._Snoofington's Raevan

[Snoofington]

Bitter Nostalgia

A spray of mist settled across Cruz's bare skin, sun kissed and bronze. He was all but naked, lying on the balcony with his hair tied up in a loose top-knot to keep it off of his neck and shoulders while soaking in the summer shine. Just a few feet from him, Minerva was tending to a variety of potted plants that had only grown in number since the Clarke family became such a big part of their lives. She spritzed the leaves of many with a bottle and occasionally offered a few sprays to Cruz so he wouldn't shrivel up like a raisin while sunning himself.

”This is nice,” he murmured. The damp droplets soaked into his dry skin and left a refreshing coolness across his back.

Minerva chuckled, still at work with the other plants. ”Glad you're enjoying it.”

Cruz turned his head, ”Mm?” It took him a moment to realize he had only been pondering to himself and not outloud. ”Oh, this too, but-- was talking about Nita.”

”Ahh, yeah.”

She sounded a little less enthused; this made Cruz frown. He adjusted, contorting so he could peek at Minerva in the corner of the balcony without moving his body too much.

”You don't like it?”

Minerva hummed uncertainly. She was turned away from him at an angle, so he couldn't see her face. ”It's not that I don't like it... He's her dad. If she wants him to be in her life then that is entirely her decision.” Entirely. Cruz swallowed – his throat was dry. ”It's just my job to worry. That's what moms do.”

Cruz gave a thoughtful rumble, which came out more roughly than usual. ”What's he like?”

”What's Tristan like?” Minerva laughed humorlessly. ”You met him.”

”But I don't know him,” the croc corrected, ”he was quiet and didn't really talk to me much. Nita said he was nervous.”

”He is that.”

The frei tightened his lips. Like Anita, Minerva was being more reluctant about releasing information than usual. He let a soft silence blanket them, peppered by the faint waves on the beach and the sound of cars passing below.

After nearly a minute, Minerva added, ”It's been a long time since I've talked to him. I couldn't tell you how he is now.”

Cruz murmured – and conceded. He never knew quite how long ago these tensions arose but, from what he gathered, it started with Minerva much earlier than with Anita.

When she turned, she offered him an apologetic smile. Cruz matched it and nodded. As she walked past him to the other side of the balcony to give the other plants their water, Minerva reached down to ruffle Cruz's hair. He gave a soft chuckle; her hand retreated, and his followed.

”Nerva,” he held her wrist gently, ”what can you tell me?”

Minerva stopped in place, brows raised in surprise. They regarded one another, green eyes to blue, and he felt his pulse quicken the longer she stayed silent. He recoiled as she misted him in the face. ”That you're nosy,” she laughed, slipping from Cruz's grip to continue on her path.

Cruz laughed, too, but it waned as soon as her back was to him. Did it not work?

”Let's see,” Minerva brushed some hair over her shoulder, ”Do you want to hear how we met?”

He blinked dumbly, then propped his chin up with both palms, ”Yes, please.”

Minerva sighed, her breath more wistful than exasperated. ”God, this was a long time ago. I was working at a jewelry store around then but I can't remember what he was doing...” she shook her head, ”anyway, we met in a bar. He was quiet then, too, but he smiled more, you know? He laughed at all my jokes.” Under her breath, she added, ”I thought he was cute. Wrote my number on his palm while I could still see straight.”

There was a sudden fondness in her voice that Cruz had never heard regarding this man. It made him smile and he only grew more curious. ”I didn't expect to hear from him again. You never really do, in that kind of setting. It was sweet, though – he was all shy but he called the next day to make sure I got home alright. That was pretty rare for a guy to do, in my experience. I liked it a lot. So, I decided I liked him a lot.”

”And then you got married?”

Minerva reared back with a loud pff and shook her head. ”Not that fast. I mean, it was kind of fast... Faster than I'd want, if I could go back and do things again, but that was my fault. No, it took about a year of this on-again-off-again dating thing. He'd call me on the weekends sometimes just to check in, I'd invite him out to drink with my friends. He didn't always want to go but it never took much to convince him.” She glanced back to Cruz with a small shrug, ”I was kind of pushy.” His brows rose but Minerva didn't give him much time to ruminate on that comment – or their similarity. ”I think he wanted us to be steady for a while but he was too shy to really put his foot forward on it, so I did it for him.”

With all of this, Cruz couldn't help but pout. ”It sounds like you really liked each other.”

”We did,” Minerva quieted, her fondness receding, ”We really did.”

”What happened?”

She took a moment to glance out at the bright horizon; with her hair blocking her eyes, all Cruz could see of Minerva's expression were her lips. Her smile was gone.

”Things change. People change. Or... maybe, you think you know someone better than you really do. Then, you see how they're different from what you made up in your head.” Minerva resumed spraying the leaves. ”Like I said, we got married kind of fast. Suddenly we were living together, around each other every day. It's great for the first few months, you feel more connected, but then you start seeing things you never did before. Their bad habits. Stuff they don't really think about but it's different when no one else is around. Everyone's like that. And then... we found out about Anita.”

Cruz folded his arms. He kept his eyes glued on Minerva, trying to soak in every detail. The tips of his scaled wings shuddered with anticipation. ”We were both excited, of course-- but... I think I was more excited than he was. Once I knew she was on the way, I got myself together. I stopped drinking, I stopped smoking, I ate better. He didn't, though. If he smoked, I made him do it outside. If he drank, it wasn't with me. We were spending a lot more on food, because I was eating for two and I wanted to make sure it was all good for her, so that was stressful. I don't think he really knew how to deal with that, how suddenly everything changed. First we were having a blast and then we had to buckle down and get our lives in order, we had to be responsible, we couldn't just have fun all the time when we got off work.”

”Oh...” the croc lowered his head until his chin came to rest against his arms. Cruz stared, instead, at Minerva's bare feet as they stepped over to another planter. ”That's no good.”

”I think what it came down to was, I was looking forward to the next phase of our lives while he was treating it as a loss. He wasn't ready to move on yet but I was charging full steam ahead.” She let out a soft laugh, her head hung, ”We weren't on the same page anymore. I stopped being as fun as he was used to and he never started meeting my expectations. He didn't really knew what to do with Anita, either, once she was in the picture. It would have been kind of funny if he wasn't, you know, supposed to help raise her.”

”She said she didn't know him for a long time,” Cruz chewed lightly at the inside of his cheek, careful and delicate with his teeth.

”That's true,” Minerva smiled to Cruz, almost with a hint of guilt, ”It wasn't just because of him, though. He dragged his feet to hell and back, for sure, but when we first broke things off... I didn't let him near her. I told him he didn't deserve to be.”

Cruz's heart fell, just as Minerva's expression did. He let his chin slide down from his arms, his mouth hidden against them. The salty sea breeze swept between them and Cruz closed his eyes.

He trusted Minerva, of course, but the descriptions were difficult for Cruz to align with the man he sat with at lunch. Quiet? Yes. Shy? Very. But this was also the man who asked them, in all of his awkwardness, to take care of Anita. Good care.

Minerva must have picked up on Cruz's silence – she took the seat next to him. ”It felt right at the time, telling him that. He stayed away like I told him to, for years. I figured that was it, he was gone and we didn't have to worry about it. But--” she crossed her legs, ”--he called again, when I least expected it. Anita was old enough to decide whether she wanted to talk to him or not – and she did. I wasn't going to keep her from him if she wanted to get close, but I was there to make sure she wouldn't get hurt... or, at least, had someone reliable she could come to if she did. That's what moms are for.”

With that last assertion Minerva allowed herself to smile again, however small. He called again, she said – like when he called to check on her. She liked that. Cruz tried to piece these things together, this scrambled picture of a man he hardly knew, but most of the puzzle was blank. All he knew for sure was that Tristan missed Anita, he must have (how could he not?), and for all the difficulties and misunderstandings over the years, Anita missed him too.

Humans, as always, were needlessly difficult when dealing with each other. Always, always making things too complicated. That's what made this new ability so good, Cruz thought, because it let him push past that, move aside the doubts that clouded decision and communication.

It cut out the bullshit.

”She seems okay,” Cruz lifted his head to offer a smile. ”Think she's kind of relieved.”

Minerva leaned against her palm. ”Yeah?”

”Yes. They're talking. It's nice.”

”I hope it stays nice,” she leaned back, eyes on the horizon. The sun was still bright but it was hanging lower, drawing out its time before setting a colorful fire to the sky.

Cruz rolled over and tucked his arms behind his head and watched the waves drift back and forth. They stayed like this for several minutes, just soaking in the sights and sounds of their home, basking in their companionable silence.

He broke it unceremoniously with a clumsy ”Oh.” Cruz had nearly forgotten, in the wake of all this new knowledge, there were still more questions to be asked and one in particular that burned more than the others.

”Do you know Rob?”

Minerva turned to Cruz with a creased brow. ”Rob?” she repeated, the perplexed look on her face giving him enough of an answer, but recognition quickly replaced it, ”Oh, his brother? Yeah, a little. Why?”

Cruz shrugged. ”He mentioned him. What's he like?”

”Hmm,” Minerva scratched her forehead, ”That's a harder question. I only met him a few times. He seemed okay, I guess? He used to throw bonfire parties and those were pretty fun but it's hard to really know someone when you're in big groups like that.” She grimaced, ”Granted, that was over twenty years ago. He could be like anything, now. Who knows?”

That certainly wasn't the answer he was hoping for but at least it was straight forward.

”Oh, okay,” Cruz pressed himself from his seat with his palms. Once floating, he let his hair down and shook it out. ”Thanks for talking to me, Nerva,” he smiled and gave her a peck on the cheek, ”and the spritzies.”

She chuckled and returned his kiss. ”No problem, Herbal Essence,” Minerva ruffled his hair as he moved past.

Tango was waiting at the door when Cruz opened it. For how long, he couldn't tell. It was about time to let him out anyway, so Cruz was glad he was able to get that last question in even if it didn't bear much fruit. It was comforting, at least, Minerva didn't have any negatives to list about this mystery uncle.

 

[Snoofington]

Seeking Assurance
starring Cruz & Aina

In all of the commotion of the past several days, the croc had been so swept up in new events and new information that he had forgotten to do something very important. He hadn't told Aina any of these developments. As one of his very best friends, she ought to know what was going on and why he had been so busy as of late -- but more importantly still, she knew of Anita's father in a context none of his other friends did.

Or, at the very least, had heard of him.

As the day settled down after his conversation with Minerva, Cruz decided to call the rainy frei before she had to bed down. She went to sleep quite early, after all, and her day was nearly over.

Cruz: -waits while the phone rings, lightly biting his lower lip-

Mordekai: -picks up after a few moments- “‘Ey, Cruz! Everythin’ alright?”

Cruz: “Hi Momo! Yeah, was wondering if Aina can talk for a bit? I know her bed time’s soon--”

Mordekai: “Oh! Yea, s’no problem~” -leaning his head away from the phone- “Aina! You done brushin’ your teeth, Cruz wants to talk to you!”

Aina: -from a distance- “I’m done!” -closing the distance to the phone- “Can I have the phone please?” -after receiving it- “Hi Cruz!”

Cruz: “Thank you--” -giggles because he wasn’t expecting her so quickly- “Hi Aina! Were you getting ready for bed?”

Aina: -settles the phone against her cheek and sniffs, nods- “Mhm! I brushed my teeth an’ stuff. Are you gonna go to bed too?”

Cruz: “Not yet. Um, actually, calling ‘cause I had a question for you.” -pauses a second- “Err, I guess a couple things.”

Aina: “Ooh… okay!” -sits on her bed - rustling of blankets follow- “What kinda questions?”

Cruz: -rumbles a little- “Do you remember at Christmas, Nita’s dad?”

Aina: “Umm…” -after a pause- “I don’t remember ‘Nita’s dad bein’ at Christmas…”

Cruz: “Oh, no, he wasn’t. But he got talked about, yeah?”

Aina: “Oh--” -thinks, while wrapping some blankets around her shoulders- “Ummm, I think so… why? Is ‘Nita’s dad gonna be at Christmas this time?”

Cruz: -he hadn’t thought of that-- “Mm. Maybe! Dunno. But he’s around. Nita’s been talkin’ to him, me and Momo got to meet him a couple days ago.”

Aina: “Oh! Is that why Mister Eric and Momo went to Gambino together?”

Cruz: “Mhm! He brought groceries to share with him but then we forgot ‘em in the car. Her dad’s shy.” -thinks back on what Minerva said- “It’s kind of cute.”

Aina: -giggles- “You forgot ‘em! What’re you gonna do?” -her laughing brightens- “Did you make him blush lots?”

Cruz: “We cooked ‘em already.” -he giggles too- “Oh, maybe-- mostly he was quiet. Nita said he was nervous the whole time.”

Aina: “Oh no! Sorry, ‘Nita’s dad… huh? Why was he nervous? Was he just really excited to meet you an’ papa?”

Cruz: “Ah… Not sure he was excited for that… but um-- that’s kind of what I wanted to ask you about. ‘Cause you got a dad and Nita didn’t for a long time and I never knew much.” -rumbles thoughtfully- “Aina… what do dads do?”

