~Sibirskaia 8~
Blood & Water
Smoke & Fire
(November 4th)
A red pen glided along white paper...the top page of a slowly diminishing stack.
It was Monday, it was lunch time, and all James Callaway would be having today, was a single granola bar. But it couldn't be helped. These worksheets wouldn't grade themselves, and he hadn't even glanced at them over the weekend. Of course, with attending the funeral on Friday, spending Saturday with Scott and Jeffery, and then helping Hunter move, yesterday...he hadn't exactly had the time.
And so he sat -- a forgotten, half-eaten, supposedly-chocolate-flavored granola bar teetering on the edge of his desk -- and sifted through his students' work. It wasn't a difficult task, but it was an engrossing one...consuming. To the point, in fact, that he didn't even notice he had a visitor in his classroom, until their voice caught his ear...
``Look what I found.''
It was Scott, of course. Who else? But before the raccoon could turn his eyes up to meet the fox, a smart phone landed atop of his stack of worksheets, with a heavy, muted thud.
But this was all? This what he `found'? ``A student's pho-?''
James's words caught in his throat, though, when he realized exactly what was staring back at him. There, lit up on the screen, bright as day, was the picture of a tiger...his paws flat against a restroom stall, as he buried himself into the muzzle of a hyena...whose face lay blurry and hidden behind the feline's hips.
``Holy shit!'' the raccoon nearly squealed as he snatched up the phone. ``You actually caught a student looking at gay porn?'' And, feeling his sheath already stirring to life, he finally turned his eyes upon his lover and coworker: ``Scott! This is like the first two minutes of every fantasy I ever paw off to!''
But Scott just offered a soft little laugh, ``So you've told me.''
Immediately, James began looking about the room, hoping in vain to find the phone's owner. Of course, though, he and Scott were alone, ``He's not with you?'' He flashed the saddest pleading expression he could muster at his boyfriend, ``Come on, Scott! You're missing a golden opportunity, here!''
``I might be...if these were porn,'' the fox tapped the edge of the phone.
``It certainly looks like porn, to me!''
``It may LOOK like it,'' he explained slowly, in a tone that James felt was far too serious for such a joyous occasion, ``but these are two of our students.''
``Oh?'' the raccoon tilted his head for a moment, before it occurred to him just what that meant. ``Oh! Somebody got caught in the act?''
Scott nodded once as he went along: ``Yeah, it seems these pictures have been making the rounds with the kids, by way of text messages, all day. Apparently, half the student body has already seen them, and I'm just the first teacher to actually catch anybody with them.''
James smirked, ``Lucky you.''
``No. Lucky kid!'' the fox argued. ``If anybody else had caught him, they would have turned him in to the principal.''
``And you won't?'' James asked on reflex. But before his coworker could answer: ``Wait, what ARE you gonna' do? You know...other than save a copy of the picture for yourself...''
And Scott just rolled his eyes, ``...yeah, I'll let you do that.''
The raccoon let loose a sharp laugh, ``YEAH you will!'' and quickly pulled open a drawer, digging through it for the cable that he knew was buried somewhere inside. ``By the way, are you even allowed to just snatch up a kid's phone like this?''
``As far as I know. And it's not like he tried to stop me, anyway.''
Soon enough, James found that cord tangled and wrapped around his stapler. Did he really use both of those so seldom, that they'd been in there long enough to end up like that? Regardless, though, he'd found it. So, with a sigh, he set the phone aside, and went about untangling the cord. But...
``Before you do that,'' Scott plucked the phone back up from the desk. ``Apparently you didn't hear me right. I said pictures...with an S.'' With a delicate flick of his wrist, the fox swiped the phone's screen...
...and then handed it back to his raccoon.
The picture James was met with, now, was much the same as the last: a tiger's back, and a kneeling hyena half obscured by that cat's legs and hips. This one, though, was from a slightly different angle...it appeared to have been taken moments later...and their positions had changed between the shots. Only one of the tiger's paws was still on the stall, now, while the other shielded his eyes. Meanwhile, the hyena, it seemed, had fumbled to the side, holding himself up with a paw on the dirty floor.
And now...the two startled boys had turned to face the camera.
In an instant, the entire complexion of the situation changed. The raccoon's smile faded, and his groin calmed beneath the cloth. It all made sense, now. He realized why Scott had seemed so thoroughly unamused. He recalled the uncomfortable silence, when Mic and Hunter had returned from their night on the town. He recognized their clothes, finally, in the picture. And he kicked himself, inside, for being so spectacularly dense.
