control now.”

He lets out a breath and smiles. “Glad to hear it.”

“Thank you.” I say, and then shake my head. “You seem to be developing quite a habit of being there to help me when I really need it...”

He gives me a shrug. “I guess I just like helping people, especially good guys.” He leans forward and pats me on the arm and winks. “And helping out great guys is even better.”

A short laugh escapes me at that, and before I can help it, a small smile is gracing my muzzle.

Harvey notices. “Hah! A smile!” He proclaims. “Progress!”

That leads to an even bigger laugh and a bigger smile. And given how bad I was feeling just a short time before, that's something of a minor miracle.

Harvey hangs around for a few more hours after that. We talk more, but manage to avoid anything too serious. I ask him how a guy like him could possibly still be single, and he does his best to avoid the question, simply leaving me with the impression that he has been single for quite some time.

I try to ask about his parents, but again he avoids the subject, taking the conversation in a different direction. I don't push it. After the big talk about my father, I'm really not up to getting into any topic of conversation that is too heavy. I'm rather drained on the emotional front. If he should feel up to talking about such things, I'll be here for him, but I don't want to force it before he's ready.

But that said, it is a little frustrating. I've opened up to Harvey more than I ever have to anyone since my father, and yet he doesn't feel like opening up to me in return. But I really don't like feeling that petty and try my best to bury that part of me.

Perhaps its further evidence of me feeling more for him than he does for me? The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. I really need to get my head in order when it comes to that bear. I need to focus on him as a good friend, nothing more.

Eventually, the time comes where Harvey has to get going. He still has a few things to do at home and has work tomorrow. We say our goodbyes and he departs. I'm left with the usual slightly saddened feeling once he's gone. The room just feels somehow... darker when he's not here.

I shake off that thought determined to do something to take my mind off it. I pull out my laptop. I am very happy Harvey got it for me. I have been going a little stir crazy, stuck in hospital with only a TV for entertainment. Yeah, I'll likely be out of here in a few more days, but I'd like to avoid going insane before then...

Once I'm online, thanks to the hospital's Wi-Fi, I check my email and get to chatting with what few friends I have. I fill each of them in on what happened to me, having to relive the attack several times as I describe it to every one of them. Of course, they're all very concerned, and it takes me some time to convince them that I'm fine, I'm going to be OK.

None of them live close enough to actually visit me, but I am rather touched that my friend Richard offers to do so anyway, even though it would be a four and a half hour drive for him to get here. I tell him no, as much as I appreciate it, he really doesn't need to. And then he takes me off guard by suggesting that maybe I should call Justin.

Honestly, that had never occurred to me. I mean, if I were to call him and tell him I was in hospital, he'd come running, no doubt. I'm just not so sure I want to see him.

The two of us were a couple for nearly three years, and it was the most serious, longest lasting relationship I've ever been in. I loved that damn fox so fucking much, I loved being with him, I loved living with him. I was so certain we were happy. Turns out, I was the only one who was happy, as he eventually walked out on me, telling me it wasn't working out.

To say I was heartbroken would be an understatement. It took me several months before I was able to let go and move on, a process that was not helped by several visits from my dad during that time. But I managed to move on, even if I have been single ever since.

And then Justin came back. He was all apologetic about everything, sorry for hurting me so much and wanting to be friends. We tried it for a bit, but to be honest, as good as it felt to have another friend, and to have him back in my life, it was ultimately just too weird. It just wasn't going to work. If I'm brutally honest with myself, my feelings for him were still there and knowing we would only ever just be friends... it started to get a little painful.

So, I stopped calling him, and he never tried to get back in touch. I moved on from him yet again. That was a little over a year ago.

Now that he's been mentioned, though, the temptation is suddenly there to call him. It would be good to see him, I'd probably get lots of attention and nice hugs from him. But on the other paw, it would risk reopening old wounds.

Eventually, I decide against it, and since he and Justin are friends, I ask Richard not to tell the fox about me being in hospital. I've got enough difficulty figuring out my feelings with Harvey. I don't want Justin turning up and making things even more confused.

After a little while, I switch off my laptop and put it away, instead grabbing my book and lying back to do some reading. But I find it tough to focus on the words, my mind keeps drifting. Eventually I give it up, tossing the book onto the night stand and just lie there in bed, thinking.

