Alex Reynard

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Chapter 90

Two days later, the pig had definitely gotten smarter.

Above its garbage-compactor bellows of feral fury, Toby tried to concentrate his focus. A moment ago when he'd dodged a charge, it had already begun altering course to where he would be. It had actually attempted a feint. Nearly succeeded, too. Toby was startled by the bluff and yanked himself out of the path of its onrushing tusks on sheer reflex. In the three seconds he had available to rest before it could get itself turned around, he let himself marvel at having created this thing, while still not knowing how it worked.

Iron hooves gouged the ground as it circled. It's snort sounded like the chuff of pneumatic brakes. Its head hinged left and right, splinters and spittle flying like flakes of dandruff, as the shutters in its camera-eyes zoomed in and out, searching. Recognizing Toby, it adjusted tactics and tried another charge.

They were battling to the death again in a twenty-foot circular arena. It had required that much clear-cutting of imaginite to bring it to life. Toby had wanted to make something that would keep his battle skills sharp, but he knew an autonomous sparring robot was a heavy task. If his first try failed, he'd planned to ask Piffle and Zinc to join hands and add to his will. But Toby had surprised himself, and the imaginite had surprised him too. He'd based his robot off one of the pigthings that prowled around Ectopia's garbage heaps. Aside from George, they were the constructs he'd encountered most often, and so he had the best chance of remembering their movements and how to imprint them.

The pigdroid's head was massive, recalling the cowcatcher on the front of a steam train. Its tusks were curved slabs of rusted junkyard metal. Its short, powerful legs propelled it like a missile. Indeed, it looked like something Zinc might have designed in his palace of parts behind the Jennie-Mae. Sparking gears rotated alongside engine pistons and blinking electronics, visible through gaps in its cobbled body. Wood, metal, clockwork, and silicon: technology from every age, all working together, hellbent on killing a mouse.

Toby swerved sideways to avoid its next rush, and nearly got his hand around its ear to swing himself onto its back for a neck shot. A glance over his shoulder showed it had herded him near the edge of the arena. Already it was turning to bulldoze him against the rock spikes. It charged, then dug in two hooves to snap-swivel, intent on mashing Toby to pulp with the slab of its side. Toby saw all this happening in a heartbeat.

When the others watched him fighting it, Piffle said Toby looked like an owl. Junella said he looked like some creepy-ass glass-eyed mannequin. Toby didn't take offense, as both observations were accurate. He was trying to develop a fighting style based primarily on observation and recalculation. During combat he kept his eyes wide open, blinking as little as possible. The rest of his face was slack, devoid of expression. Not wasting energy on reactions. He wanted to make himself into a calculator. See the outcome before it came; adjust his response accordingly. Not without thought, but without doubt.

The robotic beast was drifting sideways at him like a clanking tidal wave. There was no hesitation as he ran backwards to the arena's wall. As soon as his foot touched a pillar, he tensed like a grasshopper and sprung off it. It was close, but his sandal-clad foot gained enough height to hook the edge of the pigdroid's back and vault over.

Toby attempted a blind-aimed shot at the beast's reset port. No such luck. But he'd avoided being crushed, and he landed on his feet afterwards, so that was more than enough to satisfy him.

George had been cheerleading throughout the fight. He whinnied a laugh. "Excellent, Sire! What a display of acrobatics!" Toby did not look over to acknowledge this compliment, and George didn't take any offense when he didn't. He knew his master became a being of pure focus when he fought the swine. George continued shouting encouragement nonetheless. Sire Toby had even told him to; saying that if he couldn't fight with some mild distractions going on around him, this training was pointless anyway. George found his respect for Sire Toby swelling larger day by day. The mouse had evolved so much since they had met. George dared to wonder if he had been a factor of help in this. He hoped so. His master had proven himself and his actions worthy of unquestioning trust. Although sometimes he wondered why, if Sire Toby desired to spar, he had invented a pig when there was a willing and able parasomnic construct by his side. George thought he might even enjoy a replay of their market battle, now that he was in control of himself and it could be fought in the spirit of camaraderie. Perhaps Sire Toby knew this, and had wanted specifically an enemy that would be guaranteed not to show him the mercy a friend might. George thought he could be merciless if asked. But still, Sire Toby would give an answer when it was time. He simply needed to be patient.

Toby let the taser fall out of his hand, switching back to his hammer. He'd designed the pig's armor to withstand all manner of bashing and fired strikes, but his primary weapon was still dandy for diversion. Toby aimed on the run and launched a hammer across the arena. Deadeye on its snout, knocking its attention away and giving him some breathing room.

George would have been happy to know, his guess was largely correct. As much of a pain in the tail as the pigdroid's dead-hearted relentlessness was, it was useful. Scaphis would not pull her punches either. But Toby had multiple purposes for building this thing. He'd tell them once he was ready. One was to spar, one was to prove to himself he could make something this complex, and one was to practice dumbfounding a disposable second weapon like Junella could.

The constructed construct's silver eye irised wide and narrow, refocusing. Scanning in both directions, it caught Toby in its gaze again. It barreled towards him on a bee line course. When they were close enough, it did not waste the time it would take to pivot. It simply launched itself into the air, trying for a flying body slam.

Toby dodged it easily with a nimble hop. No more difficult than a housefly evading a grizzly bear's swat.

A metal snout drove the wind from his lungs.

'It was another feint,' Toby thought as he went flying.

Whether a bluff or a lucky strike, when the boar splatted on its belly a foot away from Toby, it was in the perfect position to jerk its head sideways with enough force to bat the mouse across the arena like a paddle swatting a pinball.

Toby wasn't hurt by the thwack, but bad luck hit him on impact. A lance of blinding-white pain struck his leg. His ankle was cranked nearly 180 degrees. The rest of him hit the grey dust and he coughed from the cloud it puffed up. His ankle felt like a tiny sun was now burning inside of it. A sprain at best, though probably a break.

He felt the vibrations in the ground of the pigdroid's onrushing coup de grâce. It was heading straight for him like a train on rails. Toby slowed time to a freeze, forcing himself to think lighting fast. He played out several possible attacks and counterattacks. Some ideas were futile. Some were stupid. Some he didn't have time or leverage for.

'Why not try a stupid one? It's not like the injury'll be permanent.'

Stupid was unpredictable. Unpredictable was good.

Toby faked struggling helplessly as the boar neared closer. Between the grind of its cogs and the pounding of its hooves, the beast was as loud as an earthquake. It lowered its tusks like a snowplow, hoping to either impale him or launch him.

Toby kept his eyes open, seeing every detail. Calculating time and distance. Waiting till the exact right fragment of a second to move.

It wasn't expecting Toby to do another jump-and-grapple. Not from the front, and not using the very ankle it had just taken out of action.

Toby screeched at the floral bloom of agony caused by leaping up and springing forward on his bad leg. But it was not an unexpected pain, therefore it could be prepared for. Toby kept his eyes open as his right hand reached out to its full length, steel fingers tense like mousetraps, until he clutched a handful of pig forehead.

Toby's arm pulled back like reeling in a fishing line. His good leg shot forward to get leverage off the pig's nose. This burst of effort was enough to roll him into a perfect flying somersault.

The pig's eyes whirred wildly as they tried to compensate for a target that gravity had seemingly stopped regulating.

Toby's breath and heartrate were perfectly calm as he sailed upside-down over the pigdroid's back. He was going to have a cataclysmically shitty landing like this, but that was fine. The only thing that mattered was that, just past the apex of his arc, he had a gorgeous line of sight at the pigdroid's reset port. Red border like a bullseye.

His left arm swung out in front of him. Right when it needed to, the 50,000 volt police-issue taser appeared in his palm. There were other ways to kill the pigbot, but this was the only one Toby allowed himself. Never his hammer. The taser was the key. He had conjured the first one from imaginite, and had dumbfounded it countless times since then. He needed to be able to produce it at an instant's notice, no matter the stress he was under. He had just enough reach to jam it into the reset port.

Purple-white lightning illuminated his face as the circuit closed.

The pigthing's eyes immediately lost their shine. The pistons in its legs went slack. Momentum coasted it forward several feet till it ground to a stop like a ship hitting shore.