But what could he and Scott do about this? Was there anything that COULD be done? Maybe they really should consider turning this kid in to the principal, after all. Then there could be an investigation! The police could trace these texts back from phone to phone...so they could figure out where they came from, and just who took the pictures to begin with. Maybe they could even stop them before they spread any further!
But, no. No. He'd heard of stories like this in the past. Hunter and Mic were minors. This -- what he was holding in his paw -- was child pornography. He'd heard of teenagers being prosecuted for sharing, or even just having, this sort of thing before -- even of themselves, let alone of other students -- and he couldn't do anything like that to some poor, innocent kid. The only thing this one had done was get a text message, for God's sake! They couldn't punish him for that...
But what SHOULD they do? And more importantly...
``Does Elliot know? Has he seen this?'' the raccoon looked back at his fox, again...
...but Scott could only shrug in response, ``I have no idea. He didn't come to school today.''
``Do you think...that maybe this is WHY he didn't?''
``You mean that he saw the pictures, and didn't want to be anywhere near Hunter? It crossed my mind, yeah.''
James sighed as he looked back at the picture and imagined the husky's reaction. ``Well, even if he hasn't seen `em, yet...it won't be long before he does.''
``And in the middle of the divorce,'' the fox added, ``this is the last thing that boy needs!''
``The divorce? That's the least of it!'' James held the phone out to his lover, leaving this to him to handle from here. ``Did I not tell you about the accusations his mother just made?''
``No. You told me,'' Scott nodded as he switched off the phone. ``But that's just another piece of the-''
``Scott?'' a voice cut him short. A new voice from somewhere behind the fox...
...and James marveled at the feat that followed. Scott's paws moved with purpose and grace, slipping the phone into his pocket. He didn't move too quickly. If he had, it would have drawn unneeded interest: called attention to his sudden alarm. But he moved deftly enough, nonetheless, that the phone was hidden before the intruder -- whomever he was -- could have even hoped to notice it was there.
And with it gone, the fox turned and stepped aside, affording James the line of sight needed to find a familiar and imposing polar bear, Principal Rivers, standing in the door to his room...
``Oh good,'' Mr. Rivers smiled in what appeared to be relief. ``Kim said I'd find you here with James.''
``You've been looking for me?'' Scott stood straighter, ``Is something wrong?''
And the bear averted his eyes, paws shifting on the floor, ``We have a...bit of a situation, Scott.'' He was uncomfortable. It was uncharacteristic, and it was alarming. But not so alarming as the next words to come out of his mouth: ``There are some detectives here to speak with you.''
``Detectives?'' Scott recoiled at the word...
...and James felt himself do the same. Detectives? Why would there be detectives here? Why would they need to see Scott? Was this about the pictures? Had another teacher confiscated a phone, as well? Did they know Scott had one in his possession, too? Or had THIS phone's owner gone to the principal, himself?
Then again, this might all just be wishful thinking. Because it could be much, much worse. After all...detectives? What if it had something to do with Jeffery?
What if they'd been found out?
~
No. His secret was safe.
He was safe. He was safe. William Masters repeated it, again and again, as he paced aimlessly through his apartment. From his and Aaron's bedroom, he wandered to his living room, stopping to flip through a stack of magazines he had no intention of reading. From the magazines, he tread into the kitchen, past his nephew at the fridge, and to the pantry, to open it for at least the seventh time. From the pantry, he padded back to the living room and to his desk, shaking his mouse to stir his computer from its sleep, only to lose interest after only the shortest glance. From his desk, he shuffled to a window and glanced outside, checking once more to see if anyone was approaching. And from that window, he trailed back to his couch, where he finally sat...
...but how long he could really expect to sit still?
This was stupid. It was stupid and it was selfish. Everything was fine, and this wasn't about him, anyway. This was about Toffy and Elliot. This was about his brother and his nephew, and they needed him! He didn't need to be freaking out about his own secrets and sins...
And no one was interested in him anyway. They were looking at Toffy. The only thing anyone would want from him was to answer questions about his brother. Everything would be fine. He just had to be calm and to make it through today, and everything would be fine.
He was safe. He was safe.
He wanted to rise again. He could feel his knee beginning to shake, demanding he stand and pace. But he held it back. He controlled himself, and, instead, simply turned his eyes on his brother. It was a grim sight. It was cold and quiet. And he couldn't decide whether or not he envied Toffy's stoicism...