Aina: “Huh? Um…” -goes quiet for a moment- “Um… I don’t get it… what d’you mean?”

Cruz: “Mm-- Like, Nerva says moms are there to worry about their kids and make sure they’re okay if they get hurt. To try and protect ‘em. What are dads for?”

Aina: “Oh… um…” -thinks- “Um… I dunno… Momo’s my papa, an’ Duncan’s my grandpa, an’ they’re really good at fixin’ stuff… like when your smile’s all broke an’ stuff. And…” -pouts- “They make sure you’re all safe an’ stuff too. They give you kissies and make sure you’re not cryin’ too much...”

Cruz: -listens and thinks; pouts too- “Hmm… But that all sounds like what moms do… That’s what Nerva does, anyway. She’s good at it, too.” -frowns- “So moms and dads just do the same stuff?”

Aina: “Mhm… um… maybe… ‘cause… ‘Nerva an’ Momo both want everyone to be really happy an’ safe… right?”

Cruz: “That’s true... “ -smiles- “They just wanna take care of everybody. But um--” -hums, uncertain- “--just not really sure… what Nita’s dad does. ‘Cause he’s been gone so long. Don’t think Nita even knows what he’s supposed to do.”

Aina: “Oh… um… does ‘Nita’s dad love her?”

Cruz: “I-- um… oh.” -worried frown- “I-I think so? Didn’t hear him say it, but… y-yeah. He’s gotta.”

Aina: -hugs one of her stuffed animals; hums- “Momo says.... um… people go away for a really long time ‘cause you hurt each other… even if you love ‘em a lot… so… maybe he’s comin’ back ‘cause he can say sorry to her. That’s what papa had to do for lots of people before he could do a lotta dad stuff…” -nods- “‘Cause dads have to be responsible for their families an’ everything.”

Cruz: “He did?” -having a hard time picturing Mordekai hurting anyone- “Mm-- that’s what I think, too. That he missed her and wanted to say sorry. Nita… wasn’t very sure she wanted to let him, but-- she seems happy that she did.”

Aina: “Mhm… he had to do that for auntie Leigh an’ uncle an’ everyone… oh--” -wiggles- “Is it ‘cause ‘Nita loves her dad too?”

Cruz: “Ah-- y-yeah! Never… heard her say it either… but-- yeah, yes. It’s just like with Momo and Miss Leigh, ‘cause -- she loves him a lot too, right?”

Aina: “Mhm…! So maybe ‘Nita’s dad just gotta say he’s sorry to her an’ he can start doin’ dad stuff again…” -pauses- “Um, how long was ‘Nita’s dad gone?”

Cruz: “Yeah.” -smiles, feeling more assured-- then calms- “Um, years and years. Since before I was born. And Nita didn’t know him for a long time either ‘cause he was gone while she was growing up.” -frowns- “He kinda… came and went, and then came back.”

Aina: “Oh…” -a bit crestfallen- “I’d be really sad if my dad did that… I don’t even know what years an’ years are like.” -perks up- “But if Nita’s dad loves her lots, he’s gonna try really hard, right?”

Cruz: -rumbles sympathetically, nodding-- perks up a little too- “Yeah! Think this is gonna go good for both of them. A little rocky but-- she seems a lot better with him than when they weren’t talking.” -glances at the clock- “Oh-- it’s getting really late for you, isn’t it?”

Aina: “Mhm… they must miss each other lots… hm? Oh, ‘m okay…” -yawns, giggling- “Can you come over for sleepovers soon…?”

Cruz: -nods against the phone, giggles too- “Mhm! Maybe in a couple days? Should let you sleep, though. Thanks for talking, Aina.”

Aina: “Okay…! Let’s sleepover soon… uhuh…” -kisses the phone- “Have a good night Cruz! I love you!”

Cruz: -rumbles in agreement, then chuckles-- kisses the phone back- “Love you too Aina, sleep good!”

 

[Snoofington]

Tour of the Heart

Over the next few days, Cruz grew more vigilant. While he couldn't observe every event or interaction, it was easy to see that as time went on Anita seemed to be growing more comfortable with the idea of having her father back in her life.

Their phone calls were never long, he noticed; just enough exchange to update one another on their days, what the weather or traffic was like in their respective areas, and ask how each other were. Both, from what the frei could discern, were refraining from treading too deeply into conversations. They were avoiding getting personal. Yet still, with every call Cruz could hear, their goodbyes grew more amiable. At first, Anita only said “bye”, then she started to say “thanks for calling”, and most recently “it was good talking to you”.

Cruz felt good about this but there was still some apprehension. After his discussion with Aina, there still had been no admissions of love from Anita to her father and Cruz could only assume was the same from the man. It wasn't like with Minerva, where she and Anita doled out their verbal affection eagerly and with ease at the end of every call and every night.

Maybe something was still missing from the equation.

”Is he coming back?” he asked a few minutes after she ended one such call.

Anita looked a little perplexed before giving the question some serious consideration. She leaned her head to the side and gave a small shrug. ”When he has the time, maybe.”

”Oh,” the croc pursed his lips, ”Is he busy?”

”I don't know.” After a few seconds of staring from Cruz, she added, ”I haven't asked. It's a long drive.”

With a rumble deep in his chest, Cruz smiled. ”He came all the way last time.” Just for an hour-long lunch, he might add!

That seemed to stir some curiosity into Anita's uncertain expression; she looked to the side, then out toward the balcony. It was bright and sunny, nearly cloudless like most Gambino summers, and tourism was still in full swing. Despite the crowds, it really was the best time of the year to visit Gambino to see the island in full swing.

Anita he looked over at Cruz with a raised brow, ”Why are you so curious?”

To that, he offered an animated shrug of his arms. ”You aren't?”

Anita tightened her lips and pointed a finger playfully at the croc. He had her there. ”I'll ask him.” Cruz raised his arms triumphantly, all smiles at her. ”But--” he faltered, ”--you gotta come with.”

Not to say that Cruz wasn't excited to be invited, but the requirement took him aback. He lowered his arms and tilted his head, looking critically at Anita. ”How come?”

”Because,” she started slowly, as though fishing for reasons at that very moment, ”it'd be better, if we're showing him around town. You can point out things if I forget.” Which, he was learning, meant in Anita-speak that she wasn't confident about keeping the conversation going.

He could handle that. ”Okay! Can we take Tango, too?”

”Yeah, what the hell,” Anita chuckled and returned to her phone.

As Cruz suspected, she didn't need to twist Tristan's arm for him to agree on another visit. Scheduling was made easier since Anita had convinced her head manager to give her most weekends off earlier in the year – or at least Saturdays with an early shift on Friday. That made it easier to visit with the Clarkes due to their Monday through Friday work, which seemed equally true of one Tristan Bishop.

For their meet-up, Anita figured they could take him around the boardwalk, the docks, the beach, and then maybe grab a quick bite. If they were on foot, the trip around would take a few hours, which she mentioned to Cruz 'felt a lot more worthwhile than just a single lunch'. The wait was similar to their first lunch with Tristan, minus Anita's palpable worry that her dad might not show up at all. Cruz watched her carefully that morning but there was no anxious pacing, no trouble picking out what to wear, and she ate breakfast calmly.

This time, they opted to meet up nearby the ferry so Tristan could park and the three of them could get started as soon as possible. The same as last time, Anita still seemed surprised when she spotted his drab, moss colored Caprice full into port right on schedule.

Cruz smiled to her, both to reassure and, perhaps just a little, say he told her so.

”Hi, again,” Tristan greeted with a small wave, sounding as hesitant to Cruz as his initial arrival. He looked to Anita, brows knit a bit high. ”Your dog got big.”

She laughed.

”How small was Tango before?” Cruz asked, alighting himself across the wolfhound's back, leash in hand and wrapped around his arm.

”Once upon a time, he was small enough to fit in your hands.”

Cruz gasped; he looked down so closely at the top of Tango's head that his nose smushed against it, then held both of his hands out in front of the mutt's face. Tango licked both of Cruz's palms, which he quickly drew back to softly squish Tango's cheeks. ”So small.”

With another small laugh, Anita turned back to her dad and gave a vague gesture toward the neighboring sidewalk. ”So, I think we'll hit the docks and beach first then save the boardwalk for last for food. Is that okay?”

”You're the guide,” Tristan rolled up his sleeves, ”Lead the way.”

The weather was perfect for a tour, Cruz thought; the sky had been consistently clear for days, there was a small sea breeze rolling in to take the edge off, and especially around the docks there was a great deal of activity from the boats themselves.

He and Tango hung back several paces to give Tristan and Anita some space. They, too, weren't walking especially close together – Anita was a few steps ahead of him and they walked almost diagonally from one another. Cruz let his chin rest against the top of Tango's head while his eyes drifted between their backs. Tristan's posture still seemed a bit tense from when he arrived but the more they walked the more he loosened up, stepping casually with his hands in his pockets. Anita, as well, held her back a bit straighter than she would in comfortable situations – it was almost like the posture she used at work – but she was managing to lead their trek better than she must have thought.

As he suspected from what little he caught of their phone exchanges, they let the conversation stick mostly to the present and what was directly in front of them. That left quite a lot of silent spaces where the four of them just walked and the only discussions belonged to people passing by. During what Cruz decided was one too many of these lulls, he spoke up.

”Should we show him the lab?”

Anita looked over her shoulder without slowing her pace, ”I don't know. We'd have to drive there,” she looked back over her shoulder and scratched the back of her head, ”Not sure there's anything interesting to see there right now, anyway.”

”A laboratory?” Tristan asked.

Score one for Cruz on guiding this conversation.

”Yeah, it's um-- it's where Cruz was born.”

Tristan glanced back to the crocodile raevan, who smiled at him from his moving furry perch. He made an appraising sound, as if upon closer inspection everything suddenly made sense, and returned his eyes forward. ”How did you get involved with that?”

”Fundraiser,” Anita shrugged.

Determined not to allow too much air into the conversation, Cruz continued. ”Lots of our friends are, too. There's a lot of people with lab.”

”Huh,” Tristan looked at his shoes for a moment, then to the back of Anita's head, ”Even, um-- Mortimer?”

”Mordekai. And, yeah,” she brought both hands up to hold the back of her neck, ”Lab's kind of how we met.”

He nodded and scratched the side of his beard.

When the pause grew, Cruz readied himself for another interjection but closed his mouth just as quickly as he opened it.

”I, um-- I've got to be honest,” the reluctance to continue was obvious from Tristan's tone, and Anita's own reluctance to hear whatever he was about to say showed in the stiffness of her shoulders and how she didn't glance back to him, ”Before you introduced him, I kind of thought he was, uh... your mom's boyfriend.”

”Oh my god--” Anita's arms dropped to her sides, then immediately raised again as she covered her face, ”Dad.”

”Sorry,” he rubbed one of his arms.

”'Nerva doesn't have one but she comes home with kisses someti--”

”--WOW, we should get some water! I think there's a little booth just around the corner, here.”

Cruz puffed his cheeks out when Anita silenced him. Instead of continuing that line of thought, he gave Tango a kiss between his ears.

Their jaunt across the beach was relatively short and held little conversation, thanks in part to them sipping water and the crowds across the sand. So as not to disturb them, Cruz guided Tango through the throngs of people, seagulls, and other eager puppies as obediently as he had some time ago. It was hard to believe it had already been months since then but only a week and a half since he learned to properly utilize it.

He kept the pup on track behind Tristan and Anita until they were through with the beach's scenery and scattered outlet huts. Cruz hurried Tango a bit so he could walk closer to them, hoping to hear them quietly conversing over the din surrounding them, but there was very little to be heard. While their postures managed to ease back to where they were before, once again they seemed to have hit a wall that needed a nudge to move beyond.

Cruz was all too eager to oblige, too eager in fact as he moved to speak while sipping his own water bottle and Tango's haunches bounced in their step enough to make him spill down his front and on the pup's back.

”Nice,” Anita joked. She turned their course to another nearby drink stand, this one specifically for fruity beverages decorated with flowers, to retrieve a few napkins.


While wholly accidental, it seemed to give Tristan enough time to come up with something to say as they stood there and Cruz wiped himself and Tango off.

”Well, uh, I'm glad your work let you off today,” he cleared his throat, ”I know you mentioned this is a busy time.”

Anita took a seat on a small concrete wall, only about thigh-high. ”Yeah, they like stuffing a lot of new releases into this quarter so summer and winter, 'cause of the holidays, are the worst.”

She shook her head and took a drink of water. It took a few moments of tapping her feet, and Cruz side-eying her through his hair, but she continued when her father did little more than nod. ”What about you, though? From selling houses to parts inventory.”

”What about it?”

Anita shrugged. “Seems like kind of a downgrade.”

Tristan rubbed the back of his neck, glancing out to the shore. ”I guess you could say that.”

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, head lowered to look at her shoes. ”Was that on purpose? Or did something happen?”

”It was on purpose.”