Toby gave himself a nod of satisfaction. Then he hit the dirt crown-first and shattered his neck and both collarbones.

He was a dizzy splatter of mousefur when George came galloping up. The pain in his neck had stolen priority from his ankle and was yelling for Toby's attention, but he took slow breaths and ignored it. 'It's only pain. It's only pain. It's only pain,' his inner voice repeated. 'Pain ends. Victory is more important than pain.'

"Excellent denouement, Sire Toby!" George shouted proudly as he skidded to a stop. "Another thrilling show! Watching your fights is grand entertainment."

Toby forced his jaw to unlock and his throat to unclench. "I should charge tickets."

George cocked his head at that, then realized it was a joke. He chuckled, impressed that his once-fragile master could keep his good humor now, even with half a clavicle poking out of his fur.

Toby tried to raise his right arm, but that was not happening. He imagined his body as a hotel on fire with a 'condemned' sign across the front door. "George, I can't seem to kill myself. Could you, please?" he asked politely.

An immediate bow of acknowledgment. "My pleasure, Sire." George took a step closer to position himself. "Not that it would be a pleasure to kill you, Sire! My apologies! I meant only that I am glad to alleviate your suffering."

The throb in his broken bones made his eyes water. "Gotcha. Please do."

George nodded in acknowledgment of his task. Then, like a good friend, he raised his leg to deliver a kick that could shatter concrete.

Toby saw a vast black hoof float into view. Then it introduced itself to his grey matter.

One brief oblivion later, he blinked and caught his balance, having for some reason popped back to life standing up. Toby still wasn't sure how that worked. Resurrection was so random. Especially the part where sometimes he'd simply blink into a new mouse, yet other times there'd be a copy corpse left behind. Like the thing beneath George's leg that was extraordinarily not alive anymore. Toby stuck his tongue out. "Ew."

George lifted his hoof out of the mess and began to scrape it along the dirt.

Toby gave his legs and back a good stretch. As usual after a combat death, he could still feel faint, fading impressions of his injuries and adrenaline. He dumbfounded a chocolate milk to help him relax. He slurped from the cool glass bottle and surveyed the inert pigdroid. "George?"

"Yes, Sire Toby?"

"How about you dispose of that," he pointed at his corpse, "while I go look for Piffle. The pig was rattling a lot. I think its due for another tune-up."

A nod of salute. He looked down at the mess o' mouse at his feet. Sometimes bodies disappeared after people stopped looking at them. Other times they needed a good kick to send them cartwheeling into the starlit void. George idly wondered just how much debris was floating in space around Phobiopolis. Nothing to decay it. It would just orbit eternally. 'Until it is retrieved,' he thought, remembering the three bedridden fursons he had rescued. They had still not woken up, but just knowing they were out of that terrible place brought George a smile.

Toby circled the pig for a brief inspection of the damage. Looked fine on the outside, but it had left a trail of shards and screws behind it like dandruff. It was annoying not knowing for certain whether he'd won on his own merits, or if his opponent had handicapped itself by overworking its innards loose. "By the way, do you have any idea where she is?"

George raised his head and flared his sinus cavity. "Madam McPerricone is wearing perfume and is located two hundred feet to our west."

Toby still enjoyed the impossibility of George being able to smell things in a place with no atmosphere. Technically, there shouldn't have been gravity either. Definitely not the same as back on Phobiopolis soil. More proof that this world reacted to whatever was expected of it.

Toby passed the stallion and gave his flank a pat. "Thanks again, just for being a spectator. It's not like I'm trying to show off, but it's good to feel like I'm not doing this alone."

"Very much agreed." He affectionately scraped his skull along the mouse's headfur. "And do not think it is an imposition. I have no more important duty than to support you."

Toby blushed a little, patted the loyal steed's forehead, then went off to find a hamsterfly.

***

Not for the first time, Toby thought that their hiding place under the mountain was beautiful in its own unique way. The land was a uniform grey, and the rock columns resembled monster zits, but the vast barren sameness had a certain serenity. And the stars above (below?) were dazzling. Back in his Earth life, car exhaust and city lights had clouded the night sky. Here, the black sky was an infinite sea of resting fireflies.

Toby detoured by the main camp to check on their three rescuees. Still asleep, but that was allright. Zinc had said it might take them months to wake up, if ever. 'A coma within a coma...' Toby didn't expect a miracle recovery. A day's tour through Dysphoria had put him in a state of profound nihilism. Even a quick flyover at George-speed had left him disjointed, irritable, and joyless. To have spent years in that place, constantly bombarded by Logdorbhok's sadistic games... Even if you could see through them and win a few times, there'd never be any rest before the next one began. Never. Toby didn't want to dwell on that thought. He closed the curtain around the three beds.

He looked around briefly for Junella. With the Fearsleigher back and plenty of time on their hands, they were finally able to enjoy the books they'd bought at Pick's, way back in Coryza. Junella was often parked in a beanbag chair with her novels, but not today. Toby continued on.

He headed towards a spot where he could see a lantern hung. Piffle was indeed wearing perfume. Toby caught a whiff of something that reminded him of strawberry bubble bath.

He heard the pair before he saw them. Piffle's birdlike coo and Zinc's laid-back banter. They'd set up their own enclave among the columns. Toby could see the edges of a red-checkered picnic blanket protruding.

He circled to the closest gap and had to turn his head sideways to squeeze it through. "Hey, I w-" When his eyes opened, he immediately blushed.

They'd finished their picnic lunch quite a while ago. The stained plates and napkins had been kicked to the side and lay in a messy jumble. Zinc was lying on his back using the much-battered-but-still-functional cornucopia as a pillow. His arms were extended up over his head, and he was shirtless. Piffle was nestled in beside him, cozy as a kitten at the hearth. Two of her four arms were draped across his scruffy chest. Both looked perfectly contented.

"Sorry! Sorry, sorry!" Toby tried to back up and bonked his temples against the rock pillars.

Piffle's shoulders jiggled when she chuckled. "Oh you're fine, Toby. We are too."

Zinc creaked an eyelid open. He looked wholly unperturbed. "Heya, chief. Don't let your imagination blush. We wasn't doin' anythin' dirty."

Piffle nodded. "Yup. No horizontal hoochie-koo goin' on around here," she said with a giggle.

Sensing no real awkwardness in his arrival, Toby stepped fully between the rocks and tilted back to lean against them.

Zinc sat up a little. "Not that we didn't start out planning to..." He gave Piffle a toothy grin and nuzzled around her antennae. She squirmed joyfully and pulled herself tighter to him. "We had us a fun li'l picnic. Fed each other grapes 'n like that. I was trying to be romantic at first, but I couldn't get in the mood. I just... wanted to lie here. With my gal." He looked into Piffle's eyes for a moment, in awe of the scope of their shared affection.

The mutt turned back to Toby. "I think I just now figured out why. It was a feeling before. Now I get it. I think, in some way, I knew in my gut that if you hadn'ta un-stuck us, I'd never have this again." He gestured to himself and Piffle. "Just this. Us, together-like. I'm not usually the type to get all cosmic in my thinkworks, but I wanted to, y'know, just be here with her. Bask in the fact that we can."

Piffle didn't need to say a word. She nodded, letting Toby know that Zinc's words spoke for her as well.

Toby was happy for them. Seeing them together like this, it was more clear than ever how perfect they interlocked. At times they could be fun and goofy, but it was good to see how well they meshed even when the moment was quiet. "I'm glad you guys can have that too."

"Thank you, Toby," Piffle said. She dipped her antennae towards him in a motion reminiscent of a grateful bow.

"Same here. Can't ever thank you enough," Zinc said.

"You're welcome." Toby had noticed, though the canine was often sincere, he'd rarely seen him solemn like this. He remembered something. "I'm doubly glad to see you like this because, I'd been meaning to ask, Zinc, how you've been dealing with what Piffle told you about her past."

He looked honestly confused. "What's to get upset about?"

"Well..." Toby turned a little redder. "I mean, about her gender. Um, not always being, what it is, currently."

Piffle didn't even react to that. This had been fully settled between her and her fuzzy junkyard dog. It was a done subject. From her restful reclining pose nestled against Zinc's chest, it was easy to imagine she might slip at any moment into an easy doze.