The elder husky sat still...his feet rested flat, and his back held straight against the cushioned recliner. One paw lay relaxed on the arm of the chair, the other held a nearly empty tumbler of nerve-calming scotch, and his eyes were locked on the ice cubes behind the glass.
He was a statue. And in a way, Will envied him. He wished he could be so still, so calm. But then again, he could only guess what was going on behind those eyes. And perhaps Toffy wished HE could be the one pacing a rut in the floor to shake off his tension.
And certainly, that tension had to be building. William knew it was for HIM, and he could see it in Elliot, just the same. Any moment now, the door bell would ring. Any moment, the detectives would arrive. Toffy had been warned they'd be visiting today, coming to investigate Robyn's accusations. It was why Elliot was home from school. It was why Toffy was lost, staring into his drink.
And it was why Will's paw was tapping the floor hard enough to rattle a coffee table feet away.
But soon enough -- though whether it was merciful or terrifying, he couldn't say -- the doorbell rang.
``And, that would be them,'' Toffy spoke for the first time in close to an hour.
He set his drink aside and rose, and his younger brother was right behind. But as they trudged toward the door, Will shuddered, paused, and shook, forcing away the last of his nerves. And before him, his brother let out a soft chuckle...
``I swear: you seem even more nervous than I am.''
``Do I?''
As Elliot's stepped up from behind -- fresh from the kitchen with nothing to eat or drink, much like every trip his uncle had made -- Toffy took in a breath, and opened the door. There, in the apartment's breezeway were, they could only assume, the detectives they'd been waiting to see: a female badger and a male dachshund, in their semi-formal dress and plastic smiles.
But William met them with a more genuine smile of his own. Because they were alone! There were no uniforms with them: no one carrying cuffs, and mace, and guns. No one would be arrested today. No one would be dragging Elliot away.
``Mister...'' the badger spoke first, her eyes shifting between the two adult, ``...Masters?''
And Toffy offered his paw, ``I'm Kristoff.''
While they shook, the dachshund turned his eyes to Will, ``And that would make you the brother. William?''
``Yes sir.''
Politely enough, the badger asked: ``May we come in?''
``Of course,'' Toffy nodded, and he and his brother stepped aside...
...leaving the badger to thread the gap left between them, and stride directly toward Elliot. His eyes were wide, his knees were locked, and he leaned away ever so slightly as she knelt before him. ``Elliot, right?''
``Yeah...''
``Would you mind giving us a little privacy, kiddo?'' she asked in a forced and saccharine tone, but her smile never faded. ``We'll come and talk to you soon, too...but we need to speak with your dad and your uncle alone, first. Okay?''
~
``Alone?'' Scott Hammond did his best to subdue his instinctual gulp as he watched Principal Rivers leave the room. But he turned to face the table -- and the two detectives across -- with a smile and a joke, hopefully to relieve the tension for them all: ``Well, that doesn't sound any good. Should I be calling a lawyer?''
The visibly more elderly of the detectives, a thin, gentle, and graying squirrel, smiled comfortingly, ``Don't worry, Mr. Hammond. You're not in any trouble.'' He motioned a paw across the table, silently gesturing for Scott to sit, ``This is just a sensitive matter, and it'd better if what we have to say, stays here between the three of us.''
``If you say so,'' the fox sat, as directed. ``But just remember: I asked for representation and you said no. That means now I can talk about my huge marijuana farm all I want, and you can't use it against me.''
The squirrel's soft smile broke in a breathy chuckle, ``Even if that wasn't a joke, that's not our department.''
``Well what IS your department, then?'' Scott asked...
...but instead of an answer, he was met with an irritated huff: ``Is Elliot Masters one o' your students?'' This, though, didn't come from the squirrel. It came from his partner: the younger and clearly less patient gorilla to the older detective's side.
``Ah,'' Scott just nodded with a knowing smile, ``So, this is about Elliot, then.''
``It is.'' The gorilla narrowed his eyes, ``Why? Know somethin'?''
``I do!'' Scott crossed his arms, his smug attitude returning in line with his comfort. ``In fact, I know exactly why you're here.''
``Do you?'' the squirrel asked.
``Of course!'' Scott leaned back with a smirk, ``I mean: let me ask you a question. Why are you talking to me? That is: me specifically? Elliot has plenty of teachers. So what makes me so special?''