I keep turning the conversation with Harvey over and over in my mind. If you'd told me I would ever tell someone what I told Harvey about my dad tonight, I would have said that was highly unlikely. If you'd told me I would tell it to someone I had only know a few days, I would have called you crazy. I really can't explain how or why I let it all come spilling out with my new bear friend.

But the fact is, I'm glad it did. Letting it out like that, as painful and difficult as it was, it felt kind of good afterwards. Like a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Oh, it still hurts so fucking much to think about dad and who he used to be versus who is now, make no mistake about that. But I still bizarrely feel a little better about it all now that its not bottled up anymore.

Of course, I imagine what really helped is Harvey, how comforting and non-judgemental he was about it all. I simply can't imagine how anyone else might have reacted. But then, I also can't imagine telling anyone else beyond him.

When I get out of this damn hospital, I'm really going to have to come up with some way of properly thanking him for all his help. Just taking him to dinner seems somehow inadequate after today.

It's something to think about. I close my eyes and try to sleep. Monday tomorrow. The message I left at work will be picked up in the morning. I wonder if some of my co-workers might come by to visit...

That thought makes me sit up. I grab my book from the night stand and slip it back into my overnight bag, in case I forget to put it away in the morning. I really don't want the people I work with knowing I like gay romance novels. It would lead to too many awkward questions.

When that's done, I settle back into bed to sleep, hoping that no nightmares will plague me tonight. Even if they do, however, I am confident I won't let them get to me.

As I drift off, I focus on Harvey's words from earlier, and I find them reassuring.

I believe in you.

* * * * * * * * * *

I can't believe how much of an ass I am.

I mean, of all the things I could have done talking to Oliver last night, I actually went and brought up his father? What the fuck was I thinking?

I caused him to drag up all the hurt with his dad, I caused him to go through it all, relive what was obviously something deeply painful and personal in front of someone he hardly knows. The guilt of it all hangs heavily on me.

And it was damn heartbreaking listening to it all and seeing how much the poor badger blames himself. I just wish there'd been something more I could have done than hug him and comfort him. Damn, I can be so fucking useless sometimes.

At least I managed to get a smile out of him afterwards. And he seemed to be feeling a bit better about it. And thankfully I managed to go the rest of the visit without saying something stupid, even if it meant having to steer the conversation away from some serious topics that I don't think he'd be interested in hearing about just yet, such as my messy romantic history and the stuff with my parents.

I find my thoughts turning to Oliver's father. In particular that talk with him in the hospital parking lot. He adamantly claimed he loved his son. At the time, I didn't really believe it, I sort of wrote it off as a shameless homophobe trying to justify his hate.

But now? Now I'm convinced it was true. He loves Oliver. But he can't accept his son being gay, doing something he believes is very wrong. So he reacts with harshness, causing Oliver to get hurt and be harsh to him in return...

It's such a God awful tragic mess.

And all I can do is lie there and wish I knew of a way to fix it, to...

Lie here?

I snap back to reality with a start. I'm lying underneath a car, my nostrils filled with the stink of motor oil. There's a wrench in my paw. I'm supposed to be fixing something, but for the life of me I can't remember what.

Damn it! I haul myself out from underneath the car. I'll have to check the paperwork to remind myself what I need to do.

I actually came into work early this morning specifically to catch upon stuff after the time I missed on Saturday. But I'm so distracted, so easily letting myself get caught up in thoughts of Oliver and his father and my stupid mistake yesterday, that I'm actually just falling further behind. This is actually the third time this morning I've snapped out of my reverie to find I've completely forgotten what exactly I'm supposed to be doing.

Frustrated, I lean against the car I'm working on and bury my face in my paws. Damn it, Harvey, I tell myself, you need to pull yourself together!

Letting my mind continually get pulled into thinking about all this crap is going to do no one any good. As much as I might want to help the situation with Oliver and his father, there's really nothing I can do. Hell, I don't even know the guy's name and address and its not like I'm going to ask Oliver for them...

Of course, there is another way I can find out...

I try to stop that train of thought right there, I really do, I try to tell myself that I shouldn't intrude in Oliver's private life, I shouldn't go sticking my muzzle in where it doesn't belong...

But the part of my that feels guilty is stronger. Guilty over not during more during the attack. Guilty over bringing up Oliver's dad and putting him through all that emotional pain yesterday. That part just latches onto the idea of trying to do something very special for Oliver to make it up to him.