"Oh that," Zinc said. He turned his head away from the two of them, and his teeth involuntarily showed off a sneer of disgust. Yet Toby knew right away it was not directed at Piffle, nor at himself for asking.

Zinc wriggled a bit on the picnic blanket, reorienting his wrenches. "I thought about that for a while, yeah. I don't mind you askin'. I admit it took me some time to get over it 'n not have the willies. I mean, it is a weird thing to find out about someone. No denying it. Especially someone you're attracted to." He turned his head to look up at the stars and let his gaze wander. "It felt a little like a bad taste in my mouth at first. Reminded me of when she turned into that big red goat monster, you rememmer that?"

Toby nodded.

"But that thought kinda put me in a new frame of mind. I didn't feel any different 'bout her once she came back from that, right? So what changed now? I tried to really ask myself. 'What's different about this,' I says. 'Well for starters, your old crew woulda never let you hear the end of it if they found out. They'd call you queerbait and homo-lips and fag-kisser and all sortsa shit, houndin' me around till the end of time."

He growled, fangs showing again. "And that was what really did it for me. That was what changed my outlook. Y'see, because those guys were assholes. Real nominees for the Dumbfuck Hall Of Heroes. Why would I waste any more of my time caring what THEY think of me? Why would I care what they thought of Piffle? Shit, Toby, I'm glad she'll never meet 'em. I'm glad I'm not runnin' with 'em nomore."

Zinc stretched out one wrench to wrap tenderly around her. He stuffed the tip of the other in his jeans pocket. "The past is dead, Toby," he said with a grunt of finality. "That's the way it should be. We're alive right now, in this tick of the clock right here. Everything else can go sit 'n spin."

Toby nodded, understanding. "I remember telling George something like that."

Piffle giggled musically and kissed her mutt's shoulder. "You told me something else about it, 'member?"

"Oh, yeah." Zinc looked to Toby. "What else I figured was, I'm not what I was back then. And neither is she, y'follow?"

Toby nodded. "You could say that about all of us."

"True. But it's deeper than that. I think I was wearing a mask the whole time I was with my old crew. Bein' like them to fit in. Biting my tongue when they'd go too far. The dope was my own fault: I'll cop to that. They just didn't say boo about it 'cuz it brought in cash we could buy extra beers 'n engine parts with. But I was... well, kind of a pathetic wimp, let's be honest. I wanted someone to like me. Even if it was shitheaps like them. I put up with a hell of a lot that I'm not proud of, Toby."

"I can imagine," the mouse said quietly. "You looked miserable with them."

Zinc shot back a 'you got that right, brother,' look. "And so I realized, it goes both ways. I was wearing a costume to be like them. And Piff, she was too. Who's to say she didn't always look like this on the inside? Who's to say? She told me about feeling lost 'n lonely, never really a hunnert percent happy with herself. How th' hell am I gonna deny that, when I know what it feels like too?" He pulled her closer and kissed her soft lips, as if daring the galaxy to object.

"That's really admirable, Zinc," Toby said earnestly. He looked away from the kiss, feeling his cheeks get warm. "To be perfectly honest, my own reasons weren't as poetic. For one, I kinda wasn't really surprised. It felt like it made sense the more I thought about it. But mostly it was just being too busy planning for Scaphis to waste time being upset over something like this that didn't matter." He instantly winced. "Not to say it didn't matter to you, Piffle."

She chortled, waving away his embarrassment with a paw. "I know what you meant, Toby. And I don't need any fancy reasons from either of you boys. I'm just glad you're as okay with me as I am."

She smiled when she said that. But then there was a flutter of unease. As if she'd remembered a forgotten chore that needed tending to.

Toby noticed the change in her expression. He perked his ears to listen, but when she didn't say anything more, he decided to let her bring it up in her own time. Or not at all if it was personal. When Piffle looked back at Zinc, he saw the pure, loving warmth in her gaze. That eased his mind.

"Were you gonna ask somethin' else, Toby?" Zinc inquired. "You looked like you came in here for a reason. Though if you wanted a snack," he grinned and patted his belly, "you're out of luck in that department."

"No, but thanks for offering. And for reminding me. Piffle?"

She raised her head.

Toby rubbed the back of his neck. "I ran the pigdroid pretty ragged. Do you mind getting it back into shape again?"

She tossed her head and gave a mock-dramatic sigh. "You and that pig, Toby! I do declare, you spend more time with it than any of us!"

He blushed. "Well, I wanted to keep my-"

"I'm just teasing, you silly mouse!" she said with a laugh. "I'll go an' peek at it, don't worry."

He nodded gratefully. "It doesn't have to be right now," he assured. "Just, whenever you get a chance. I get the feeling George's been eager to take its place for some prime time wrestling anyway."

Zinc perked up. "That I would not mind seeing. You 'n him described a helluva scrap at Lalochezia."

"It probably wouldn't be that dramatic. No hot dog carts this time."

Zinc chortled.

Toby looked like he was about to turn and go. "Actually," Piffle piped up, "I'm grateful you've let me work on it. My toymaking is one thing I don't mind keeping from my old life. I'd forgotten how much fun it is to get my hands on a project and make it tick again."

"You'n me are gonna build us some outlandish stuff when we get back to Jennie," Zinc whispered tantalizingly into her fur. She squeaked cutely.

Seeing them so snuggly elevated Toby's mood. "You're welcome, Piffle. That was exactly why I wanted your help. I could tell you really enjoyed your old job."

She nodded, antennae bobbing. "It's nice to feel useful," she said. And then there was that same pang of remembrance again.

Toby cocked his head, curious if she'd follow it up. She looked like she wanted to. But the little hamsterfly was keeping her lips shut for now. "I guess then I'll just go. I'll busy myself somehow. Leave you two to be close. I'm happy for the both of you, I really am."

"Yer a true gentleman's gentleman," Zinc said. "If it were me, I'd be jealous as hell. What red-blooded American boy could resist a knockout dame like this?" He chucked Piffle gently on the chin and she tittered.

'I think they're gonna be fine,' Toby thought to himself. He stepped back between the pillars and squeezed his head through, leaving them to their canoodling.

"Some kinda lucky..." Zinc said fondly. He let Piffle's angelic golden fur brush through the grooves of his wrench-jaw. The little tufts reminded him of a wheat field.

He was so lost in this image that it took him a moment to realize Piffle was still staring at where Toby had been. "Piff? Babe?"

She kept staring, as if every step the mouse took was paining her heart by degrees. Her shoulders suddenly hunched resolutely. "Zinc, sweetiepie, I'm sorry. I know we were having a special moment, but there's something I have to tell him."

"Can't say I'm not disappointed. You're awful fun to cuddle with."

She gave him a beautiful smile. She touched her nose to his, then started to stand up. "I won't be long."

Zinc was confused by her sudden change, and briefly felt a flash of jealousy. But no, she was not about to go run off and tell Toby her heart secretly beat for him. This was something important. "You'll tell me later what's eatin' ya? I want you to be happy, y'know."

"Of course you do," she said, and patted his wrench-fingers. "I'll be back soon. Don't fret."

"Allright, babe." He was still a bit perplexed, and a bit worried, but also confident that, if she needed him to deal with these troubles at her side, she would have asked. He let her go.

She stepped over him, light-footed as always despite her adorable roly-polyness. She took a wing-buzzing hop and sailed over the rocks.

Zinc let his head sink back against the cornucopia. "Shoot. What am I gonna do with myself now?" He got an idea and reached beneath his head. "Do you have a hotdog for me? Oh yes it feels like you do." With no Piffle around to feed his senses, some mustard, onions, and relish would do for the moment.

***

Piffle didn't have far to catch up. Toby had not hurried.

His ears caught the sound of fluttering. "Hm?"

Piffle landed next to him and tucked her wings neatly at her back. She clasped her pairs of hands in front of her tummy, looking contrite. She bit her lip.

Toby waited for her to speak. She seemed to be having a difficult time of it. "Did you want to ask me something else?"

She shook her head. "I lied, Toby."

He blinked in surprise. "About what?"

Piffle looked down at the dirt and kicked away a grey pebble. "Um, I spose it's not exactly that I told a lie. More like I didn't speak my mind when I meant to. I held back. I didn't know how to say it. Still don't, to be honest. Ha ha. But I guess it's not the most important thing anyone's ever said. It's just-"

"You're babbling," Toby told her gently.