The squirrel rested his chin on his fist, ``We were told that you two were close, that you know him pretty well, and that he might come to you with...problems.''
``Right. Yet you think he WOULDN'T come to me after his mother made this kind of ridiculous accusation?'' Not that he HAD, of course, but...
``Ridiculous? So, you don't believe it then.''
``Of course not!''
``How can you be so sure?''
``Because Elliot told me, for one!'' In complete honesty, he hadn't. Elliot had only learned about this on Saturday, and Scott hadn't so much as laid an eye on him since Friday. He only heard what he DID know secondpaw -- or was it thirdpaw -- from James, who'd learned it from Hunter. But there was no reason to bring James and Hunter's names into this, at all, if he didn't have to.
``Maybe he just doesn't want to admit the truth,'' the squirrel countered...
...and the gorilla spoke up again, to add: ``Not a lot of boys his age wanna' own up to somethin' like that.''
``No. But if he hadn't said anything to me to begin with,'' albeit to Hunter, ``I would've never even heard about it...or had any reason to wonder. So why come to me and bring it to my attention, just to tell me that it never happened?''
The squirrel considered that for a moment. ``Well, maybe he wanted to reach out to someone. Maybe he was looking for help, but got scared at the last minute.''
``I don't know,'' Scott laughed that off. ``It sounded, to me, a lot more like he was just griping about his mom.''
``And what makes you such an expert?'' the gorilla asked, clearly more confrontational than his older partner.
``Hey. I'm not saying I know more about this sort of thing than the two of you. But I do work with kids his age...like, daily.'' Scott shrugged proudly, ``I can read them pretty well.''
``That's good to know,'' the squirrel smiled. ``Then maybe you can answer a few questions...''
``I'll answer anything you want. But I'm telling you: you've got the wrong idea, here.'' Scott tapped a finger on the table to emphasize: ``I've taken some training for this -- for how to spot kids who might be victims of that sort of thing -- and-''
``Training? Really?'' the squirrel seemed intrigued...
``Yes sir.''
...and the gorilla delved deeper: ``And there's nothin'? No warnin' signs? Nothin' stands out?''
``Warning signs? There's a laundry list of `warning signs', but I've never seen him display any of them. His hygiene is impeccable. And he seems to eat just fine. I mean, I've seen him at lunch. He doesn't avoid eating, or eat too much...and he's certainly not too skinny, or even a little bit fat.'' Scott laughed aloud, ``And he definitely doesn't have a fear of intimacy!''
``What about self destructive behavior?'' the squirrel added, clearly familiar with the signs as well. ``Drugs? Ever heard of him running away from home?''
But Scott just shook his head, ``Not that I know of. I mean, I can't say for certain, since I only see him at school, but he doesn't strike me as a drug user...and I've never gotten the feeling that he hurts himself, or is in any danger of committing suicide.'' He paused as he realized, before mentioning aloud: ``And if he ran away from home...there's a damn good chance he'd show up at my door. And, since he hasn't...''
``What about just...general depression?''
``Well, yeah. The kid is definitely depressed,'' Scott admitted. ``But why shouldn't he be? His parents are getting divorced! And plus, these accusations against his dad? I mean: he LOVES his dad! How else should he react?''
``The, uhm...'' the squirrel snapped his fingers to remember, ``the comment you made a minute ago, about him not having a fear of intimacy?''
``Yeah?''
``Is that to say that he's particularly promiscuous?''
``Well, I mean...he's a teenager,'' Scott answered with a mockingly risen brow. ``They're all basically just a bundle of hormones, right? And he's not a bad looking kid, either. So I'd actually be more surprised if I found out that he HADN'T done something, by now.''
Of course, Scott knew exactly what Elliot had done. He'd caught him in the act, even. But the detectives didn't need to know that, either. He had no particular interest in giving them any amount of ammunition against the boy's father.
And besides: they asked if he was promiscuous! And no. He wouldn't describe Elliot as promiscuous, at all. As far as he knew, the boy had only ever been with one guy...or a staggering total of two, if these accusations were true. And doesn't someone need a longer list than that before they could be called `promiscuous'?
But then again...this was becoming a game of semantics, now, wasn't it? And one that he knew, very well, that he was playing.