”Money wasn't good enough?” she chuckled, humor all but draining from her voice as she did so.

He cleared his throat, ”I stopped liking it.”

Cruz, at this point, was merely pretending to wipe up his spill so as not to interrupt. He even spilled just a bit more water along Tango's spine when he was sure neither of them were looking, both to the dog's benefit and to continue the charade.

For Anita's part, she fell quiet. She clicked the sides of her shoes together a few times, then rocked them back on her heels.

”Why?”

It was a small thing, a faint peep, but it carried enough for Cruz to hear – and Tristan, too, by the way he stole a glance at her.

”It messed things up,” Tristan began digging through his pockets for a cigarette, ”I didn't want to do it anymore.”

She turned her head enough to hide her face from him with her hair but not enough to hide from Cruz. Anita's cheeks were flushed, lips tight, and her eyes glossy. It was the same sort of expression she wore when this all started, when she was so unsure on the phone.

It was her turn to clear her throat, as she noticed Cruz staring. Anita picked herself up from her perch and gave her face a quick wipe with the back of her arm, as if to get rid of sweat. She couldn't quite hide the unsteady draw of breath, but managed to keep her voice from quavering. ”It sounds calmer,” Anita gave a shaky laugh, ”I'd love to not have to deal with customers like that. We should go get food, I'm starting to get hungry.”

From there, back turned to both of them, Anita lead the way towards the boardwalk. Tristan fell quiet again, smoke pluming from his cigarette and quickly getting lost in the sky. Tango plodded after them at a leisurely pace with Cruz still astride.

The croc was trying to piece together what exactly just happened between father and daughter. He couldn't ask, he knew – at least, not right now. It wasn't quite in a form Cruz was used to, so indirect and then so quickly moved away from.

Was that enough to count as an apology?

 

[Snoofington]

Expectations

“A barbecue?”

Minerva looked up at Anita from her cereal. They sat opposite one another across the dining table with Tango lounged on his side beneath it.

“That's what he said,” Anita poked at a piece of sausage with her fork, “This weekend.”

Both of them were still wearing their bed hair, had to hold up their heads with a hand, and their speech rolled slowly from their lips. It was early, mother and daughter both saddled with morning shifts, but the croc had woken bright eyed and bushy-tailed, as always seemed to be the case by comparison.

Cruz sat on the couch just a few feet from the girls, back to them as he played on his handheld. At the mention of the invitation, he leaned his head back and watched the two speak upside down.

“I guess not too much has changed, if Rob's still doing those regularly,” Minerva took a sip of orange juice.

Anita raised her brows despite the droop to her eyes remaining. “Do you want to go?”

“Hell no,” she chuckled lazily.

The frei, still slumped backwards over the arm of the sofa, raised one of his arms. Both of their eyes drew on him, but Cruz's emerald gaze was locked onto Anita. With only a few seconds of dazed appraisal, she understood.

“Yes, you can come.”

Little else was on Cruz's mind while Anita and Minerva were at work. He texted Anita on her lunch break to see if she intended on bringing Mordekai this time, but though she wanted to she was hesitant to put him into another awkward position like the lunch. It would be worse this time, she said, because she had never met Rob and thus had no idea what to expect . Cruz pouted at her, via liberal use of frowny face emotes.

The good news was that, regardless of how things went, they were going to be in Barton during the weekend. This put them extremely close to the Clarke house, which would make visiting afterwards that much easier. Anita seemed just as relieved as Cruz, with that comforting assurance.

As per their usual arrangement, Cruz helped Anita navigate. He heard her confirm the address with her father several times the day before, just to make absolutely certain. The ride was a fair amount shorter than going the full way to Duncan's house; their destination was only a few short miles away from the west end of Bass'ken which put Rob's house at about the halfway point between the coast and a visit to Hartline.

Neither of them were sure what to expect when they arrived but if it hadn't been for Tristan's car parked in the driveway between a shoddy looking maroon pick-up, they would have rode right on past it.

The area itself was very rural, with houses spread out across several acres. Neighbors here weren't quite neighbors in the sense of suburbs, spaced too far away to bump into while you retrieved your mail in the morning. The grass was untended for the season, likely due to frequent rains that rarely made their way to Gambino's shores. There was a lone maple tree in the front yard, quite old by the look of it, and some distance away sat a raised two-door that was partially disassembled. The house itself was a dark wood panel flat that sported a sizable front porch and a tilted canopy that covered what could loosely be called a garage.

There were no sidewalks here, only dirt and gravel. Behind the houses were some stretches of woods, though it was impossible to tell how thick they were from the side of the road. With no curb to park next to, Anita negotiated pulling into the driveway as best she could to park beside her dad's car but she was still halfway in the grass when she settled.

”I wonder if anyone else is coming,” Anita mumbled to herself while double and triple checking their destination on her phone.

”Nerva said he used to do really big bonfire parties,” Cruz said as he unbuckled, ”but if it's too big it won't be a good way to meet you, huh.”

Anita scoffed and unbuckled as well. ”Not at all. Let's go knock and see what's happening.”

Without the air conditioning in the car, the difference in the air was immediately noticeable. It was heavier than around the Clarke's home, likely due to Rob's proximity to the lake. A clinging, cloying humidity that Anita almost instantly rebuked with a quiet ”ugh”. At first their pace was leisurely, but it only took a few steps for Anita to hurry along in the presence of many flying bugs.

Cruz took his time while Anita knocked at the front door; he eyed the long grass – about shin height judging by Anita's legs – and the distant trees, which drew a different kind of curiosity out of him compared to the expansive fields behind Duncan's property.

It was quiet out here in ways Cruz wasn't used to. Not a single car had passed down the road besides them since they pulled up. The only animals he could hear for the moment were the drones of cicadas but he couldn't tell how close they were.

The screen door opened noisily and had little resistance in its hinges. Anita knocked three times just as Cruz glided up the stairs, and waited half a minute before knocking with the side of her fist. Those garnered some response – a muffled voice heralded the sound of the chain lock being removed. Neither of them knew what to expect but, for whatever reason, Cruz had envisioned Rob to look nearly identical to Tristan.

He did not.

A broader man with a thicker, fuller beard stood in the doorway. His skin was less sun kissed than Cruz's but, sporting a farmer's tan to boot, but compared to Anita's fair complexion he would have fit right in at the boardwalk. Rob's hair was about the same length as his brother's but darker and less peppered with grey; it was combed back, out of his face, which was angular and beset with a square jaw.

Brown eyes peeked first at Anita and he drew a curious smile around the lit cigarette between his lips. ”Hey, girl,” a small plume of smoke rose and had difficulty disappearing in the muggy air.

”Hi,” Anita responded a touch more timidly than Cruz expected, ”Rob, right?”

He took the cigarette between two fingers and gestured to her with it, ”Anita.”

Cruz floated closer to Anita's side and smiled to this new uncle. ”Hi,” he waved with a low, excited rumble in his voice.

What amiable smile Rob wore was quickly hidden by his hand as he took another drag of his cigarette. He raised his bushy brows at the raevan, eyes wandering from his ears to his ponytail, to his wings and teeth, and finally the ribbon and rune.

”Hi,” he returned, meeting Cruz's eyes only briefly before returning his attention to his niece, ”Your dad mentioned you might bring a friend.”

”Yeah, this is Cruz,” she started to say. Rob was already retreating back inside while holding the door open for them to come in, which Anita was quick to do in effort to escape the bugs. Cruz pulled the screen door shut behind them.

Inside wasn't much cooler than out. The interior was wood paneled as well, though the living room sported dull shag carpeting from wall to wall. Rob lead the way through his house, not quite giving any sort of tour. It was a small place, though most of the rooms seemed to be down the opposite hall from where they were going. His living room lead into the kitchen, one door in which was open and lead to a set of stairs to a basement, the other of which lead into a work room of sorts – if it could really be called that.

Anita and Rob were talking, somewhat, as they walked but the frei was too preoccupied with taking in the decor to hear much besides Anita asking where her dad was. She and Cruz both slowed in their pace and attention as they moved through this room in particular. Hung up on one wall was a mounted deer head, a large buck with even larger antlers and dead eyes that stared at you as soon as you opened the door. Scattered against the same wall, and some along the opposite, were smaller but not dissimilar arrangements of hunting trophies; birds, rabbits, a few foxes, some fully mounted while others had only certain parts retained with their tails, heads, paws, antlers, and a small collection of larger and more notable feathers from a variety of birds.

There were several work benches, one far more cluttered than the rest, and a lot of shelves with a whole slew of bullets, blades, and other things Cruz did not want to familiarize himself with. Just from a glance, he could tell Anita didn't want to either, as her posture was stiff and her eyes toward the floor.

It was a relatively small room, no larger than the living room, but it felt a mile long to Cruz.

”You get lost?” Rob poked his head in from the back door. The light from outside washed out his features in the relative gloom of the house.

Cruz hovered closer to Anita and slipped his hand in hers. She held it loosely, enough to give him assurance and attachment, before they headed outside.

Compared to how low the lights had been, the backyard was almost too bright at first. Cruz squinted and allowed Anita to lead him down the small deck's stairs. The grass back here was much better maintained, at least within the immediate proximity; Rob had mowed a rectangular space about the same area as his home while leaving the rest. There was no fencing, only wide open space that was lined with trees several yards away. A few deck chairs were arranged at the center, around a dug out and unlit fire pit that, for the mean time, had a table sitting over it with a cloth and several empty dishes.

As promised, Tristan was present in one of the chairs, a can of beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He waved to the both of them, though had to lean to the side to do so as Rob walked directly in front of him to reach the charcoal grill just a few feet away. Cruz returned the wave, Anita didn't.

”Hey,” she lead Cruz to the two empty seats nearest her father. There were only four chairs, which answered her previous question about there being anyone else coming. ”Hope we didn't keep you waiting long. It was a little hard to find the turn off.”

”You're fine,” Tristan took a sip of beer, ”They need to label the road better, or cut some of the branches so they don't block it. No – Mordekai, this time?” It took him a second to find the right name.

”Not this time. We're heading that way after this, though.”

The grill creaked loudly as Rob opened its top. ”Who's that?”

”Her boyfriend,” Tristan leaned back in his seat.

Rob made a sound of understanding despite being distracted with getting the grill ready. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder in Cruz's general direction without turning around. ”And who's this one?”

”Cruz,” Anita stated again, a little flatter this time. Cruz settled a little lower in his seat and tapped his fingers together.

Tristan nodded. ”Yeah, he's um – mm...” he trailed off uncertainly, passing Anita a tired glance for assistance, ”Friend? Roommate?”

”Family.”

Rob laughed. ”Didn't know we had floating dragon people in the family.”

”Crocodile,” Cruz ran his fingers through the end of his high ponytail, the end of which hung loosely over his right shoulder.

The two brothers looked to the frei curiously but it was Rob who said ”huh?”

”I'm a crocodile,” he corrected, which seemed to only result in more confusion from the two men.

”How the hell's that work?” Rob asked, with a smile and a laugh. Tristan looked to Anita with much the same question on his face.

She sighed. By the sound of it, she was already tired of this line of questioning but Anita elected to answer when Cruz hesitated, ”Well, when a crocodile volunteers to be part of a science experiment, we get a Cruz.” Her sarcasm was laid on thick and they all noticed.

”Oh, right. You did say he was born in a lab,” Tristan returned to his drink quietly.

Perhaps it was for the best Anita didn't go into the details of his soul's origin. It seemed to be enough to placate her father for now, but Rob – though he resumed prepping the grill – continued on.

”You pick him up when you were in Durem?”

Pick him up. Like a pet.

”No, Cruz was born after I had to leave.”

Cruz glanced to Anita's father; he sat more stiffly when Durem was mentioned, stared down at the grass as Anita explained. The frei's brows knit. Maybe it was thanks to the beer that Tristan, for once, redirected the conversation. ”What all are you cooking today?”

It was enough for now. Rob switched gears and talked through his plans; it all sounded like things Anita enjoyed, things he thought he recalled Mordekai cooking before in Duncan's backyard. Grilled chicken, ribs, corn, and a few others. That seemed like quite a lot for their small gathering, especially when one of the attendees couldn't eat any of it. When they were asked what drinks they wanted, both he and Anita requested water. Rob seemed surprised to learn Anita had no taste for alcohol but only pressed the issue with a small joke before challenging Tristan that they would have to finish the case themselves.

One thing Cruz always enjoyed about cooking in spite of not being able to eat were the smells. Their scents, he supposed, were a flavor unto themselves but the charcoal added a different hint to the meats compared to grilling with gas or in the oven. It also seemed to produce a lot more smoke, which they were unfortunately downwind from and so would occasionally get faces full of a hot haze. The bugs steered clear of it for the mean time but the humidity wasn't helping much; Anita's hair, Cruz noticed, had grown thicker since they stepped out of the car and she was doing her best to keep it from touching her bare shoulders and arms by letting her braids drape over the back of the lawn chair.

”Pick out your pieces,” Rob announced as he set the last of the large plates full of meat towards the center of the table.