She met his eyes. His tone had conveyed he'd be accepting of whatever it was. She was reminded again of why she cared so much for him, and why this hurt so much to say. "You're right. I'm stalling like an old rustbucket engine. It's something that's been on my mind these last few days."

"You're still not saying what it is," he teased.

A soft giggle. That was good, it helped shake the words loose. "I..." She paused to take a deep breath, then let it out. "Toby, do you really need me around anymore?"

The question was so unexpected he actually took a couple steps back. "Excuse me?"

Piffle took two steps too. "Just what I asked. Do you need me? Not just to fix your silly ol' pig. I mean..." She crimped the hem of her dress in her paws. "I mean, at all."

Toby immediately put his paws on her shoulders. "Of course I do! How can you ask that!?"

A trace of tears reflected starlight. "Like I said, it's been on my mind for a while now. Ever since you woke us up. Ever since I saw the new you, Toby. You've changed."

He searched her face for clues. This was not adding up for him. "I guess so. And?"

"And I know you've got this great big plan for Doll-" She shook her head. "Scaphis. And you've got Zinc and Junella. They're both heavyweight champs at fighting, and you're amazing now too. I watch you fight that pig and you move like lightning! You're incredible!"

He tried not to look away at the compliment. "Th-thanks."

She smiled at the modesty he just couldn't get rid of, then reached up to bring his paws down into hers. Her fingers kneaded his palms in little circles. "You've changed so much. And that made me start thinkin'... I guess, when we first met, I saw someone I could help. Someone scared. Someone needed a friend, and a guide. You sure don't need anyone to guide you anymore, Toby. You don't need anyone to," her throat hitched, "babysit you."

So that was it. "Aw geez, Piffle. Is that what you think you were to me?"

She nodded.

"At first, absolutely! I needed a babysitter! Christ, I was useless."

"That's my dilemma," she said. "You're not now. So what d'you need silly little me for? Toby... you're all grown up. And if you're going to go off 'n confront her, what could I do to help?"

She wasn't asking for suggestions; she legitimately couldn't see any way to contribute. "Oh Piffle," Toby said sadly. "I can't believe you're worrying about this." He stroked her paws and straightened his posture. "Listen to me. You are more than just my babysitter. You've always been. What was the other thing you said you were to me? My friend. God, I need that. Against a world this ugly, of course I need that."

She nodded, then sniffed. "That part, I understand. I'm proud to be your friend, Toby. And I'm so happy you're mine too. But the army doesn't need friends. The marines don't need pals. They need fighters. And-"

He stopped her before she could continue that thought. "And you're not? Piffle, have you forgotten all the times you helped out in all the insanity we got into along the way here? The convorines? Rither? The biteranodons! You turned into a giant and were batting them out of the air with that fork of yours!"

Somehow that only seemed to make her sadder. "I know! But you said it yourself. When Junella asked me to get a weapon, I got a big dumb goofy golden fork. Because it made me laugh. She was right to read me the riot act over that. I don't have a mind for tactics. I..."

She gripped Toby's paws tighter. "Zinc 'n me talked a lot about who we used to be in our old lives. I've done a lot of thinking. And remembering. I remember when he sat me down and told me I couldn't keep on jumpin' out of the car to go off getting changed all willy-nilly. I had other people to consider. I was being irresponsible. But in my old life, I was plenty responsible. I had a job I kept for forty years. I had a marriage I made work for even longer somehow. I paid my bills on time and kept us out of debt. What happened to me?"

Toby wasn't sure if she was literally asking him. "I don't know."

She shook her head. "I figured out why. Because Zinc was right: this has always been inside me all along." She swept her other hands along her pink safari outfit. "Being a boy or girl didn't really matter so much to me. What I always was at heart was young. I was a good provider and a good husband, but I always woke up feeling like I'd gotten lost and walked into the wrong furson's life somehow.

"When I got here, I assumed I was in a long dream. When I didn't die, no matter how many times I got lunch-n-dinnered, that just made me even more sure. But I got transformed too. And maybe that was me easing my real self along without knowing it. How else to explain how I ended up like this? Just by chance? Without ever being able to say it, even to myself, I ended up exactly like what I'd always wanted to see in the mirror. Young and small, and cute, and pretty." She bit her lip. "I was in a nightmare, but it was also my best dream ever. That was why it was so easy to forget, Toby. To just let it all drift away and be Piffle. I found Billawhi in the woods, all covered in mushrooms, and now I realize I kinda forced on her the fantasy of being a little lost girl in the forest. She was protective of me, yes, but she wasn't my mother. I regret making her be that without ever really asking her."

Toby dumbfounded a tissue to wipe her eyes with, and she did. "Thank you for telling me all this, Piffle. I understand how it'd weigh on you. I've actually felt a lot of what you're saying myself."

Her antennae perked.

"Worrying that I was just roping you and the others into taking care of me. Worrying that my real desire was just a selfish need to get back to a life without any expectations on me." This time he squeezed her paws. "But like Zinc said, the past is gone. We can be different now. All of us. And recognizing what you were, that's the best first step. I was a coward. I'm not anymore. I made that choice."

"Thanks, Toby," she said softly. "I don't want to be a dimwit anymore either. Flutterin' around going 'la la la', letting whatever come what may. I want to be by your side when you march forward. I just don't know how."

"You want to know how?" Toby had held back on giving them much info about his plan for Scaphis. He wanted this to be time for re-finding themselves. The exact kind of thinking Piffle was doing now. He didn't want their minds overflowing with battle strategies like his was. But for right now, he thought Piffle could use a small preview. "How about this. You are going to be responsible for all of us out there."

A weak, self-deprecating chuckle. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea."

"Nonsense. For starters, you're our reason for fighting. A world without Piffle's smile is not a world worth living in."

At that she immediately blushed and giggled. "Oh, you kid!"

He was not smiling. "I mean it. But not just yours. I'm not trying to flatter you. Piffle, you represent everything good and kind and bearable about this place. I'm sure there's lots of Piffles out there. In Coryza, in Ectopia Cordis. I met some, in Lalochezia and Scarlatina. I want us to go visit there someday after this is all over. That means I want it to still be there. I want there to still be Piffles out there, smiling to help others smile. This world could be nothing but Dysphoria, and it's not, because people out there have people like you."

Piffle was crying again, but this time her eyes were wide and shining with disbelief at such a beautiful notion. She had never dreamt that her silliness could actually be important.

"You're our morale officer," Toby told her, with the solemnity of a general issuing ranks. "We need your indomitable will to keep our spirits up. Because I'm dead sure there'll be moments when it's gonna seem hopeless. We will need to see you cheering us on."

"Like beating a drum, or waving a banner," she said.

"Exactly. And don't dismiss your fighting skills either. You're right that Junella's better at kicking ass. Zinc's a demigod of destruction. And I'm getting pretty allright myself. But you, Piffle, have an asset that is always useful in war, and it's precisely because you're not a conventional fighter."

Her antennae perked up. "Whazzat?"

"You have a Fort Knox of willpower to make insane things happen. Do you think those biteranodons could have ever predicted a fork-wielding giant hamsterfly?"

She began to see his point. "You can't prepare for what you can't see coming."

He nodded, glad to see she was taking this to heart. And now he stepped closer and drew her eyes to his, looking grim and making sure she understood that this was the most important part. "But everything I just said is secondary. It's all important, but it's pep-talk-stuff. You want real responsibility? Piffle, I need you because you're our best flyer. You are going to be our air support."

Her expression showed that the idea both intrigued and scared her. "But George-"

"George is going to be busy," Toby said with cryptic finality. "That leaves you. We don't just need your smile and your will, we need your wings. And your aim, too. Because I need you for something very, very specific. Two things, actually."

"What are they?" Piffle asked breathlessly. Toby was clutching her hands a little too tight now. He looked like he did not want to be putting this burden on her, yet knew it was necessary for all of their sakes.

"First. When we're fighting her, and an empty hand raises up, I need you to be there to fly down and fill it with a weapon. You can dumbfound anything, Piffle. You know how we fight and you'll know what we need."

"I can do that," she said resolutely.