Because, they weren't really asking if the pup had had an unusual number of partners. They were asking if he was uncommonly interested in sex, for his age, at all. And that, of course, was true. Not only had Scott found the boy getting his dick sucked in a parking lot, but Elliot and Hunter had admitted to doing much the same thing in both the locker rooms AND a rest room right here at school. And to add to that: how he watched from the window of his own home, as the two tried to rope Jeffery into a threesome?
Elliot might not have been self destructive, or had a drug problem, an eating disorder, or bad hygiene...but this was one warning sign that he certainly displayed. And in flashing neon, in fact...
Yet still, Scott lied: ``But promiscuous? That's another matter entirely.''
The gorilla, joined back in, at last, ``Well then, what DID ya' mean by him `definitely' not havin' a fear of intimacy?''
And this.
This was why he lied. This was why he pretended Elliot had spoken to him, when he hadn't. Why he completely hid the truth about just how much he knew of the boy's sex life. And why he so vehemently defended his father -- someone he'd never met -- against such accusations.
It was because he believed them!
See? Scott had a theory.
The detectives were asking for signs of abuse...for signs that Elliot had been raped and scarred emotionally. And amongst the myriad of other signs of such abuse -- dangerous, and self destructive signs -- should be a crippling fear of intimacy. A fear of letting anyone else close enough to hurt them again. And, of course, this was definitely nothing Elliot suffered from...
...but what if it wasn't rape? What if the `victim' wasn't scarred? What if it was something they'd enjoyed?
Wouldn't it stand to reason they would react exactly the opposite? Might they not reach out for companionship of the very same kind? Reach out to other males -- especially older -- looking for the same kind of connection they'd enjoyed from their...`abuse'?
A child who was hurt would naturally withdraw. But a child who liked it?
After all, he'd seen it firstpaw with Jeffery. He'd seen his kitten scared and withdrawn after what happened with Tony. But just the same, he'd seen him grow to love the relationship he shared with his master, his boyfriend, and his adopted father. He'd watched him happily accept James into their life. He'd caught him fast asleep with his head in the raccoon's lap. And he'd been witness to his steadily growing obsession -- both as sexual prospects and as friends -- with Hunter and his husky.
And was Elliot so different? He shared a relationship and a love with his father -- with or without these accusations -- which most boys his age could only dream of. He'd formed bonds, from what Scott had heard, with his uncle, his uncle's boyfriend, and even with Hunter's surrogate father, Stan. And, of course, Scott couldn't forget his own longstanding role as mentor and confidant, either...
And this was why he lied.
After all, if his theory -- and by extension Elliot's mother's accusations -- were true, then where was the crime? Elliot would've been a happily willing participant...or at least as willing as Jeffery. And Scott had no interest in standing in the way of something like that. No interest in punishing the boy's father for something he, himself, had been doing for months.
But he, at least, had to explain his little quip...
``I just meant that he's a...'' he paused to search for the best word, but could only manage to settle upon, ``...loving kid. I mean, he's only close with so many people, but the ones he IS close to, he's VERY close to...myself included. He's open, and honest, and I've never seen him shy away from physical contact. Hell, he often initiates it.''
The squirrel leaned in on his elbows, ``But that physical contact is never inappropriate, or overly sexual?''
``Not at all.''
The elder detective verified: ``And you say he's open with you? How much, if anything, HAS he confided in you, in regards to his sex life? Relationships? Uhm...preferences?''
Scott could tell the squirrel was trying to skirt around the issue of saying it outright, but HE wasn't afraid to mention it, at all, ``Are you're asking if I knew he was gay?'' Thanks to the circumstances of the Masters' divorce and everything else surrounding it, these detectives definitely knew. In this room, at least, it was no secret. ``Yeah, I knew about that. But being gay isn't any proof that he's been molested. I mean...I was never molested.''
On cue, the gorilla's eyes widened, and his posture shifted. And the fox simply restrained a guilty smile. He was still such a kid at heart...and he loved getting those sorts of reactions...
While the gorilla sat in silence, though, the squirrel assured the teacher: ``Oh, I know that, Mr. Hammond. I wasn't implying that it was evidence of anything,'' and went on to explain: ``I was just wondering if you knew anything about his friends. Or more importantly...boyfriends?''
~
``That's something you'll have to ask Elliot, yourself.''
Kristoff Masters stood fast and defiant, sitting and staring across the kitchen table at the unwelcomed detectives in his and his brother's home. Billy was to his left, Elliot was in his room, and this conversation could have certainly gotten off on a better foot...
``Is there a reason you're refusing to answer?'' the badger asked, with what seemed to be genuine curiosity in her voice...