While he stepped back inside to gather up some butter for the corn and sauce for the meat, Anita and Tristan forked their portions onto their plates and Cruz contented himself with sipping at his water. When Rob returned, his eyes practically zoned in on the croc's empty plate. ”You ain't eating?”

”Can't,” he smiled apologetically, ”No stomach yet. It smells really good, though.”

”Yeah, it's – really good, actually,” Anita said, hiding her mouth with the back of her hand as she continued to chew. She almost sounded surprised. ”Thanks for cooking.”

”No problem.” Rob seemed stumped as he sat down. ”Yet? You waitin' on it in the mail?”

That drew a small smile from Anita and a chuckle from Cruz. ”Mm-mm. Still growing. Can't eat much until then.”

Neither Rob nor Tristan seemed to understand what Cruz was getting at. Rob pressed on. ”So what're you supposed to do until then?” he sat a little higher on his chair to peek over the table edge, ”and how's the water not fall out of you?”

”Soak it up like a sponge,” Cruz took another sip, ”I eat kisses.”

The typical confused looks followed. Anita grimaced. ”It's a long story.”

”Sounds like a pretty embarrassing way to eat,” Rob looked down at his plate and began taking his own portions.

Cruz's lips dipped, he lowered the glass from his lips.

Tristan cleared his throat. ”Do you work there or something? On the side?”

”At the lab? No, we just do their fundraisers,” Anita shook her head, ”I guess there's kind of volunteer work sometimes but--”

”You're not still sellin' games, are you?” Rob interjected without looking up.

Anita's mouth hung slightly for a moment before she answered, drawing out a low ”y-eah.” Her father must have told him about that.

He grunted. ”Should take you two out on the boat one time, see how a croc takes to lake water.” Anita let out a disinterested hum and continued eating. ”Who knows, you might like fishing better than selling kid crap.”

”I like selling kid crap,” Anita responded humorlessly. She set both arms on the table just as Cruz set his glass down; he glanced between them, and then to Tristan who had also paused in his meal to rest his elbows on the table and run a hand over his face. ”I've been with the same company since I graduated, I think I'll be fine.”

Rob shrugged and took a swig of his beer. ”I'm just saying, it's not as permanent as it probably feels.”

”It was permanent enough that they didn't fire me when I had to switch towns,” Anita picked up her fork.

”Durem's an expensive s**t hole anyway. You keepin' more money in your pocket now that you're out of there?”

Tristan was sinking lower in his seat the more his brother and daughter went back and forth. Cruz sat quietly, though the urge to give Tristan a small pat on the back was growing between his ribs like an invasive seed.

”Hardly,” Anita scoffed, ”If I was on my own I'd be screwed living in Gambino. Tourism and beachfront property are a lot more expensive than a low rent deal and it would have been even lower if I had time to find another tenant.” She glanced up in time to see her dad a bit hunched over the table, hand in his hair and staring over at the deck. Her tone softened some, ”but-- whatever. It's done.”

”Doesn't sound very done to me,” Rob laughed and reclined in his chair as he lit another cigarette, ”Are you really still testy about that? It's been years. It made your dad a lot of money.”

Beside him, Cruz heard Tristan mumble something in response to Rob but it was too quiet and muffled to make out. Rob didn't seem to hear it, either.

”Good for him,” Anita rolled her eyes.

Rob shook his head. ”You two are really that ate up about this s**t? I figured you worked it out already since y'all are talking again.”

”How about we all just mind our business and eat.”

”I am minding my business. He wouldn't have made the deal in the first place without me.”

”Rob--” Tristan sighed immediately after and held his forehead.

It was too late to intervene. The bomb had been dropped and Cruz couldn't for the life of him predict whether it would explode or be a dud. All around them the air seemed more dense, the sun more hot, and even over the noisy cicadas Anita's fork clattering against her plate as she set it down sounded all too loud.

”Excuse me?”

Cruz's heart hammered in his throat. His claws dug into the tablecloth.

”It was a damn good deal and he would've been stupid not to take it. He was getting cold feet, I convinced him to do it. Figured you would understand, considering how much it was getting bought for but,” he scoffed and gestured to Anita, ”guess that was expecting too much of you. Then he up and quit 'cause you were givin' him the silent treatment over this.”

Anita sat stone still in her sit, cheeks burning red.

”You two are so ********' childish, you've got to be your father's daughter.” He returned to his plate as though the tension in the air didn't exist. As though he hadn't just knocked the three of them on their heads.

Now, more than any other time, Cruz desperately wished he was in the garden with Aina.

”Well,” Anita managed to say, shaken and red faced, ”thanks for cooking.” She stood up from her seat too hastily, knocking her chair over, ”And thanks for getting me kicked out of my house.”

Anita only had to give Cruz a single look to draw him from his seat as well. He trailed close behind her, chancing a short glance over his shoulder; Rob seemed unfazed while Tristan was holding his head against the table. Cruz heard him groan and call for Anita in a weak attempt to draw her back but she was already halfway around the house as she took long, purposeful strides to her car.

Neither of them had known what to expect -- but it certainly wasn't this.

 

[Snoofington]

Seeking Asylum

The car idled for nearly two minutes outside of the Clarke home before its engine turned off.

Despite the relatively short distance, the ride over felt a great deal longer than when they were trying to find Rob's place. Neither of them spoke. Until the engine cut, Cruz scarcely glanced Anita's way – only chancing it at stop lights. Now that they were out front, along the curb rather than in Duncan's driveway, he had expected a quick and relieved escape.

This was not so. Anita stayed where she was, glaring down at the steering wheel. She hadn't even unbuckled.

”We're here,” Cruz said after nearly another minute of motionless silence. It came out soft, timid; almost a whisper but easily heard.

When Anita did nothing more than nod, Cruz unbuckled his seat belt in the hopes she would follow. In the quiet of the car, it sounded far too loud. She didn't budge.

Many times in his life, Cruz had seen Anita annoyed, troubled, even scared. This felt very different. It was a cold anger that she was trying very hard to keep inside, to push down and away despite its refusal; and still, she said nothing.

Cruz fidgeted uneasily. He looked out the window, to their haven so close by. It was still early in the afternoon, not even quite three o'clock. Compared to the heavy feeling stewing within the car itself, outside looked like paradise.

”Want to sit in the garden?” his voice wavered somewhere between anxious and hopeful.

”I don't want to go in mad.”

Her voice hadn't sounded like what Cruz expected from the surrounding tenseness. It didn't come out as a snap, it wasn't even rough – it was calm and detached.

A low, unsteady sound escaped from Cruz's throat that he quickly swallowed back. They drove all the way here expressly to feel better but not even being this close seemed to be helping Anita. He glanced back to the house, fearful their loved ones inside might notice the car and come out to greet them while Anita was in this state she did not want to share with them. There was no sign of them yet but it was only a matter of time the longer they sat here.

Cruz wanted to help. Desperately, he did. It took a moment through all of his fretting to realize he actually could; quite well now, in fact. He was getting better at this each time he used it, after all. Tan, slender fingers reached toward Anita's shoulder but before he could even make contact she raised her hand.

”I don't want to be touched right now.”

He drew back.

”Nita,” Cruz pleaded softly, for lack of anything else to offer.

She shook her head, slowly at first. Her gaze stayed ahead, on anything but him. Seconds ticked by and Anita's head shook a little more forcefully with each one. ”This is so ********> her mouth hung open as she tried to find the right word, only to close a moment later. Anita combed her bangs back with her fingers and leaned against the headrest of her seat. Her cheeks were red again and, with her hair out of the way, Cruz could see her eyes glimmer. ”I'm so stupid.”

Cruz's breath left him. ”You're not--”

”I am,” her own breath shuddered as she tried to keep her voice steady. All at once the emotion she suppressed was worming its way out. ”I've been so mad at him for years because I thought he was just being a selfish, greedy a*****e,” Anita wiped her face and leaned one arm against the door, holding her head.

There was a short, strained silence where Cruz was at a loss. His lips trembled, wanting to speak, but he couldn't think of a comforting thing to say. He didn't know enough about any of this.

Anita swallowed. She managed to stifle herself into a slightly calmer state, just enough to keep her voice from cracking. ”He's still an a*****e – but now I'm an a*****e too.” It didn't last long. ”And his brother's a goddamn jackass.”

She tensed, hands clutching at her hair and the edge of her seat. Anita sat up straight, fingers dug so hard into the fabric her knuckles were white. It was all in the span of three short seconds but to Cruz each one was agonizingly, terrifyingly long until it spiked sharply with the sounding of the car's horn. Anita's fist rammed into the center of the steering wheel and Cruz nearly hit his head against the ceiling in surprise. He reached out quickly and wrapped both of his hands around her arm but she was already done; Anita pulled herself against the wheel buried her face against it just as Cruz buried himself against her shoulder.

”Nita,” he choked out weakly.

Now that he was in contact, Cruz couldn't think of a damn thing to tell her to do. Nothing felt right for this level of upset, this brand of hurt. It wasn't quite like with Iorek, not in the heat of the moment, but Cruz wished very badly that he could impart the same level of calming acceptance he gave to the gargoyle.

If nothing else, Anita didn't recoil from his hold. She didn't try to shake him off or even ask him to let go. Maybe that was enough for right now.

She shuddered in his arms but Cruz couldn't tell if it was from tears or silent laughter. ”I was so ready to never talk to him again, for the rest of my life, and it wasn't even his fault,” she scoffed a second later, ”not completely.”

”But--” Cruz had to swallow a knot in his throat, ”--you didn't. Not forever. H-he's here...”

Again, she shook her head. Her face stayed hidden against her arm and through a curtain of hair. ”I don't know what to do...”

The helpless uncertainty of when Anita was first on the phone with her father returned. Cruz lifted his head away from her arm, allowing one of her braids to slide over her shoulder and hang in front of her. Without releasing her, he moved one of his hands to Anita's back.

”You should talk to him...”

Quiet fell again. The moments dragged on but they were all short in truth; it had only been roughly a minute since the horn went off.

In the palm of his hand, Cruz felt Anita's racing pulse. Though it didn't even out, his suggestion did make it slow. Anita's head leaned slightly to the left, and then to the right – not enough to show her face but as though she were weighing her options. Eventually she settled back to center and gave a small nod.

”Okay,” Anita sniffed as she finally pulled herself away from the wheel. She wiped her face again and swallowed to steady her voice. ”Okay. Let's just... let's go inside.”

Cruz's grip loosened as his own tenseness dissipated like smoke. Though she was still refusing to look at him just yet, he smiled. ”Want to sit In the garden?”

She nodded.

 

[Snoofington]

Mulligan

Like he requested, Anita spoke to her father.

It was later in the day, well after they had spent time at Duncan's house to decompress. They answered the door, laughing and covered in flour as they were preparing dinner. Cruz helped Aina and Mordekai with that while Anita retreated upstairs to nap in Mordekai's bed. The honk to the horn, in Anita's frustration, startled Aina into knocking over the batter they prepared so they had to start from scratch but it was a fun time that allowed he and Aina to play once they cleaned up.

Through the window, he saw them walking hand in hand among the flowers; Cruz and Aina both smiled fondly at the sight before returning to their games. Before they knew it, hours had gone by between play and naps.

He didn't know when they spoke or what was said but Anita assured him it had been done. She seemed more at ease afterward and that was good enough for him.

For the next few days, they put Saturday's events out of their minds. Once they were back in Gambino, things returned to a normal routine of lounging, easy smiles, and gentle play. When Anita and Minerva were at work, Cruz roamed the beach with Tango on little adventures. He was getting quite good at reigning the wolfhound in so he didn't give chase – the ability was really working wonders where verbal communication failed. Since he met the pup, Tango had always been a good listener but there were still some areas he wasn't perfect with and the fact Cruz had no legs with which to leverage himself against a dog's quick feet and powerful stride there was little he could do to intervene when Tango's instincts took over.

On one of these walks, the two returned to the apartments after Anita got off work. Cruz had gotten something of a late start, thanks to sunning himself out on the balcony for a while first, so it wasn't much of a surprise that she had beaten them with her afternoon shift.

When they got inside, she offered a distracted ”hey.” She was frowning at her phone.

”What's up?” asked Cruz as he rolled up Tango's leash. The mutt immediately retreated to his water bowl, then laid down on the cool floor.

”Apparently you-know-who doesn't think insulting me is enough reason for us to not associate.” When all the croc managed was a perplexed rumble, Anita rubbed her eyes. Cruz floated over and hung his arms limply over the back of the couch beside her. ”Rob wants a do-over and dad's sympathizing with him. Sorry, bucko, you ran out of continues.”

Cruz frowned. ”He wants to have lunch with us again?”

”And pretend like the last one didn't happen, yeah,” she scoffed, ”You can't call a mulligan on this, that's crap.”

”So you're not going.”

”Hell no.”

He nodded, lips pursed. ”Can I go?”

The proverbial record scratch in Anita's brain was nearly audible. She turned to him, face scrunched somewhere between surprise, confusion, and disgust. ”Why?”