"The other thing is..." He sighed. This was unpleasant. "I'm actually really glad you grew those other arms. Two for dumbfounding, and two to hold a rifle."

"I'm not the best with those," she admitted.

"Whatever you are best at, whether it's a laser cannon or a slingshot, you'll need it. So you can blow our brains out at a moment's notice."

Piffle gasped.

"What's the most obvious thing she'll do? Try and catch us and paralyze us like she did before. You, Piffle, have to dodge around and evade her, all while killing any of us who get caught."

"So we'll pop back to life, uncaught!"

"You got it. If she tries to torture us, boom: bullet to the head. If she tries to fling us into space, boom: bullet to the head. You have got to be sharp and fast. You have got to keep us safe and uncaught so we can keep on fighting till it's all over and done. That's what I need you for. Can you do that, Piffle?"

"Yes, Toby!!" she shouted, and gave him a joyfully overwhelmed salute. She'd be like a mother hen, circling the skies to keep her brood safe. Hot dog, that idea appealed to her! It'd be a doozy of an assignment, but to know Toby had such faith in her meant the world. She had admitted turning her back on reality and slipping into a happy-go-lucky dream, admitted letting her own life slide away from her memory so she could frolic in eternal childhood... Even after all that, he was willing to put his trust in her. "I'll do it, I'll do it, I'll do it."

"I know I can count on you," he said.

That broke the dam. Piffle could not hold off hugging him any longer. Though she was careful this time not to squeeze the wind out of him. It was a gentle hug. A grownup hug. "Thank you, Toby. I really was lost. I really did feel like you guys didn't need me anymore."

Another thought occurred. "Hey, no matter what else, Zinc needs you."

She nodded, cheekfur rustling against his. "That too. And I'm gonna go run back and tell him all about this. But first, Toby, you wanna hear a secret?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Sure."

Piffle stood on tiptoes to whisper feather-soft into his ear: "You're as good a morale officer as I am. Maybe even better."

And before the mouse knew what had hit him, she gave him a huge smooch on the cheek and fluttered off, her wings blowing his fur back.

Toby stood for a moment, pleasantly stunned.

***

He thought that maybe he should go see Junella next. See if maybe he could play morale officer for her too.

He checked the main camp first. Still no skunk paws poking up from the beanbag chair. George was practicing with his own wings overhead, challenging himself with tight banks and tailspins. When Toby called out, the stallion circled low and directed his master to the west where a strange tower had sprung up since the morning's breakfast. Toby thanked him and, still feeling buoyant from being around Piffle, leapt straight up and managed to high-five a hoof. George was highly amused by this. He soared straight up and showed off a triple rollercoaster loop.

Toby set off for the west. If he squinted he could see something out there, but it did not contrast well against the black of the constant universe. Along the way he broke off a chunk from a pillar and turned it into a side of french fries.

As luck would have it, he finished the last of them just as he reached the base of the spiral staircase.

It stood in the middle of another bare patch of pillarless grey dirt, like his arena. She'd been building. Toby craned his neck. Like a wrought iron model of Ectopia Cordis, the tower stretched upwards thirty feet or so. At the very top, he could just make out a platform, and a small coiled shadow sitting there.

The staircase was ornate as a balcony, but painted matte black. The steps were narrow and patterned with curling floral shapes. Toby held onto the railing and gave the first step a testing kick. The whole structure vibrated with a tone that worked shivers up his fur.

Completely on a whim, Toby decided to challenge himself. Instead of going up the easy way, he hefted himself onto the twining rail and started climbing the outside.

At the top, a panting Toby finally pulled himself over the side onto the small square platform (which was a perfect size for two fursons to sit together). He eased down beside Junella with his legs dangling over. A glance at the edge made him clamp cautiously to the railing. His worry was that a fall from this height might not actually kill him. Plunging off the cliff at Scarlatina had been a sure thing. This might leave him in another pleading heap, this time with no George around to stomp him goodnight.

A skunkette looked up from her solitude with blue eyes and said, "Showoff."

"Dunno what got into me," he told her. "Piffle, I guess. I just got done having a good talk with her about her role in the group."

The skunk sat with one leg over the side, tail threaded between the railing, other knee up and arms wrapped around it. Her head rested against her wrist. "Perpetual pain in my ass, you mean?" she said with a mean little smile.

Toby rolled his eyes at her. "Actually, her role in keeping you and me from taking ourselves too seriously. And also, when we get into our fight, I want her flying above and popping our heads off if we get stuck in trouble." He mimed shooting a sniper rifle at a faraway target.

"Smart," Junella admitted.

"I like your staircase."

A twitch of her lip. "I saw it in my dream last night. Figured It'd be something to do to keep my hands busy and my mind blank. It's a nice place for stargazing, I guess."

Toby looked at her. Specifically her mouth, now full of pink tongue and white teeth instead of a black vinyl funnel all the way down. "Y'know, it's still weird hearing you talk. I got used to you using your finger needles. Always sounding like a radio being switched to different stations."

She smirked. "You think you're not used to it! It's still spooky hearing my regular voice, comin' outta my skull instead of my skin." She shrugged in a 'what's done is done' way. "But I figgered, I'm gonna need my hands free for battle. Speaking like that was an affectation. One I could've, and should've, tossed out a long time ago."

"I liked your singing voice," Toby said sincerely.

She smiled lopsidedly at him. She ran her finger along her left shoulder: "Well that's very nice of you to say, pipsqueak."

He brightened. "You can still do it!"

"If I want to," she clarified. "And that's the important part. I didn't have a choice before. Or rather, I didn't give myself one. I understand now. I could've changed that part of me back at any time. Might've not even needed a potion for it. Maybe just will. I think I kept it around on purpose, for it to get in my way and annoy me."

Toby cocked his head, confused.

Junella sighed and looked down at the acres of rock-spires. "When you grow up angry, angry starts feeling normal. You start gettin' nervous without it. You start finding ways to keep yourself angry when you don't need to be, just so you can feel like yourself. I ain't never been a junkie or an alcoholic, but I can imagine there's similarities."

Toby got quiet. He leaned back against the twisting rail. He wondered if maybe her comparison applied to fear as well.

"I been walking myself through my past over the last coupla days. Seein' things different. I realize now, I've spent a hell of a lot of my Phobiopolis life keeping myself mad. Being stubborn. Mouthing off. Lookin' for aggravation 'n then rubbing my face right in it. Always acting like it was someone else's fault. That's another thing different about us, Toby," she said, pulling her scarf a little tighter around her shoulders. "You always want the fight to end. I always want one to start."

Even though there was no air here, Toby swore he could feel a wind caress its chill fingers along his backfur. Maybe that wasn't a hallucination. The end of Junella's scarf was fluttering. "I think that's a good description of us."

If she heard him, she didn't show it. Her eyes were unfocused. Likely watching a mind movie of Past Junella's Irritation Highlights.

Toby looked out across the greyness. He spotted the round carpet, looking like a dot of spilled red wine on cement. He could see George darting around like a trained circus fly. He could even, if he squinted, make out the tiny speck of color where Zinc and Piffle were still cuddled together. He guessed they had lots to talk about.

"It's a nice view up here," he said.

"Yeah," Junella agreed. She traced her finger along the designs in the platform. "It came out pretty nice. Based off something I used to climb on at an old park a coupla blocks down the street from our building. Not everything from back then was a bad memory." She flicked a finger at where Zinc and Piffle were. "How're they doin'?"

"Them? Oh, fine," he said without hesitation. "We've all been through a lot, but they're the best medicine for each other. They're gonna be allright."

"Good, good," Junella said, nodding. "To 'fess up, I didn't just come up here to sightsee. I've been avoiding them."

Toby had the feeling that they were about to start wading into the deep conversation they'd so far been dipping toes in. He made himself more comfortable. Without judgment, he asked, "Why's that?" No pressure, just letting her know he was ready to hear her.

Junella's crystal cobalt eyes looked out across the distance. "Guilt," she said simply. "And yeah, some of it's jus' wanting them to have time alone to be all lovey-dovey. But more than that... Zinc told me about his old gang. I'm not sure he sees the parallels. But right away, I had to ask myself if he, on a subconscious level, was trying to find the same kind of relationship when he partnered up with me."