I spend the rest of the morning trying to talk myself out of this course of action. Even if I find his dad, what are you going to do then? Magically convince him to suddenly be tolerant? I don't know, I haven't figured that part out yet.

What if Oliver doesn’t approve of me doing this? What if he ends up hating me for the intrusion into his personal matters? That actually does make me hesitate. Could I really handle Oliver hating me? With how close I've come to feel to him already, I'm not sure that I could.

But on the other paw, could I live with myself not at least trying to help resolve something that hurts the badger so deeply? I'm not sure I could do that either.

And why? Why go to such extraordinary lengths for Oliver, this badger I've only known a few days?

Right then, that's the moment I start to suspect. But it just seems too soon, too silly, too stupid, I can't even bring myself to think the words, the reason why. But from that moment on, I know those words are there, lurking at the back of my mind...

By the time I reach my lunch break, I've managed to decide very little. I've convinced myself there's no harm in just finding out the name and address of Oliver's father. Once I have those details, I can then decide whether or not to proceed further.

So on my break, I pull out my phone and call Ivan.

It doesn't take him long to pick up. “Harvey!” He rumbles. “It's been a while.”

“It sure has...” I reply. “How's things?”

“Good.” Ivan says, evenly. “Business is good. Won a case just last week, earned myself a big bonus.”

“Congratulations.” I pause. “Were you working for good guys or bad guys?”

He laughs. “Does it matter?”

I roll my eyes. “Maybe not to someone who's morally bankrupt...”

He simply chuckles. “I think you'll find the proper term is 'a lawyer'. But if it makes you feel any better, Harvey, I was working for the good guys in this one.”

“Is that true?”

He snickers. “You'll have to figure that out for yourself...”

I sigh. Ivan is quite the character and talking to him can involve a fair bit of effort. I would hesitate to describe him as a friend exactly, but I have known him since high school. And I have saved his white tiger ass so many times over the years, I lost count.

But he didn't, he has always kept track of exactly how many favours he owes me, and has always made it clear I just have to call and he'll do whatever he can to pay off one of those favours.

I've always found it a weird contradiction with him that I've never really wrapped my head around. Ivan has a fair amount of shady connections and sources, has got himself caught up in all sorts of nasty schemes and situations over the years (many of which I saved him from), and can be ruthless and dishonest when the mood takes him.

And yet, he seems to have this innate sense of honour that he will never, ever betray. If he owes you one, he will definitely find a way to repay you. If he makes you a promise, gives you his word, invokes his honour, then it is essentially a cast-iron guarantee, he will move heaven and earth to do what he's said he will do. Of course, he may very well stab you in the back immediately afterwards.

You can trust his word completely, but never completely trust him. That's my philosophy when it comes to dealing with Ivan.

“So how are you?” The white tiger asks. “Still wasting your life at the silly garage?”

“It's not a waste and it's not silly.” I growl.

“Harvey, we both know your better than being a mere mechanic...”

I cut him off with a snarl. “I did not call to discuss my career.”

“Let me guess.” He says in reply. “You're calling in a favour.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Excellent!” Ivan sounds very pleased. “What can I do for you, Harvey?”

“I want to discretely find out someone's name and address.” I explain. “But I don't have many details to go on.”

“Sounds like something I can handle.” Ivan replies. “Or rather, that my sources can handle. Okay then, what details do you have?”

I take a deep breath. “He's a badger, has a 29 year old son named Oliver Reynolds. He's a widower, his wife died giving birth to their son.”

I can hear the sound of pen and paper through the phone line as he takes this down. “Yeah, that's not much,” he says, “but it should be enough.”

“Then say what you know I want to hear.” I say, firmly.

“Really, Harvey? Don't you trust me?” He sounds hurt, but I know him well enough to know he's putting it on.

“No, I don't.” I tell him. “Say it.”

The white tiger sighs. “Fine. I give you my word.”

“All of it, Ivan.”

“Can never get anything past you, can I?” He laughs. “Okay then, I give you my word that I will discretely find out this guy's name and address for you, if I can.”

I'm satisfied with that. “That's better.”

“Well, I should go, I have some meetings to prepare for.” He says. “I'll call you back when I find something.”

He hangs up and I'm stood there staring at the phone in my hand for several minutes.

Despite my determination to do whatever it takes to help out Oliver, one thought keeps circling in my mind.

I hope I know what the hell I'm doing...