Cruz shrugged, buying himself precious seconds with which to construct a plausible reason. He glanced over his shoulder at Tango, sprawled out on the floor and panting as he cooled off from the summer heat. ”It was really pretty and open out there. Might be nice to take Tango once, if you're not gonna go there again.” He figured that alone wouldn't be enough to convince Anita, and when he turned back to her he was right; her expression settled into a more dubious, skeptical look. ”It's really close to Duncan's, too. Tango hasn't visited in a long time, we can go right over there after and have a long sleepover.”

It wasn't much, but Anita's look softened some.

”I don't know... You don't know that area well. It's a lot farther away than it seems” She leaned her head back against the sofa. ”I don't think it's worth it to pop by his place even briefly when he's as rude as he is. We're probably going to see them again this weekend, anyway. We could bring Tango then.”

The croc folded his arms and hid some of his face behind them. He wasn't lying, those were definitely motivators – as sudden a decision as this was – but it would be no help to his cause if he told Anita the larger scope of his reasoning; there was simply too much to explain, most of which she didn't need to know. There was a brimming desperation in Cruz's core that rekindled as soon as Anita brought it up, a resurgence of worry and tangled feelings woven tightly through his ribs.

With how badly things had gone, the threat of Rob ruining the progress Anita and Tristan made in repairing their relationship was a real and present danger. He couldn't let that all go to waste – not now.

He glanced to her. Anita's smile was apologetic. Cruz matched it and reached for her; tanned fingers brushed her bangs back and he set his palm softly against her forehead. Her brows knit at the contact but she didn't recoil from him, not like she used to.

”Please... We'll be fine.”

Under his hand, Anita frowned. He watched her face change, as though the persuasion trickled through her. The tight curve of her lips faded and her brows upturned; Anita's eyes searched his as if trying to find some doubt or uncertainty but Cruz's stare was resolute.

She sighed. ”Are you sure?”

”Yes.”

Anita looked to the ceiling and gestured lamely with one hand. With one final exasperated breath she said, ”Call me when you get there.”

 

[Snoofington]

Not Much of a Croc

”I don't like you going out there alone.”

Anita's voice was soaked with doubt and second thoughts. It was far too late for those now. He was floating down the same dirt road, printed directions in his shoulder bag, from the nearest Barton bus stop.

”It won't be long,” Cruz said with a glance down to the bandanna-clad hound at his side, ”Tango's here, I'm not alone.”

She sighed into the phone. ”Call me as soon as you get to Duncan's...”

”Okay. Will call you soon, Nita. We're almost there.” He could hear her frown in the small hum she gave before they said their goodbyes.

Cruz closed the phone and tucked it into the front pocket of his bag, exchanging it for the sheet of directions Anita printed for him. The street name was right and not far in the distance he could make out the familiar structure of Rob's single level home – a large tree in the front yard was a good marker, but so were the rust bucket vehicles he owned and the tall grass that was still uncut nearly over a week later.

They moved through the brush, Tango's ears twitching occasionally from a rogue bug tickling them. Cruz wasn't bothered by them like Anita and allowed them to land on him where they pleased, however briefly. It was a good thing Tango was up to date on his flea and tick guard despite that being much less of an issue across the beach.

”You ready?” he whispered to the pup, who looked up at him with doe brown eyes and an eager tongue hanging from his mouth.

The hinges of the screen door were just as loose and rickety as before; it tapped against the wall when Cruz let go of it, which might have been enough of an alert to those inside but for good measure Cruz rapped his knuckles against the blotchy wooden door. Unlike the first visit, there was a marked delay in the sound of approaching feet beyond. Cruz had started knocking again by the time he could hear the lock on the door being undone and he pulled his hand back partway through.

When Rob opened the door, Tango's ears stood on alert. The man's bushy brows met in the middle as he looked at Cruz, lifted some at the sight of the dog, then quirked unevenly as he leaned to the side and craned his neck to look past them both. When he found nothing of interest, Rob looked back to Cruz with a contemplative frown.

”My niece didn't turn into a dog on the way here, did she?”

That made Cruz smile a little. He rolled Tango's leash up further in his hands and shook his head. ”Nita's not coming today.”

”Uh-huh.”

Rob's voice flattened at the noise and Cruz's smile waned. He watched Anita's uncle assess Tango some, who was leaning down to sniff at the floor of the porch and the air coming from the open front door. After a moment, Rob flattened himself against his door and opened it further to allow them both entry.

”Kinda figured. Her dad ain't comin', either.”

Cruz nodded as he floated in after Tango. That wasn't something he expected but perhaps it was for the best, given his own intentions of coming here; they didn't involve Tristan in the slightest, not this time.

Once they were in the middle of the living room, Rob closed the door. He walked past them towards the kitchen and turned on another lamp on the way. All of the lights seemed to be covered with the same sort of yellowed lampshade, though Cruz couldn't tell if that was their natural coloration or nicotine clinging desperately to the fabric.

The click of a lighter in the other room answered that well enough.

”So, what brings you on by?” asked Rob as he opened the refrigerator.

Truth be told, he wasn't quite expecting that question – and not in such a casual tone compared to the dip it had taken just a few moments ago. Cruz rumbled a short acknowledgment before responding properly. ”Wanted to meet you better,” he started, glancing to Tango at his side who was huffing curiously into the thick carpet, ”and bring Tango so he could run around.”

”Tango,” Rob repeated against the sound of clinking bottles, ”like Tango and Cash?”

”Tango like a dancey butt.”

”Mm.”

Rob stepped back out into the living room holding two brown bottles together by their necks. He raised them, ”You drink?”

”Water,” he smiled.

Rob scoffed. ”By choice?” He crossed the room and took a seat in an armchair near the coffee table, setting the bottles down on coasters.

That made Cruz pause. He shook his head, ”Not sure I'm supposed to,” then pursed his lips, ”tried tea before, though.”

With a gruff laugh, Rob popped the cap on one bottle and scooted it towards the edge of the table closer to the frei. He pulled the second towards himself and opened that for himself before settling back into the chair. ”'Cause of your,” Rob gestured to all of Cruz, ”situation?”

One of Cruz's hands came to rest at the peel of his ribbon from the bottom of his chest, just in front of his rune. He looked down at himself and nodded. ”One of my friends drinks tea a lot, and another ate whipped cream sometimes before he got a tummy.”

”It won't hurt nothin', then,” Rob took a sip of his beer and reclined.

The frei's green eyes drifted back to the bottle offered him; it radiated slightly from the cold compared to the thick, warm air in the house. Cruz realized Rob wasn't running any air conditioning.

His tanned fingers slipped around the neck of the glass bottle and the chill immediately soaked into his skin. It was refreshing, considering the otherwise lack of any temperature control. Cruz held the bottle up to examine its label and already he could hear the fizzing inside, just like a soda. The scent was more akin to bread than any soft drink he had been around but there was something else too, familiar from many adults and many occasions but that he had never thought too much about. It was a strong smell but one that didn't give him much of an idea as to its flavor.

Cruz realized, as he inspected, that Rob was staring at him; he smiled a bit sheepishly and brought the bottle to his lips. The frei's face puckered almost immediately. It was a sharp taste that went down rough and left a warm trail that burned in his throat despite the liquid being quite chilled. He could hear Rob laugh as he pulled the bottle away to stare at it.

”Good, right?” Cruz gave a short cough through closed lips. ”It'll grow on you.”

Though he didn't go back for another taste, at least not yet, Cruz kept hold of the bottle; it was a nice equalizer to the surrounding temperature. ”Thanks,” he said uncertainly.

”Guess I'm not too surprised that's your first one, if you're stuck in a house of women,” Rob chuckled into his next sip.

”'Nerva drinks every weekend,” Cruz said; Tango was still sniffing things around the living room and Cruz was loosening his leash little by little to give him more room to roam; he didn't seem at all interested in Anita's uncle yet.

Rob merely made a surprised noise and shrugged. He must have forgotten, from the stories Minerva told. It had been a long time.

A small silence slipped between them as Rob nursed his beer and Cruz glanced around the room. With a clear of his throat, Cruz said, ”Can I ask you--” Rob's brows lifted while his lips were still on the bottle, smoke trailing from his cigarette sitting between two fingers of his other hand, ”--did you mean what you said?”

He lowered the bottle, ”About what?”

”Nita being childish.”

Cruz held loosely to the very end of Tango's leash as Rob leaned his head back and sighed. ”Well,” he started after a moment of consideration, ”I didn't mean it to all come out like that. It was a shitty week, let me tell you.” When he seemed to catch on that this wasn't enough of an answer for the croc from the lift of his brows, Rob continued. ”That's why I wanted to give it another shot. This kinda proves my point, though,” he gestured with his cigarette at the distinct lack of any Anitas in the room, ”So yeah, I think she was – and is. Family's supposed to be stronger than that petty s**t, you know?”

Rob took a long drag of his cigarette, ”Blood's thicker than water.”

The rim of the bottle tapped lightly against Cruz's chest in an idle motion. He looked down at it, the sloshing liquid barely visible inside as it foamed. Family was supposed to be strong.

”Nita said we're family,” he glanced up to Anita's uncle – his uncle?

Smoke flowed slowly from the man's open mouth; he flicked ash into the tray on the table while his brown eyes moved from Tango to Cruz. ”She did,” Rob leaned on one arm of the chair. He looked the frei over again, head to ribbon, as though it were the first time, and his eyes settled on the small fin-like wings peeking over Cruz's shoulder. ”You said you're a gator?”

”Crocodile,” Cruz smiled a little; that was closer than calling him a dragon.

”Croc, right.” Rob leaned forward and stamped out the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray. ”You a good hunter?”

His smile dipped into a curious frown. ”Never hunted anything before.”

Rob's brows raised as he polished off the rest of his beer. ”Never in your life?” Cruz shook his head. ”Well that can't be. Can't call yourself a predator if you never been hunting.”

As Rob stood, Cruz straightened his shoulders.

”Let's go see how much of a croc you are when you try.”

 

[Snoofington]

The Frank Hunter

The sheer amount of open space and acreage was daunting in the most mystifying way. Out here, it was like the fields but the Clarke-Kantor house but different all the same. Gone were the trails of flowers and gardens, instead replaced by flat meadows and pseudo-farmland beside wide stretches of trees and thickets broken up only by roads and the occasional residence. Each house was far enough apart that shouting would only carry a faint echo to the next and none sat far into the edge of the woods, which left a wide berth of natural land that was mostly undisturbed.

Mostly.

Cruz's hands wrung the end of Tango's leash as they walked outside. The grass had much less room to grow past the treeline, which kept it short and tidy compared to Rob's lawn. There was a great deal of underbrush and sticks, fallen logs, all sorts of things that would get in the way of someone with legs that the croc was able to glide over easily.

He and the wolfhound hung back as Rob lead the way. An assortment of packs and gear were on his back, including a bright orange safety vest which he insisted Cruz wear one of as well. Tango sported one too, sort of, with the cloth tucked and tied in with his bandanna so it could be seen clearly without getting in the way – or looking stupid, as Rob said when Cruz helped Tango put his paws through the arm holes.

Everything in the forest was green and fresh, it was a good idea for the orange with Cruz in particular considering how well he might have blended in otherwise.

They walked quietly for some time with only the sound of birds and other animals. The peace was only broken on occasion if Rob stopped to point something out, like scratch marks in the bark or a well tread branch in the path made by animals. Cruz listened closely but most of his attention was on Rob's back and the spread of things he brought; of all of them, the croc's eyes most of all on the rifle.

Tango plodded along leisurely behind Rob, paying far more attention to all of the surrounding smells than where they were going. Cruz had to gently correct where the hound wandered to, which thankfully only took a few small tugs now and then.

With the wind at ahead of them, they found their way to a small clearing. From the arrangement of several logs and how some trees bowed, it appeared to have been used as a campsite at one time or another. When Rob stopped to sort through his things, Cruz walked with Tango halfway around the perimeter. The area was very nice, beautiful in a lot of ways, but there was a hanging unease looming over the mistletoe raevan's shoulders here.

”You listening?”

Cruz turned around to see Rob with his arms crossed a few yards back. When Cruz's confusion was detected, the man rolled his eyes and beckoned the two of them back with his hand.

”Sorry,” he said, stopped beside Tango.

Rob shook his head. ”I said, does your dog know any commands?”

”He knows a lot,” Cruz said proudly, beaming, ”He can do both paws, he knows when to use his inside voice, he can howl--”

”Useful ones.”

As Cruz dropped his eager smile for a confused pout down at his furry friend, Rob ran a hand over his face and scratched at his beard. ”You know, sit, heel, fetch?”

”Oh! Yeah he knows those. He knows some of them differently, but--” again, Rob cut him off.

”That's fine.” Rob's attention turned to the wolfhound, then, and his tone changed; he spoke clear and strong but was slower to sound out his words, like one might do to someone who had difficulty understanding. ”Tango, sit.”

Tango looked up intently at the sound of his name but as Rob spoke the command Tango's attention drifted almost immediately. Rob frowned. ”Sit,” he enunciated more forcefully. Tango ignored him.