"He obviously likes being with other people," Toby said.

Junella shook her head twice, quickly. "No. I meant like, the way he talked about that King sonofabitch barking him around. Treating him mean. Like a slave."

Toby frowned. "You can't think you're anything like that to him."

She fixed him a look that said, 'maybe I do'.

Toby would not allow her to believe that. "Junella, I saw firsthand how he treated Zinc. You two might bicker, and you might tease him a lot, but I've never seen you be sadistic to him just because you could. I've never seen you show the... the contempt that guy had. The glee of having someone around who'll do anything you ask, and abusing that for fun."

Junella listened to all this with quiet acknowledgment. "I can't say I was never like that."

"Then you were," Toby tossed back. "We had a talk about 'then' and 'now' remember? I think Zinc did see the parallels, and he didn't say anything because he didn't want you to mope like you're doing now. And because you're not that asshole husky!" He saw the next thing she was about to say and wasn't about to allow it. "And you're not that spoiled brat from your old bedroom either!"

For a second she looked wrathfully offended. She stiffened. The record shards in her tail clattered like a rattlesnake's. Then, just as abruptly, she slumped back down and looked defeated. "Stop being good at this, Toby. Can't you just let me get away with some good solid melancholy once in a while?" she teased, showing a hint of an appreciative smile.

"Actually, I don't think I can, no," he responded frankly. "Remember me right after Dysphoria?"

She nodded. "You got into some industrial-strength apathy back there."

"Exactly. And you pulled me out. You and the others stood up to me when I was lying to myself, and I'm glad you did. It felt terrible. And it was pointless."

She chuckled bittersweetly. "Pointless? Maybe, maybe not. Maybe sometimes you gotta go low so you'll understand what it really feels like. Keep you from heading back. But that's not the point." She clapped her paws on both knees. "No point denying it. That little brat in the apartment is exactly what this is all about. And Toby, don't think I don't I appreciate the pep-up you gave me before. But..." She chewed her lip. "My hatred goes hard and deep. We're talking years. A lifetime. I'm not gonna get over it so easy."

Toby looked down at the space between them and nodded pensively. "That's allright. People don't just magically get better the moment they want to."

She was grateful to him for not arguing with her on that. "I can't stop thinking about her and Zinc. All my worst moments bein' a shithead to him. My best friend. And the more I didn't want to, the more I'd catch myself doing it. Saying things I didn't mean, doin' things he didn't deserve. It's like..." A deep breath. "When you hate something that much, it's like it's always on your horizon. You try to run away from it, and you run hard and you run hard, then you look up and somehow you've switched and you're running towards it instead."

"That's very wise."

"I ain't tryna write poetry. I'm just trying to figure my life out. It's difficult. I keep seein' paradoxes. I hated my old self, but ended up letting her in. I acted fearless to the world, while inside she still scared me." She snorted. "I guess that's why, when I got this full-body wax treatment, I never changed back." She turned her arm side-to-side, letting it catch the moonlight. "I could have, sure. Normally I'd get rid of transformations like a dog shaking off water. But I kept this one. Partly the look, yeah."

Toby made a 'no disagreement' gesture.

"But maybe also, 'cause it made me feel like this was breaking off my old life. Maybe I was glad for the change because there wasn't nothing of the original me I was keen on keepin'..."

Toby noticed her voice gradually quieting as she spoke. Withering. "I can't imagine there was nothing of her that was worthwhile. I mean, she turned into you."

Junella initially bristled at how sentimentally sappy that felt. She was about to reply with sarcasm. But that was something Toby didn't deserve. She was just talking about that impulse. He'd meant it sincerely, as he meant almost everything. "Thanks."

A sudden good idea tapped him on the shoulder. "Have you talked much with Lady Xenoiko?"

That seemed like a non sequitur. She cocked her head. "When I'm in town, yeah. We pass information. Work talk."

"I meant about this."

A slight tilt of the head. "Haven't had time to. All this crap came mudslidin' down my slope just in the last few evenings."

"Well then, sometime afterwards. I think you should. She used to be, to put it bluntly, evil. And she got over it. She's happy now with a husband who loves the hell out of her. If anyone'll know what you're going through, it's her."

Junella blinked. "That's... I hadn't considered that. I think I will."

"Good." He suddenly scooted himself into a new position, side by side with her. "And if this takes a long time for you to work out, then that's allright. I'll keep helping you. I'll keep listening when you need me to."

Junella was surprised, then grinned sweetly and threw an arm around the mouse. "Goddamn, Toby. You just won't let me be a lost cause up here in peace, will you? I was working on a perfect deep blue funk, and you hadda come along and ruin it."

"Dunno how or when, but it seems like I've somehow gotten good lately at making people happy," he said.

She poked him with her knee. "Pity party pooper."

He shrugged: 'that's me.' "So what's, like, the core of this, do you think? What's the part that's clinging on that you can't let go of?"

She tipped her head towards the stars and sighed lengthily. "Christ, where to start!? I'm afraid to go to sleep, thinkin' I'm gonna wake up back there again and it's gonna be Sunday afternoon forever. I can't stop going over the old memories. Running through them like a tape on repeat. I can't stop second-guessing everything I do now. 'Am I like this 'cause of her? Am I like THIS 'cause of her?' All that neurotic, go-see-a-shrink type bullshit."

"You aren't her. She's gone," Toby said reassuringly. And, wondering if this might go too far, but thinking it might be just right, he added, "She's dead."

"Ding dong," Junella agreed. She rubbed her face in her palms (the motion made a perfect DJ scratch). "Rrrrrrrrgh! Toby, you know what the worst part of this is? I know I oughtta be over this! I got my head settled fine, but my guts won't fucking listen. I know it's over. I believe you when you said I'm different now, and thank you yet again for that."

"You're welcome."

"It's just..." She let her head collapse against her scarf. She rubbed her cheek on its calming softness. "I worry it's become a habit, obsessing over her. I was doing it without realizing it for so long, it got ingrained on me like my grooves. How do I get that part of me erased?"

"Maybe you don't need to," Toby suggested. "I'm not happy with who I was either, but at some point I just shrugged and said, 'oh well'." He thought of something else. "And I don't think of Past Me as a separate furson either. I noticed you do that. Maybe that makes her more like a ghost following you."

"Could be," she acknowledged. And her eyes opened wider the more she juggled the thought around and saw how well it fit. She took a second to squint at Toby. It wasn't long ago she was giving him advice. Now here he was volunteering as her damn therapist. And doing a decent job of it too.

Out of the blue she remembered watching him fight that crazy-ass pig contraption he'd made. His new fighting style was elegantly deadly. Avoid, avoid, avoid, avoid, avoid, avoid, KILLSHOT. He'd twirl around like a ballet dancer, keeping out of its way until the opportunity presented itself to end the fight in one fell swoop. He showed the same strategy the few times she'd sparred with him. It was damned hard to deal with, even when she was expecting it. One time he'd even lured her into thinking she'd won by skewering him on her cutlass. It was all to get in close enough to pulverize her gun hand with his hammer, then, in the moment where she was stunned by his deception, another hammer took her face clean off.

Junella had walked away from that match with a backpat and an offhand joke about how if they kept this up, he'd rack up more wins than losses against her. But it wasn't a joke. Somewhere along the line he'd become her equal. She stopped these little contests with him because she didn't want to reach the point where the numbers proved it.

It would have been something she could have discussed with Piffle. Seeing her milksop client grow so fast he was now within inches of surpassing her, what did that make her now? When would she stop being of any use to him?

Toby did not sense these thoughts cross her face. He thought her simmering quiet was due to dwelling on her past. He stayed close silently, letting her arm stay perched on his shoulder. Ready to listen whenever she began again.

Seeing that, she decided. 'I can't tell him about this.' It was not a selfish or cowardly decision. It was an acknowledgment that her fears of inadequacy were her own damn problem, not his. And it was precisely because he didn't know- or care!- how much more powerful he had become that she had to keep mum. He was in no way trying to be better than her. He was still soft-spoken and humble and a little clumsy and easily-embarrassed. Most of the old Toby was gone, yeah. But he'd clearly made more peace with his past than she had. And grown stronger.