...but the dachshund -- much as he had ever since they sat down -- met the refusal with nothing suspicion. ``It's a simple enough question, Mr. Masters.''
``But it's not mine to answer,'' Kris argued. ``I don't think that Elliot would want you talking to his friends about this...but if he does, that's up to him. And as for boyfriends? I can't say that I know whether he has one or not.''
``You don't know?'' the dachshund asked: incredulous and accusatory.
``It's not that crazy a thought that a teenage boy wouldn't want to talk to his dad about every little detail of his sex life, is it?'' Kristoff laughed softly and added, ``Especially if he's gay...''
``I don't know,'' the dachshund shrugged. ``Maybe it's different when your dad's gay, too.''
And Kris knew he was being provoked, but couldn't control his urge to take the bait, ``I'm not gay.''
``Your wife tells a different story.''
``Yeah, my wife says lots of things that aren't true.'' Kristoff turned to ask Will: ``I mean: isn't that the whole reason we're here?''
``So you're saying that you've never slept with another male?'' the badger asked in calm clarification.
``Oh no. I have,'' Kris confessed. ``And I will again.''
``But you're not gay?'' the dachshund's voice still carried the same, mocking, sarcastic tone...
...so Kristoff met it with much the same: ``Shouldn't sex cops know how to define bisexuality?''
``What about you, William?'' the badger spoke up again, clearly trying to disarm a volatile situation. ``Could you answer the question?''
But Billy just shook his head, ``I'm not telling you anything he won't.''
``So you don't know if Elliot has a boyfriend, either?'' she asked again.
``Eh,'' Billy shrugged. ``He might have talked to me about his sex life, a little bit. But like his dad said: it's not my place to tell you. Ask Elliot.''
``Fine, then!'' The dachshund snapped and pointed at Kris, ``Let's talk about you, instead.''
``I'm an open book,'' he took a breath to prepare himself...
...and the little black dog laid right into him: ``Have you ever exposed yourself to your son?''
``Not intentionally.''
``But he HAS seen you nude, then?''
``Of course he has!'' Kristoff threw up his paws in frustration at the question. ``I'm his father.''
``You say that like it's normal,'' the dachshund growled.
``Isn't it? We're not exactly nudists, but he's lived with me all of his life. For over fourteen years now, we've shared the same house.'' Kris leaned in and squinted, ``I mean: I can't be prosecuted for leaving doors unlocked, can I?''
``Depends on how often. Depends on your intentions.'' The dachshund leaned in just the same, ``Maybe you WANTED him to walk in on you.''
``Oh, you have got to be kidding me!''
``What about pornographic material?'' the little dog moved right along. ``Have you exposed him to that, too?''
Kristoff just rolled his eyes, ``I think he's perfectly capable of exposing HIMSELF to porn.''
``And you don't have a problem with that?''
``Why would I?''
``Why?'' the dachshund finally raised his voice to a shout. ``Because he's only fourteen-years-old!''
Quickly, the badger spoke up again, to calm the situation. And despite the heightened emotions, Kristoff actually felt sorry for her...as he only just now realized that this kind of passive mediation must take up a large portion of her job, thanks to her partner.
``You don't have any parental controls on your internet or television?''
``Of course not,'' Kris admitted bluntly. And then he turned his eyes back to the dachshund, knowing that his next point would relate best to a male, even if it WAS such a confrontational one, ``You can't tell me that you had never seen a dirty magazine by the time you were fourteen. Fuck, I'd seen them in my single digits.'' He pointed his thumb toward the living room and their television, ``I mean: I'm not gonna' sit and watch porn with the boy...but if he wants to see it in the privacy of his own room, I'm not gonna' stop him, either.''
``So you WANT your son exposed to that?'' the dachshund recoiled, stunned by the idea...
``Of course I do!''
...but the badger met it with curiosity, ``What do you mean, Mr. Masters?''
``I mean that it's part of being a healthy teenage boy.'' Kristoff smirked, ``He's still going through puberty. Every bit of his body is screaming for him to have sex! So what, in God's name, is wrong with him being able to...relieve that tension, a little bit?''
The dachshund, though, clearly couldn't be convinced, ``I've never met a normal father who would be okay with the idea of his fourteen-year-old son having unfettered access to that much pornographic material.''
``Well I'm sorry that I'm not as cripplingly repressed as a `normal' father, then.''