Frown deepening, Rob looked at Cruz who smiled sheepishly with the leash bunched together in his hands. He reached out to scratch between Tango's ears, which instantly caused the mutt to relax. Cruz spoke more softly to the pup, keeping to a tone he would use in general conversation. ”Tango, can you sit?”

Even without that special power, Tango was much more inclined to respond to Cruz than Rob and sat without a fuss. Relieved, Cruz smiled up to Rob now that it was taken care of.

Rob wasn't smiling.

”Alright. Think you can make him stay still while we do this?” Cruz nodded stiffly. ”Then you can teach him to bring it back to us.”

Cruz brushed his fingers along Tango's back. ”It?”

”The kill.”

Suddenly he was back in that room, walls covered in trophies of death. Cruz knew that was what hunting entailed, killing, but now their task at hand was a cemented reality. He drifted, lopsided, before catching himself. Rob was too occupied sorting through his tools to notice; he mumbled to himself about how he hadn't worked with a hunting dog in a long time, that it would make this a lot more fun, they could go after something small to start with.

Cruz felt dizzy.

”Ever hold a gun before?” Rob asked, knelt with rifle in hand. He fished a pack of bullets from his bag.

”No.”

The question was laughable, considering he had never even seen a real one in the flesh; all of Cruz's gun experience was as a witness, exclusively from movies or games. He didn't want to change that now.

Rob grumbled. ”I'll do the first one, then. Show you how it's done.”

Heart in his throat, Cruz tailed after Rob into the denser woods. He kept his voice low and his steps cautious. This was the real deal now, he said, so they had to be quiet and careful to not scare anything off. He lost track of how much distance they covered already.

A nearby rustling caused Rob to stop, one arm out to signal the same for Cruz and Tango. Cruz held on to the very top of Tango's leash, near the clip, while Tango's attention was on the rustling as well but with a soft whisper to stay from the croc, he didn't budge. Rob knelt down on the forest floor and scanned the area for its source. While he was sure to keep peripheral awareness on the man – and his gun – Cruz was too busy hoping whatever it was would hide and that Tango would keep being a good boy.

”Got it.” Rob's voice sent a startling pang through Cruz's whole body. He pulled the rifle up and took aim with the dog and croc well behind him. ”It's a fox,” he whispered, staring down the iron sight of the barrel, ”you see it?”

Against all of the green, the vibrant fur of a red fox stuck out like a sore thumb. There was a small mound near a large fallen tree that the lone, sleek animal scurried out from. It sniffed the air from the entrance of a hole, then jumped up onto the log for a better vantage. They were down wind. It had no idea they were there.

Now that he found it, Cruz couldn't tear his eyes away. All of his concentration was split between keeping Tango away from the front of the gun and watching fearfully as the fox went about its business innocently. Rob was still whispering to him, something about how to handle the gun, but Cruz wasn't listening to a word of it with his heart beating so loudly in his ears. There was a muted click beside him as Rob readied the weapon to fire.

At the base of the mound, one small head popped out. Then another. Then a third.

His hands moved before anything else. He shoved Rob's arm and the side of the rifle just as the trigger was pulled – a deafening echo shot through the forest.

Every animal scattered; the family of foxes ran back into their hole, hundreds of birds flapped their wings, and one lone dog sped off with a crocodile's arm helplessly tangled in his leash. His ears were ringing so loudly Cruz couldn't hear himself cry out. They were moving so fast, everything was a blur; he spun haphazardly behind Tango like a balloon caught in the wind. He had no control, whipping in whatever direction Tango ran.

Cruz strained to reach his tangled arm with the free one but just as soon as he took hold of the lead his ribs collided with the side of a tree.

 

[Snoofington]

Ease My Mind
starring Anita & Duncan
featuring Mordekai & Tristan

Anita looked up from her DS screen. It was quiet in the apartment without even Tango traipsing around. Even Minerva was out tonight, seeing some friends in Durem. All of her family was a long ways away now and it was an odd feeling, having the apartment entirely to herself – not unwelcome but strange.

The beach skyline was already painted with orange and pink. Anita looked to the cable box across the room and frowned; a quarter past eight. She lost track of time with her game and no one around to break her concentration.

Setting it aside, Anita pulled her legs off the couch and planted her feet on the floor. Her phone said no missed calls, which only made her frown more. She scrolled to Cruz's name and set the phone to her ear as it rang.

Voicemail.

She tried again. Voicemail.

”Come on, butthead.” A third time yielded the same, so she scrolled a little further down her contacts and tried a different tack.

Duncan answered, sounding vaguely surprised. ”Ah-- hello, Anita?”

”Hi Duncan, sorry this is a little late,” her tone was calm, if apologetic, ”I was wondering if Cruz is over there yet? He hasn't called me.”

”Ah-- no, Cruz is not here... I'm sorry, Anita. Was he supposed to be over tonight? Did you speak with Mordekai about it?”

”He's--” She paused, confused. ”No, Cruz was setting it up, I thought he had the details squared away. I should have checked, I'm sorry.” A small, concerned sound drifted from her throat as she tried to wrap her mind around all of this.

”I see... I haven't heard a thing. Just a moment, Anita – let me go speak with Mordekai and see if he's heard from him.”

Anita rested back against the couch and answered quietly, ”Okay, thank you...”

She heard the phone set down against the counter and some sounds beyond; footsteps, voices, all muffled from distance but close enough she could discern them. Mordekai spoke first:

”Who's that behind the phone?”

”It's Anita. She was asking if Cruz was over... I can see he didn't come home with you from the farm.”

”No, ah-- Cruz was s'pose to be over today?”

”Did he speak with you about it?”

”No... Is he okay?”

”I'll update Anita.”

There was a brief silence before Duncan returned to the phone. ”I'm sorry, Anita, Cruz isn't here. I was hoping he was with Mordekai, since he had a late day and just returned...” She let out a quiet curse under her breath. ”When was the last time you heard from him?”

”It's been a few hours... I was hoping he wasn't picking up his phone because he got distracted playing with Aina.”

”I see... I'm so sorry, Anita.” Beyond the receiver, she heard Mordekai ask if they should go out looking but Duncan continued their current line of discussion, ”It isn't like him at all to do something like this... Do you have any ideas on where he could be? If he was making his way here, he must have gotten lost during the commute...”

”He was going somewhere else first and then heading over to your place.” At this, her voice drained of flimsy concern and became more sturdy, her tone flat. ”I'm going to call around. I know where he's supposed to be.”

”Is there any way we can help? Was he supposed to be in Barton, then?”

Anita sighed. ”I'm not sure. Can I call you back in a few minutes? I'll let you know if I turn up anything.”

”Of course, Anita. Please call us any time.” Once more, Mordekai's voice was heard a bit distantly. It made her smile, just a little, to hear his request for the phone. ”Mordekai has something to say to you.”

She agreed and, after only a moment, the blonds voice came through; soft but clear. ”Nita...?”

”Hey, babe...” Anita matched his volume but it just made her sound tired.

”H-hey...” he paused and her small smile waned, ”Cruz never tried runnin' away before, right? He knows he's gotta place at home...”

That caught her off guard. Anita hesitated, then sounded a little breathless. ”No, no, nothing like that... I don't think that's what this is about.” Of course, now that the thought was in the air, her stomach knotted.

”O-oke... just-- wanted to make sure... We can try callin' 'im too, just in case. This ain't like him--” It certainly wasn't. He could be single minded at times, easily distracted with tunnel vision, but if he forgot to call then he would pick up when she did; Cruz always had his phone with him. ”If we gotta go lookin' for 'im, we'll go anywhere, oke?”

”Thank you...” Anita brushed her bangs back and took a breath to steady herself, ”Yeah, if you can call him I'd really appreciate it. I'm-- going to call my dad. He's supposed to be around his brother's place and I don't have his number, so gotta jump through a couple hoops here.” She huffed, exasperated, ”I'll call you guys back in a bit, okay?”

”Yea, we'll call 'im... ah--” Mordekai paused to draw breath; it sounded like he was holding some emotion back from his voice, ”I gotcha... Lemme know if we gotta go kick some asses.”

She laughed humorlessly. ”Thanks. I'll talk to you in a few minutes. Love you.”

”Love you too... Talk t'you soon.”

With that, Anita stood from the couch. She called her dad and began a slow pace across the apartment floor while it rang. As soon as voicemail kicked in she hung up and tried again. This time he picked up on the second ring.

”Hey, Anita.” He sounded groggy but there was a small lilt to his voice, like he was pleasantly surprised.

”Hi dad. Are you at Rob's?”

There was a sluggish pause from Tristan. ”No, I didn't go today. Why?”

”Great,” she held her forehead, ”Can you call him for me?”

”Why don't I just give you his number?”

”I don't want his damn number, I just need you to ask him a question.”

His breath sputtered, ”Anita, watch your mouth.”

”Dad!”

After a bit of touch and go, Tristan finally got the gist of what was going on and agreed to phone his brother. Anita folded her arms and set her phone on the coffee table while making small circles around it. She couldn't concentrate on the game to kill time, not with something like this hanging over her, but there wasn't long before her father called back.

”Okay, he was there.”

Her heart sank. ”What do you mean 'was'?”

”He ran off into the woods and Rob can't find him.”

”Are you ******** serious...” Anita's voice left her as little more than a breath but it was enough for Tristan to pick up on.

”Anita--”

”Stop. I need to go. I need to go.”

It was a quick scramble for her keys and wallet. Anita was out the door in less than a minute, on the phone with Mordekai again as she made her way to the parking lot. They would get there faster than she would and they would have a wider spread of eyes across the expanse of woods.

"We'll be fine."

 

[Snoofington]

Searchlight

They were not fine.

His breathing was shallow. Bruised ribs kept his lungs from taking more than half their usual amount of air and the resulting soreness barred Cruz from breathing inhaling too quickly – save for one sharp inhale as consciousness returned with a slobbery tongue against his cheek.

Tango stood over him, sniffing his hair and licking his face. When his breath changed, the wolfhound nosed Cruz more eagerly. The ground was hard; he was on his back. He lifted his arms to drape them around Tango's neck but his entire body was sore. His right arm was especially uncooperative; it was limp and numb, able to be moved but scarcely articulated. Cruz grimaced and let it flop back to the forest floor, but something kept it elevated enough to dangle. It was still tightly wound in the leash.

After he was able to offer Tango just a bit of acknowledgment, the saarloos stepped back. Cruz pushed against the ground with his palm, gasping at the strain his body felt just to turn on his side. He took a moment to stabilize his breathing and let the ache lessen before setting to work on removing the leash that was cutting off his circulation. With a few moments of struggling, his arm dropped to the ground and Cruz let his head to the same until he could feel the prickles of blood filling his veins. As the feeling returned, so spread the soreness of a twisted shoulder and who knew how many more bruises that were already blooming under the skin.

He raised his head weakly. Tango was staying close but it was difficult to see through the long mess of green hair that spilled across his face like a curtain. It was all lose; the tie must have been pulled out and lost along the way.

With some careful maneuvering, Cruz slipped out of the orange vest that was already half off. It seemed Tango's was long gone, as the croc stole another glance. He huffed in effort to move the hair out of his face but his breath wasn't strong enough, forcing Cruz to lean his head back and to the side despite the tightness in his neck. Each movement drew out a wince or soft groan but eventually Cruz managed to prop himself up by his forearms and take in their surroundings.

The sky was dark. Sprinkles of starts dotted the sky where they weren't blocked by a thick canopy of trees; they couldn't offer enough light to bring any solace but it was enough to assure Cruz he hadn't smacked his head so hard he was seeing wrong. In every direction there were just more trees and underbrush. The night had ways of making even familiar places seem foreign but here they were in uncharted territory, alone.

”Tango,” Cruz whispered; he pat the ground twice with as little movement as possible to beckon the pup closer. Tango obliged, taking his time – he must have been just as tired.

His fingers sifted through the dog's fur until he reached the scruff of Tango's neck and held on. Cruz tried to pull himself up enough to float but he felt too heavy, too weak, and slid back to the ground. Even with the tightness of his ribs, his breath quickened.

Keeping one hand against Tango's side, Cruz scanned the immediate area. It was hard to make anything out in the cover of dark but on this night he had to thank himself for being forgetful; a small blue light pulsed slowly just a few feet away, the power light of his DS that was tucked away in his shoulder bag.

Claws dug into the soft earth to pull himself forward across the grass. Twigs and rocks poked against his chest and sides, scraping at his bare arms until he was close enough to retrieve it. He opened the flip top and immediately shielded his eyes from the bright dual screens. It wasn't much of a flashlight but it managed to cut through some of the surrounding gloom. Cruz pointed it around slowly, dim white light illuminating just barely a foot ahead. It was just enough to discern the shape of his bag, flap open and contents sprawled across the ground.