"Toby, d'you mind if I make a little confession?" This was something she had not planned to bring up, but right now, it felt like the honest thing to do.

"Sure," he said, then guessed, "You aren't having second thoughts about fighting Scaphis, are you?"

"Fuck no!" came the immediate reply. "Gimme a broken bottle and a pointy stick and I'll go after her cheap ass right this second!"

That was an expected response. "Good," Toby said simply. "But yes, I'm okay with whatever you want to tell me."

She lifted her head to give him a good long look at her sapphire eyes. "Toby, how upset would you be with me if these went away?"

That, however, was entirely unexpected. "Um. A little? Maybe? I don't really know. I thought you liked them."

She shook her head, like the jig was up. "I don't. I gotta be honest. I made a big deal out of getting them back, and at first I really did think they looked dynamite. Brilliant baby blues. After a while though... I kept mindfuckin' up mirrors to look at myself, and the experience went sour." She turned to face him. "I can't keep this up, Toby. They remind me too much of her." She blinked. "...Me," she amended.

Toby nodded. He patted the back of her hand. "I can understand that. But if you want to change back, it's your own body. You don't have to ask my permission."

She seemed dumbfounded at this. "Toby, I changed them as... as basically a gift to you! Because you said you liked them. Because you did your best to help me feel better about 'em."

It started to make more sense to him now. "I do like how they look. Sure. But I liked your old record-label-eyes too. Just like how I like your vinyl, and your scarf, and your new head-shard-thingies."

She chuckled. "Thanks. I'm keepin' those."

Toby squeezed her paw and said firmly, "I like them because they're yours, Junella."

She smiled. Then she rested her forehead against his. "If it was anyone else sayin' that, it'd sound like the phoniest bullshit pickup line in history. But I can trust it coming out of you, Toby. Because you're so honest you make me flinch sometimes. I envy that about you."

"It is true," he confirmed, taking the subject back to her.

She nodded, then leaned back against the iron rail. "I debated over this. I didn't want to feel like some two-face. Stealing back what I gave you outta gratitude."

"If it makes you feel better, I'd never see it that way."

"Hey, sometimes we spin wild fantasies in our heads of how other people'll think about us," she said with a snort. "Doesn't mean they got anything to do with reality. But they can still mess your heart up."

At that he nodded. "Okay."

"So, yeah... Every time I looked at myself, I saw a ghost's eyes looking back. It started giving me the creeps. But I didn't want to give in and switch back. It's like they were a promise to you, Toby. That I was okay with myself. But I wasn't. I'm not."

Toby understood. Though he didn't want to just say for the thousandth time that she didn't have to feel bad about her past anymore. He mused a bit until a new idea occurred. "Do you know what I saw in your old eyes?" he asked.

"What'd you see, Toby?"

He looked into her blues, remembering back when they were harvest moon orange. "They were distinctive. Like no one else's. They looked fierce. Those spindle-hole pupils always had this look of intense focus. Like you were just about to pounce and kill."

"I guess," she said. This was actually making her feel a bit worse. The on-the-warpath look would've suited her young self a lot better than blue.

"They looked merciless," Toby said.

Junella said nothing to this, but gazed past the edge of the stairs.

As if an afterthought, Toby tossed off, "I mean, you think she deserves any mercy?"

That got her head to pop back up.

"You know exactly who I mean. I don't even need to say it. We're going to bring all-out war to her soon. Do you want to be looking at her with beautiful eyes, or merciless ones?"

Junella began to smile a little.

"I don't think she deserves anything but you at your worst. That's what I want you to unleash. I think, that if you still feel some conflict about your past, that's okay. That's understandable. But we need hellcat Junella. We need the most fearless furson in Phobiopolis. We need you to kick her a new butthole. So if you're having problems running away from Past You, maybe the solution is to just know when to let her have the driver's seat. Because right now, a complete psychopath would be really damn helpful to us."

The smile became an outright grin.

"You know what?" Toby had another thought. "I'm glad you want to change back. The more I think about it, I'm glad your blue eyes are something only we'll see. Your best friends. She doesn't deserve a secret like that, right? Screw her! Isn't it better, just keeping it among us? Doesn't that make it cooler?"

"I think you might be onto something, mouse," she replied, and her voice cracked a little.

He checked, making sure this was doing the good he hoped it would. Her smile was encouraging.

"I keep saying 'thank you'. I'm starting to sound like I got a stuck needle. But you keep earning my gratitude, dammit." She scratched her temple, trying to hide the tears she was brushing away. "What you said about letting her in sometimes, maybe you've got a point. That's always been my worst fear. But what the hell good has it done me so far?"

Toby could definitely nod in agreement with that. "All the fears I got over, it only happened when I just closed my eyes, braced myself and let them happen. Hiding never made me stronger. Being afraid never made fear easier to deal with."

"You got that right." An idea sparked. "I think maybe... Let's admit it Toby, I'm pretty good at violence. Might even call myself an artist," she smirked.

"That's fair," he said earnestly.

"That's one thing I'm glad I got from her. Damn useful skill. And I guess..." She trailed off. Like many profound truths, the thought that struck her next was one she'd known for years, but had never grasped the full breadth of. "I guess the big difference between me and her is who we turn it on. She craved to hurt the helpless. I want to hurt assholes. Maybe I wouldn't care about justice so much without having seen it from both sides. Maybe running from my old self gave me something to run towards."

He patted her paw, proud of her for this insight. "Absolutely. Junella, you care about injustice more than anyone I've ever met. Possibly excluding Luxy."

She gave him an 'I'm not gonna argue with that' expression.

Toby's eyes traced the curve of her scarf, along her side to her arm, and to the hand his was placed on top of. "Part of why I care about you is your passion for fairness. You and I had that talk about not thinking the world's as simple as a comic book. About doing things that might feel bad because they need to be done by someone. That's really stuck with me."

She turned her hand upwards to curl her fingers around his.

"You taught me that anger isn't bad. Even violence isn't. You're angry with a conscience, Junella. You get mad at injustice and torture and cruelty. Things a furson should be angry at."

"I try to, yes. I try to walk that line of what's justified."

"I think you do a good job of it. So, if you keep on feeling conflicted, like if you don't know whether you're too much like your old self, you can always ask me. I'll help you decide if you need me to. But I don't even think you need that. I think you've been doing fine on your own for a long time before we even met."

Junella looked down affectionately at their two hands intertwined. White fur and black vinyl. Like yin and yang. "If you say so, Toby. But it does get easier when I have you to think of."

He nodded. "Happy to help."

She scratched one finger-needle across the back of his hand, feather-gently.

"So..." Toby asked, "do you want to switch back now? Show me your eyes again?"

God, she liked how he said that! Hers. Maybe it wasn't so terrible thinking of past and present Junella as two different people. Maybe she could think of her old self as the one still trapped in that bedroom, while she was the one who was free. The one on the outside, with people that made travel and fighting and pain worthwhile. Baby Junella was still thinking up rotten little revenge plans for her classmates, still dreaming up ways to make Daddy and Mommy jump. Stuck in the past, where she belonged.

She closed her eyes. "If it's allright with you Toby, I think I will."

"It is."

She sighed and concentrated. Reaching out, she felt around until she found his other hand, then brought both paws up to place them on the sides of her face. "I'm thinking I might need some of your magic rubbing off, to pull this off without a potion."

It felt nice, her hands holding his. He'd always liked the sensation of her grooved surfaces. "I'm not magic," he said.

"Whatever you wanna call it, you're the guy who flew across Dysphoria on a nightmare and yanked us outta Scaphis' castle on a pure nerdy rules-fucking. I need summa that."

"Fair enough," he agreed. He tried to calm his heart and flow some of his will into her hands.

Junella took deep breaths. "This isn't me running away," she told him, as well as herself. "I'm not turning my back on these eyes just because they're hers and they hurt to look at. I am consciously rejecting them. I'm saying I am someone new now, and I don't need her around anymore. She can stay in my memory. I can call on her in hot moments when she's needed, but that's all. This is my car and I'm the one driving."

"They were nice while they lasted, but that sounds pretty good," Toby told her.

Slowly, Junella opened her eyes.

Toby smiled to see that first trace of orange. Her familiar record labels emerged like two suns on the horizon.