He made his way to it, Tango sticking close to Cruz's side. His house key was still attached to the ring, along with a few trinkets. One of them, a tiny little crocodile with a chompy jaw, was still intact. He clutched it fondly; the last remnant of a time before his plans went so wildly out of control. Cruz fumbled to remove it from the ring. Inside its mouth, the small LED lit up and served as a stronger light source than the DS which he slid back into the bag. Nearby were a number of things; the printed directions, his bus pass, a half empty bottle of water, and some other useless knickknacks. Clumsily, he patted down the bag and its other pockets but found them equally devoid of anything useful; just a small baggy of games, a pencil, some post-its, and a pair of chargers. The phone was gone.

With a pleading whine, Cruz lowered his head again. He pulled everything he could back into the bag and closed it up. When struggling to get it back over himself resulted in nothing but pain, the frei draped it over Tango's neck so he could carry it instead.

They stayed there for a while more, he couldn't be sure how long. He split the rest of the water bottle between Tango and himself, pouring some into his hand for Tango to lap up while he nursed the bottle. Finished, Cruz tried once again to use Tango as leverage to pull himself up but there was no floating in his state. He heaved himself onto Tango's back and felt the wolfdog hunch slightly; normally Cruz never put his full weight onto the pup, or scarcely any weight at all, but he didn't have the energy to lift himself. Cruz grimaced and stroked the fur along Tango's sides as a show of apology. He let his head rest between Tango's shoulders and looped his fingers beneath the bandanna as Tango began a slow plod towards who knew where.

He must have drifted in and out of consciousness half a dozen times but each time Cruz opened his eyes it all looked the same. If they could find their way back to that one clearing it might be enough to navigate back to the edge of the woods but there was no telling how far out they were, how long Tango had been running, or how many trees Cruz smacked into along the way.

Then there was the matter of what to do once they were out. The only person they knew in the vicinity was Rob, who must not have been too thrilled at the stunt Cruz pulled. In all the ringing and panic, Cruz couldn't recall if Rob tried to follow them. That didn't matter now, obviously; he lost track of them either way. Without a phone, he couldn't call anyone but Rob certainly had a phone in his house.

Something told the croc it wouldn't be the best idea to ask if he could use it after this.

One saving grace was that the woods themselves didn't seem particularly dense, save in a few spots. There were no full clearings that they passed but it wasn't a constant struggle to wave a path through the surrounding trees. Tango's direction was quite loose but Cruz didn't have the wherewithal to correct it, let alone the knowledge. However, the longer they walked the more sounds they heard that weren't just animals scurrying in the night.

They were distant things but he recognized them all the same; wheels rolling over dirt and gravel, the low hum of an engine, and – with a little more time – voices. Muffled as they were, he could discern at least two – maybe three. As far as they were, they must have been shouting for it to carry so far.

Even without having to direct him, Tango seemed intent to find the source of the voices. He knew that was their best bet to get home just as well as Cruz did. Slowly, steadily, the voices grew louder and more clear. Tango's stride picked up to a light trot at the higher voice, still too tired and weighed down to gallop.

”...go!”

He couldn't place it.

”...ango!”

It sounded familiar but his head was so clouded with ache.

”Cruz!”

Suddenly there was too much going on. Beams of light moved through the trees, crunching leaves and snapping twigs surrounded him, voices and hands pouring over him while Cruz tried desperately to shield his eyes and plug his ears. Something pulled him away from Tango and he didn't have the strength to fight back.

Barking, shouting. Something shut behind him and he felt like he was in a bubble. Cruz opened his eyes. He was in a car. A few short glances around the interior told him of its familiarity.

This was Anita's car.

He didn't dare move. The passenger seat was leaned back as far as it could go so he could lie down. Noise was collecting outside into what was practically a single sound, muted by the closed doors of the Oldsmobile. Tango was barking. Anita was shouting. There were two other voices, one angry. His brain couldn't process anything they were saying.

One of the rear doors opened and Tango jumped inside, then the driver's side with Anita. Before she slammed it shut, there was an unceremonious

[Snoofington]

Fun's Over

All too soon, the car stopped. Overhead, a light turned on and Cruz retreated under the cover of his arm. Uneven breath beside him tried to change to sound but nothing coherent came out until Tango whined.

”Cruz, hey--” he stirred as his bangs were brushed back, ”can you look at me?”

Slowly, he lowered his arm. It was bright even behind his eye lids. Cruz fluttered them a few times, just barely opening them against the interior light. Everything was blurry and he did nothing to change that yet. Anita's hands pulled back more of his hair; she worked with delicate caution so as not to disturb him but he could hear her breath hitch with soft lamentations the more she looked over him.

He murmured, stretched, then hissed as a sharp ache moved up his side. For a few seconds, he stayed in the same position until the muscle began to relax and Cruz eased himself against the seat.

”Hi, Nita...”

Anita released the breath she must have been holding; it took her a moment to refill her lungs. ”What happened to you?” Even with it, she still sounded breathless. ”You're all banged up...”

Cruz grimaced as he adjusted just enough to stop one of his fins from bending strangely beneath him. ”Trees.”

”What?”

”Hit some... trees--” His eyes adjusted and he allowed them to open more. ”Tango ran. Was pulling me.”

Anita moved back in her seat and Cruz realized she had been hovering quite close. He could hear her swallow and struggle for words before she managed to speak. ”Is anything broken?”

He rumbled, low and tired. ”Don't think so... Can move everything.”

”Okay...” Anita looked over him warily. His right arm had time for the swelling and bruising to start, all along his forearm from his wrist to his elbow. There were a few other obvious scrapes along both arms, and some on his face, but they were small and did little more than sting. ”Are you okay to talk?”

Cruz nodded, just twice, and let his eyes close again.

”I-I need you to tell me what happened when we hung up. Can you do that?”

The croc's lip curled into a cringe, sharp teeth grit tightly as he rolled himself from his side to his back. He took several seconds to breathe and recover, then nodded a little more easily to Anita. ”Got inside, 'n... we talked – a little. Went to the woods. He wanted to see if-- if I was a good hunter. Said it'd be fun... together... 'cause-- 'cause we're family now--”

He opened his eyes to the passenger window that looked nothing more than a black box with the car light on. It sounded foolish, now that he was saying it, but Cruz knew from the beginning that hunting would not be a fun venture. The problem was, how do you say no to someone with a gun?

”Pushed him... so he wouldn't shoot a fox-- but it was loud... Tango pulled me, and-- we got lost...”

Cruz turned his head toward Anita, brows knit high and eyes clouded. ”I lost my phone.”

”We'll get a new one,” Anita dismissed quickly.

She returned a hand to him so she could check for anymore obvious injuries. There was no telling how messed up he was under his clothes, if his arm was any indication. Cruz was going to be purple for a few days. With a trembling breath, Anita turned forward and stared out into the black expanse past the windshield. ”We're not doing this anymore...”

When Cruz vocalized, she shook her head.

”We're not. We're done.” He heard Anita's voice crack. She reached for her phone. There was a strange calm to the level of her voice but it wavered unsteadily with every word.

His eyes felt heavy and Cruz did nothing to stop them from closing. ”I got him. Yeah. Where are you? ...Okay, we'll meet you there. Bye.”

 

[Snoofington]

Back to Start

Her phone wouldn't stop ringing.

It had already been a day and a half since the hunting night. Anita convened with Mordekai and Duncan at another part of the Barton woods as soon as Cruz was retrieved and even on the ride back it would ring periodically. Now they were home after a day of bed rest at the Clarke-Kantor household and it rang even more. Always the same number: her father.

Cruz was far from recovered but he was mobile and that was a relief. His movements were sluggish and terribly stiff, his right shoulder was the worst of all and he felt like he had no strength, but floating and speaking was much less of a trial. Being showered with gentle kisses during his waking hours was a large contribution to his raised energy levels and the croc was endlessly grateful.

Except, now, there was this issue to contend with. Voicemails were piling up but for the most part Tristan would call immediately after there was no response, several times in a row before leaving one. Anita refused to listen to them at all. She silenced his rings, sometimes even answering just to hang up without speaking. At work Anita had to turn her phone off entirely, so she said while complaining to Minerva. And oh, Minerva was livid. Threats of violence toward Rob fell eagerly from her lips, which only made Cruz sink further into his bed sheets.

This wasn't what he wanted. None of it was – but he was the cause. Everyone was upset now, scared and angry, because he went poking too far in a direction he didn't understand.

Why, then, was none of the anger falling on him?

”Are you mad?” Cruz asked Anita as she tucked him in the first night.

There were a lot of conflicting emotions then, from the wet glint in her eyes to an otherwise stony disposition like the one she wore after the barbecue. She paused her movements to look at him, only meeting his eyes for a second, then continued making him comfortable.

”Not at you.”

But she would be, if she knew. There was no way Cruz could deny that – he never could.

He trailed lazily around the apartment. It would take time before he was back in action but lying in bed all day made him far too restless this time of year. On the floor, Tango rested with similar ache and tired. Thankfully, the worst thing the pup had to deal with was a minor cut on one of his paw pads and it already seemed to be healing nicely. It was still tender, so Tango didn't like walking much the last couple of days, but that was alright for both of them. Cruz would make his rounds through the apartment to bring Tango his food and water, take the bowls back into the kitchen, then when he had to go out Cruz only took him down just past the parking lot.

Neither of them wanted to move but they couldn't keep still all day long. It was the worst while Anita and Minerva were at work – which Cruz insisted they should do. He hadn't broken anything, there were no major cuts, he only needed bed rest and didn't need constant supervision for that when he was far too sore to get up to any mischief.

There was little else he could do, though, besides wile away time with Tango until they returned. Sometimes they would nap or watch TV but holding a controller or a portable console required too much dexterity and keeping his arms in the same position to work for more than a few minutes. That left the croc with a distressing amount of time to wallow in his own thoughts and he did not like it. It was lonely and quiet and it made him feel uneasy.

When Anita returned from her shift, she set her phone down on the kitchen counter as it powered back on. It vibrated more times than Cruz cared to count and sounded off a variety of Super Mario sounds as it caught up on all of its notifications through out the day before it finally fell silent.

He heard Anita sigh in the kitchen as the silence persisted. It only lasted long enough for her to take some leftovers out of the fridge.

She dropped them roughly on the counter top and stormed over to her phone as its ringtone happily chimed. There was only a second-long delay before she interrupted the tone and Cruz braced for another few minutes of this stop and go harassment.

”Stop ******** calling.”

The phone beeped. She hung up. Cruz peeked slowly from behind the side of the couch. She had her arms folded against the counter, cradling her head.

Everything had gone so horribly wrong; he didn't want things to end like this.

 

[Snoofington]

Making Adjustments

Things quieted over the next several hours. Anita's phone finally stopped ringing off the hook; they were all finally able to relax a little and have some peace. As Cruz was getting ready for bed, Anita poked her head into the bathroom. His lips were wound around a toothbrush; he raised his brows.

“Is your shoulder still bugging you?” she asked, craning her neck to see.

Cruz turned where he floated and looked at it as well. He took a moment to stretch and roll it slowly; the familiar ache was still present even at rest but it noticeably increased as he attempted to show some dexterity. With a pout, Cruz nodded and leaned over the sink to spit.

Anita nodded as well. ”I think I'll call Zeke after work tomorrow and set up an appointment.” The croc glanced up while giving his teeth another once-over. ”It's not really an emergency but you're overdue anyway... Better to be safe.”

”Mm--” Cruz spit again, this time he leaned close to the faucet and took some water to rinse, ”Think I'll be okay but if you want to,” he offered Anita a sleepy smile, ”Haven't seen him in a long time.”

”Yeah, I know,” Anita hummed and dipped Cruz's head towards her with a gentle pull so she could kiss his hair, ”Get good sleep.”

”You too,” the frei rumbled as he rinsed his brush.

Sleep was coming more easily but Cruz's thoughts were still swimming. He wanted to do something to fix this, but the more he meddled the worse things seemed to become. A pit formed in his chest when Anita told her dad to stop calling – Cruz didn't want to believe that was how things were going to end.

Was this really so unavoidable? It felt like history was repeating itself. He wanted it to stop.

The day started a little slow. Minerva was already gone for her morning shift before Cruz or Anita were awake. He was still sluggish; each day made movement a little easier but also brought with it a new set of issues. All of his bruises were healing, which made them look so much worse than they really were not to mention making them far more sensitive to the slightest press. That made lounging far less comfortable, which only served to make the croc even more restless than before.

When Anita said her goodbyes before work, Cruz opened the screen doors and drifted onto the balcony. August had been here for almost a week but it still felt no different from July and to that Cruz was grateful. The warmth of the air was helpful to him, the sun darkening his skin with its own enveloping kiss.

His fingers curled loosely around the railing. Below was a view equal parts summer tourism and mundane parking lot. Anita was parked out back today; the lot in the front of the building thanks to the front being overcrowded. It was too high and out of the way for Anita to see him wave but he watched as she made her way to that familiar Cutlass with a small smile. One or two cars drifted around as well, so he didn't pay it any mind when one pulled up very close to Anita's until she stopped and her father exited.

Cruz's knuckles turned white from his grip on the metal bar but he was too weak to sustain it for more than a second.