She blinked. Rolled her orbs around a bit, as if trying to see them. "Are they back? Did it work?"

Toby nodded. "Perfectly."

She exhaled, shivering in relief. "Good. I don't even need a mirror, I trust you. Just hearing you say that makes me feel, I don't know, more at home."

Toby's hands dropped down from her face to her shoulders. "If you really do want to give me a gift, then be happy with yourself, Junella. That's all I want."

She grinned. "I think I can handle that." Then she raised her brows to show off her new optics. "By the way, did I ever let you read 'em?"

Toby squinted. "Oh right, there is tiny writing on there! No, I don't think I ever quite got that close. Plus, they keep moving."

"Here then. I'll keep still and you lean in. I wanna know if they still say the same thing. That, and I like the idea of you and me having another good secret between us."

"I like that idea too," he said, and leaned in. Though he suddenly stiffened. "Um, is this a trick to kiss me again?"

She chortled. "I hadn't considered that, mouse. Now the idea's in my head, so I guess you'll just have to risk it."

"I guess I will," Toby said. He got as close to Junella as he could. He made his eyes refocus on the tiny black print.

She was trying her best to keep her gaze relaxed, but anyone's eyes can't help twitching a bit. Toby was lucky in that both irises read the same, so he could compare between them.

"Dauntless Records, inc." he read. "Never Let Myself Lose, by Junella Fucking Brox."

She grinned like the Cheshire cat. That was exactly what the mirror had always shown before. "You betcher tail I don't."

Toby laughed. "So your middle name is literally 'Fucking'?"

"This surprises you?" she said with a shrug.

"It fits you incredibly well, actually. Every word of it," Toby said. Then he playfully ducked out of kissing range.

She noticed, and played like he'd been too fast for her. Truth was, she knew it wasn't the right time yet. They had other matters to attend to first.

Toby gave her a hug. "They really do look good on you. I mean it. It was a gorgeous blue, but to be honest, black, white, and a dash of orange is a stronger color combination."

"Like Halloween," she added. "But that's okay. I'm a Halloween kinda cat."

Toby squeezed softly. "Absolutely."

He turned and looked down at the miniature world below. Junella really had made a perfect place for sitting and thinking heavy thoughts. He sighed. He felt good. Better even than after meeting with Piffle. But still, that was a tiny chunk out of the colossal weight of what they would soon be forced to commit themselves to.

Nearly all the tension had melted out of Junella's posture, compared to the tight knot she'd been before. Though she looked across and noticed that, even with his own mood lightened too, Toby's shoulders were still tight. His brow was still creased. And something else. Something that had remained unchanged ever since he'd come back for her. "Hey. Mouse."

He'd been drifting into his own thoughts again. "Huh?"

She gave him a very gentle smile, not sure how he'd react to this. "I'm kinda in the mood to return a favor. I've got something I could tell you about a certain rodent. Something to prove you're not the only motherfucker 'round here capable of crappin' out deep psychological observations."

He snorted. "You are unladylike," he teased.

"You just noticed?" she kidded. "Seriously though. It's a pattern you've been keeping all this time. I started picking up on it before we even left my apartment. It's been consistent for days. But you broke it just now."

She was looking at him like there was a big hunk of broccoli between his buck teeth. "What, exactly?"

Her eyes lit up. "You haven't noticed! Holy shit! Toby The Great Observer actually let this one slip by!"

He started looking down all over his vest, fur, and shorts. "What, what!?"

A needle-tipped finger angled his chin up to sync their gazes. And though she was grinning, she also looked very, very sad to have to share this with him. That he hadn't realized it on his own. "Toby, I don't know when it started. Maybe since Dysphoria; that'd do it to anyone. I even thought at first, maybe it had something to do with me. But no. Toby, ever since we got back..." She took a deep breath, giving him one last moment to catch the answer first.

That was not going to happen. The mouse's face was wholly clueless, waiting nervously for her to fill him in.

Fine then. Junella straightened her posture, like a doctor about to pass along a hard diagnosis. "Toby, you don't smile anymore."

Toby blinked. Involuntarily his hand rose up to touch his face, inspecting the corner of his mouth. "Really? No..." She couldn't be right.

Her eyes said gently, 'You know I'm telling the truth.'

Toby riffled back through his memory. "Can't be. I know I've been overwhelmed, and set on my plans, and even a little depressed. But I know I've laughed. Not much, sure, but I'm sure I have recently. At least a few times."

She shook her head. "A laugh's not the same as a smile. And even when a half-chuckle makes it through that stony mug, your eyes don't smile. They keep that same, hollow bleakness. I know what it's called, Toby. Soldiers coming home from war get it. They call it the thousand yard stare."

Toby remembered Piffle telling him he looked like an owl when he fought the pigdroid. Junella compared him to a mannequin with glass eyes.

"That's what happens," Junella continued, "when you've seen more ugliness than your heart and mind can take. So you just... blow a fuse. You shut down the part of yourself that can still feel happiness, to protect it from getting wiped out for good."

Toby was unintentionally displaying that exact stare now. He let his sight roam distractedly across the landscape. He felt very cold. "I... Really? I hadn't..."

A caring hand cupped his shoulder. Junella leaned in close. "But I'll bet you didn't notice something else."

He grimaced. "What now?"

The warmth in her smile let him know this wasn't more bad news. Far from it. "A bit ago, when you helped me get my eyes back, you did smile. I saw it. Just for a moment, but it was real."

Toby hadn't noticed. He wished he had, so he could have properly appreciated the moment. In fact, he tried to smile again. He really, honestly did. But something was wrong with his lips. They quivered, and his eye twitched, but they couldn't produce anything but the sickest, weakest mockery of a smile. A smile on its deathbed.

Junella reached out to touch his lips. She swept the pseudo-smile away. "It's fine. Don't rush it. If you're broken, then just remember that I am too, and your analytical ass just spent all this time helping me get allright with that. There'll be time to find your way back later on."

He looked relieved to be told he didn't have to try anymore. He had noticed, ever since leaving Scarlatina, that being happy was damn hard. Reverting to instinctive worry, he wondered if he'd lost some integral part of himself. If this latest pass through Dysphoria had done more damage than he realized. 'You took out Zinc's friends with completely cold blood. D'you think maybe that's a sign you weren't feeling your best?' Whatever the case, it was still unpleasant to realize that he'd only succeeded in hiding it from himself.

'Though, after the first time through Dysphoria when I was at my worst, my friends saw through me then too. And I also thought back then I was permanently damaged. But I wasn't.'

Junella touched his cheek very tenderly, seeing all his pain. "You don't have to be blue about it, Toby. Look at it this way. Does she deserve to see a smile from you?"

Toby laughed at that. It was more like a croaked gasp, but it was as close as he could seem to make.

She nodded, letting him know it was a fine effort.

He opened his mouth to say some witty response, and instead something else spilled out. It was the stark, bleak core of what he'd been feeling for days. The words he'd tried to keep his inner voice from speaking, because the group simply did not have the leisure of dealing with problems like this. They had so much else to do in preparation. There wasn't energy to waste dealing with a mouse who felt he was well along the path to his goal, but was leaking pieces of himself along the way like a shattered clock. To the point where he dared not check inside to see if there was anything left.

His voice didn't even sound like his own when he said it.

"I don't know who or what I am anymore."

The words caused a silence between them. Toby was frozen by hearing his own throat betray a feeling he'd been keeping under lock and key. Junella was unprepared by the rawness of the confession. Especially from the mouse who seemed to have all the answers about everything else.

Toby tried to conjure words to explain, downplay, dismiss. His mouth opened, but it created nothing more than stutters of breath.

Junella's eyes were no longer soft blue, but they could still show concern. "Toby...?"

"I can't-"

Suddenly he was falling against Junella and letting her catch him. Letting her enfold him gently. Suddenly he was shaking all over like he was standing ankle-deep in ice.

He was aware that this was the type of moment where he should have been crying. But nothing was coming out. His face was frozen solid. A mannequin.

Junella held him without a word. And now it wasn't because her hands were too occupied to run her needles along her grooves and make a song. They had simply said everything important. Quiet mattered more now. And touch.

He held on like she was the side of a skyscraper, and the wind was about to rip him away into the void.

-***-

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