”Stay,” Cruz said to Tango while moving past the hound as quickly as he could. It was rare he gave much thought to the convenience of having proper wings like Cesc or Iorek but they surely would have helped him move faster to the elevator than his small fins that could only shiver with anticipation.

The ride down was equally agonizing. As soon as the doors opened, Cruz gripped the edges with his claws and pushed himself forward. The boost was meager but it felt better to him than hovering at his standard pace.

He could see them distantly through the glass of the back doors. Tristan's back was turned and Anita looked like she was shouting but he couldn't read her lips. Her father reached out and she pushed his arm away just as Cruz slipped out the door. Neither of them noticed him. Anita was already turning to get into her car – he could hear Tristan trying to get her attention, saying her name over and over, but she slammed the door and started the engine without another word.

When she drove off, he just stood there with a hand in his hair and watched her go. Cruz approached silently. The man startled as fingers wrapped around his arm and he turned quickly to face the raevan. Their green eyes met, one set wild and one determined.

”Be nicer to Anita.”

 

[Snoofington]

Restitution

He didn't know if that was the right thing to do but, to Cruz, it felt like what needed to happen.

The door shut softly as he returned to the apartment. Tango greeted him curiously and the croc placated him with a good amount of scratches under his chin and behind his ears.

It was a vague thing to demand, he knew, but it was all he could think of; the only thing that seemed like it might have a real chance at fixing the problems between them that he had caused. Cruz had to wonder where they would be now if he never bothered visiting Rob. Would Anita just be annoyed with her uncle that she would never have to see again and continue speaking to her dad on the path they were forging or was this something inevitable that would have just sparked later down the road?

There was no use dwelling on it now.

Waiting for Anita to come home was painful. Cruz had to keep stopping himself from thinking in circles, worrying over things he couldn't change, speculation upon speculation. It all weighed him down until he felt exhausted enough to nap.

Tango stayed with him on the bed as they both drifted in and out of consciousness. His fingers idly brushed through the dog's fur, bringing them both to a relaxed state.

It felt as though time was moving so slowly until he heard the door unlock, then it felt like it had moved entirely too fast.

”Back already?” Cruz asked as he followed Tango out of the bedroom.

Anita closed the door with her foot. Her hands were full with a large, colorful gift basket that she was regarding with befuddlement. ”Short shift,” she said, sounding distracted. Anita walked it to the dining table and set it on the clearest space she could find.

”Did you know about this?” Anita asked while looking it over. When Cruz shook his head, she frowned. ”It was sitting in front of the door.”

”Didn't hear anyone knock.”

With a cautious hum, Anita began removing things from the basket. There was a broad assortment of goodies inside; sweet treats that she smiled at, like cookies and microwaveable s'mores bites, and a few things she looked confused about, strawberry fruit chews in particular. The basket itself had a yellow ribbon woven around the handle. It was stuffed with several cloth flowers in all sorts of colors, the kind that sold quite readily around Gambino for the use of making leis that were less irritating than the cheap plastic kind.

Anita reached inside further and found a small card. The only thing written on the front was her name.

Cruz's brows lifted expectantly. ”It's for you.”

She nodded and flipped the to open. Her hip rested against the side of the table as she started to read, only for her to turn away from Cruz. Anita scoffed. ”Unbelievable.”

Her voice was flat.

”What's wrong?”

”This is a new low. Thanks, dad.” She tossed the card onto the table.

Cruz stared between it, the basket, and Anita. ”Why's it bad?”

Anita scoffed. ”Trying to buy my forgiveness is a d**k move. He just wants me to stop being mad.” She snatched the card up again. Cruz looked on in horror and she tore it in several pieces – clean and methodical.

”W-what if this him apologizing?” his voice quavered uncertainly.

She was unfazed. ”He is apologizing but it's not because he's actually sorry,” walking to the trashcan, she continued, ”It's more convenient for him if I'm not mad but I'm gonna be mad and if he doesn't want to deal with the fact that his brother's an a*****e then I don't care.” The lid closed roughly. Cruz flinched. ”He's being selfish.”

If Cruz had a stomach, it would have dropped.

The croc fumbled to find words. He made a few soft, pleading sounds that Anita didn't notice. She picked up the basket and started to organize the things she liked and some of the flowers onto the counter space.

”How--” Cruz finally managed, ”how is apologizing selfish?”

It didn't make sense. He couldn't understand.

Anita didn't pause in her movements or look up at him but she answered coolly, ”He doesn't even know what he should be apologizing for. I'm so tired of this.”

His chest hurt, like his ribs were tightening around his heart and lungs.

”A-are you-- not going to talk to him anymore?” The shake in his voice was growing more obvious with each word. ”Forever?”

That made Anita pause. She looked up from sorting out the bad gifts, the unthoughtful ones of things she couldn't eat or didn't like, and sighed. ”I don't want to keep going back and forth. I'm done.”

Cruz clutched at the front of his shirt. ”B-but-- but I--” he struggled. The look on Anita's face grew more concerned; she set the basket down. ”--I made him be nicer to you.” His heart hammered so hard he could feel it in every part of him.

Anita's face paled.

 

[Snoofington]

Mistakes

”What?”

Cruz's hands moved to his head. Suddenly his breath was quick and shallow and he stared at Anita with a level of apprehension he hadn't felt since they searched together in the jungle.

”I-I--” he stuttered weakly. It felt like his throat was blocked by his heart, beating away like it had a mind of its own.

”What do you mean you made him?” There was no frustration in her voice now; it was flooded away by emotions Cruz never wanted to hear in Anita's voice, least of all directed at him. She sounded hurt, sad, confused – scared.

He breathed harshly and tried again. ”It's-- it's my fault,” Cruz tangled his fingers in his hair, ”that he c-called you again. I just-- I just thought he g-got confused in the phone s-switch, I-I didn't--” He couldn't even look at her. ”I-I thought it would be a good thing, it-- it was, it was a good thing, b-but I--”

The sound of Anita's footsteps coming closer did little to calm him. Cruz clenched his eyes shut as she approached but just as quickly as they started they stopped.

”Cruz,” Anita was forcing her voice to be calm, he could tell, ”how did you make him be nicer to me?”

A pitiful whine escaped him. ”T-today-- in the parking lot. I told him to be nicer... and he did. H-he got you this a-and he apologized but-- it wasn't enough.” Cruz shook his head and repeated, more softly, ”it wasn't enough...”

The question at large remained unanswered as he choked back tears. He was shaking, he felt overheated and dizzy; it was like his body was punishing him for upsetting Anita, for taking things too far.

”I don't know how,” answered Cruz after several agonizing moments of forcing his lungs to get more air, ”I-I just-- can. I can m-make people do things. Just t-tell them something a-and they do it.”

His cheeks were wet but he didn't dare move to wipe them. He was afraid to open his eyes and see Anita staring back at him, though the urge grew with each passing second of silence from her.

”It's your essence,” she finally whispered; it offered Cruz no solace or insight. Was she mad at him? Was she scared of him? ”How long have you been able to?”

”Spring,” guessed Cruz – he couldn't be sure anymore.

Anita sounded short of breath, herself. ”How-- how many people have you used it on?”

He whined again. This time he only managed to shrug.

”Who else did you do this too?”

She was sounding more desperate and Cruz's words felt like they were running away from him.

”Did you use it on me?”

Cruz's eyes opened. He stared helplessly at the floor. Everything was a blur, his eyes took turns dipping like a leaky faucet. He felt frozen in place and wished so badly for it to be true, for him to be trapped in time and not have to explain this anymore. It was out in the open now and every new sliver of information he imparted to Anita made things that much worse.

Slowly, he nodded.

Anita's breath hitched. ”When?” Her voice trembled.

”A f-few,” he eked out pathetically. ”W-when you weren't sure about l-lunch, after the b-barbecue in the car...” Cruz swallowed. His throat felt so dry it only made breathing that much harder. ”So I could... g-go to Rob's.”

Something dropped to the floor. He peeled his eyes back to clear them enough to discern what it was beyond a shapeless blob but the tears refused to stop.

”Y-you can't,” Anita said, almost too quietly for him to catch. He winced and shut his eyes as she grew louder, ”You can't do that, Cruz! Y-you can't just control people!”

He pressed his hands tightly over his face as he choked down more tears. He pushed so tightly against his closed eyes that it hurt. A kaleidoscope of muted color whirled against the blackness he fled to so there would be no more of this.

Except he couldn't run.

”That's so wrong,” Anita's voice shook and cracked, ”Why are you doing this?”

Cruz tried to speak but every sound came out an incoherent mess. He shook his head and fought himself to gain some amount of steadiness, no matter how bare. ”W-wanted to help,” he wailed, ”I just wanted to help!”

”This doesn't help anyone!” cried Anita, ”Taking away someone's choice isn't helpful, it's oppressive! Do you understand how wrong that is?!”

She was so loud. Never had he heard her be this loud, this upset, and never at him.

Fear shot through Cruz; he flinched away from her voice, all of her raw emotion, but that did nothing to quiet it. Anita kept going but her words were getting lost in the loud static of his brain that grew more harsh as she continued. Please, he wanted to say, please stop. No more. Let me apologize. Stop.

"How could you think something this cruel would do any good?"

All of the air was ripped out of his lungs. Sobs wracked him so hard he couldn't make a sound. He just wanted to explain. None of this was supposed to go so badly. His hands, weak and shaking, reached out in front of him. ”Don't,” he heard Anita warn as his hands found her skin. Both hands took hold of her arm. ”Cruz, let go!” She tried to pry one of his hands off but that arm was taken into his trembling grasp as well. ”Get off!”

He didn't even hear himself, at first – not past Anita's protests and the slamming of his heart in his ear drums. The words came tumbling from his mouth when he thought they were only in his head. ”Stop, stop, stop,” he chanted with his eyes shut so tightly they might never open again, ”stop, stop, STOP!”

And everything did.

In his hands, Anita's wrists fell limp. She stopped shouting.

Winded, Cruz stayed still as a stone in this relative calm. There was a persistent whining sound that he dismissed as ringing in his ears until his pulse calmed enough for him to hear Tango's concern. He pressed his cold nose to the croc's elbow and caused Cruz to flinch so hard his eyes flew open with no resistance.

Before him, Anita stood with more calm and quiet than he could remember her ever having. She was always far from a boisterous sort but the sudden dip was jarring. Cruz's eyes scanned her posture, her body language, but there was no sign of discomfort or upset now; she stood softly, relaxed, and he let out a slow breath. The only thing he couldn't bring himself to check yet was her face for fear of finding some otherwise hidden upset and renewing his stream of tears.

”I'm sorry,” he told her, still short of breath. Cruz grimaced as he lowered their arms and moved his hands down to hold hers. She didn't react. ”Didn't want it to go like this... Just w-wanted you and your dad happy together. I'm sorry, Nita...”

She said nothing.

His lips quivered. ”Nita, please, I'm sorry...”

Nothing.

When sobs threatened to draw back at her silence, Cruz forced himself to scan upward. Her mouth was drawn in a small line, not a frown and not a smile, both brows rested in their neutral position above her eyes – but her eyes; they weren't looking at him. They weren't looking at anything. Anita's eyes were just as blank and empty as the rest of her suddenly was.

He demanded she stop and she did. She stopped speaking. She stopped moving. He stopped her from doing or feeling anything at all.

”Nita--” Cruz choked. He dropped her arms and they dangled lifelessly at her sides. His hands touched her face, her hair, explored in ways Anita would undoubtedly recoil from. There was no reaction at all. ”No, no, no--”

It seemed the only things he didn't stop were basic life functions; she had a pulse, she was breathing, and though it happened at a much slower rate Anita would still blink. Anything more seemed completely out of her scope. The realization dawned on Cruz, then, that he had no idea how to stop his commands once they were given. He lost the strength to hover at the thought of Anita being like this forever.

Wait, he inhaled sharply and took hold of Anita's hands again. Cruz brought them together, clasped in his own, and leaned his forehead against them. If stop worked like this, then it stood to reason... ”Go.”

He held his breath.

There was no change.

”Go!” Cruz tried more forcefully.

This only succeeded in drawing Tango's concern back to him. He huffed as the saarloos nosed his face until Cruz had to lift his head and Tango replaced it, leaning his own across Cruz's arms and whine at the both of them. Cruz let his forehead rest between Tango's ears.

Inside was a roiling storm of screaming guilt but the croc's body just didn't have the energy to keep letting it out. It whirled inside him like a maelstrom and all he could do was cry into Tango's fur. Never in his life had he faced this kind of crisis alone. Any time there was an emergency, Anita was always there to scoop him up and explain what to do or suggest something they could try. His breath hitched.

Emergency.

Cruz lifted his head. That single word repeated in his head like a mantra. His eyes went wild as newfound purpose coursed through his veins and, with it, returned the frantic devastation roiling inside of him.

His hands patted Anita down, searching for the lifeline he lost in the woods. He freed the phone from her pocket so sloppily he nearly dropped it. Clutched tight to his chest like a treasure, Cruz searched Anita's contact list for someone that might be able to help.