``Have you talked to your son about this?'' the badger asked. ``Does he know that he has this kind of access?''
``I have, and he does.''
``And have you given him any guidelines, any warnings, anything?''
``Of course I have. I've told him not to spend my money on it, and then taught him how to not get any viruses on his computer!'' Before the detectives could react negatively to his little joke, though, Kris explained more seriously: ``...and I've also told him to be careful that he wasn't ever looking at anything underage. And that if he meets anyone online -- no matter how old they SAY they are -- he can never meet them in person, unless they're willing to meet ME first.''
``Good advice,'' the badger smiled. ``So what other advice have you given him? What have you taught him about sex, in general? What rules have you laid out?''
``Oh God, plenty! I warned him about pregnancy when I still thought that was an issue. And I taught him how to be safe...'' Kristoff paused when it dawned on him that this was something he needed to explain. No matter her other accusations, Robyn would certainly blow the circumstances of their divorce, and Elliot's freedoms with Hunter, out of proportion. So he needed to state his case as soon as possible, ``...which includes doing it in a safe environment. I had explored quite a bit by the time I was his age -- with both genders, if you really must know -- and I'd be stupid if I didn't expect him to do the same. And if he's going to do it, I'd rather it be here, than in some dirty bathroom, or somewhere where he might end up getting caught and driven home by the cops.''
Of course, the dachshund wasn't done with his accusations: ``And that's all? Really? Nothing more you want to mention? Never gave him any demonstrations? Paws-on instruction? Showed him how to...do anything?''
``God no! But I'm starting to think that YOU want to!'' Kris snapped. ``Seriously. How fucked up has this job made you, that that's where your mind goes?''
Yet again, the badger stepped in to diffuse: ``How exactly do you feel about your son being gay, overall, Mr. Masters?''
But Kristoff was far past the point of being reasonable, after her partner's last remark. ``I think it's fuckin' glorious! Will and I have been looking forward to him joining the cabal for years!''
``Mr. Masters...'' she tried to calm him...
..but he went right on, ``No really! I sewed the ceremonial robes, myself! And Billy here handled the initiation.''
``He recited his vows quite articulately,'' his brother added. ``He WAS a little squeamish when it came to the sacrifice, though...''
And finally, the badger became annoyed, ``Why are the two of you being so defensive? Don't you think it's in your best interest to cooperate?''
``Well, how do you expect us to react?'' Kris crossed his arms in defiance. ``You're accusing me of raping my son!''
``We're just investigating a case, sir. We're not accusing you.''
``Well...maybe YOU aren't,'' he agreed with the badger, but turned his eyes on her partner to make his point.
And the dachshund looked right back, dead in his eye. ``Where there's smoke, there's fire, Mr. Masters.''
Kristoff threw his paws up once again, ``But what smoke? What smoke could you possibly be talking about? So far I haven't seen or heard of even ONE shred of evidence, other than my wife's wild accusations!'' He pointed at the littler dog, ``So unless you're talking about the smoke that she and her lawyers are blowing up your-''
``Mr. Masters, please clam down,'' the badger implored.
``Well then answer my question! What evidence do you have?''
But she just shook her head, ``We're under no obligation to divulge that sort of information, at this time. This is an ongoing...''
~
``...investigation, involving a minor. And we'd appreciate it, if-''
``I know, I know,'' Mr. Hammond cut the elderly squirrel short. ``Don't worry. I won't say anything to anyone. And if you need anything else...''
``We know where ya' work,'' the gorilla at their side added as he offered the teacher his paw...
...and from some distance -- in a chair by the office, and only JUST close enough to make out the final few words of their conversation -- a white folf looked on in silence. He watched as the two well dressed strangers took their turns shaking his teacher's paw. He heard their goodbyes...excessively long, and overly polite goodbyes for his taste. And he watched them leave.
But who were those men? Did this have something to do with him? He heard the word `investigation'; were they the police!? Was this about the pictures on his phone? He knew he was in trouble, but was it THAT bad?? All he did was get a text from a new friend...
And now Mr. Hammond was walking over! Oh, this wasn't good. This wasn't good...
The fox's head, though, was tilted...his eyes didn't show any particular malice...and in moments, he was leaning down to look the boy in the eye.
``Well, hello again,'' he greeted the folf with a smile. ``What are you doing by the office?''
The boy answered his best, but he could barely restrain his nervous tremoring, and he could hear his accent seeping through far thicker than it would, if he were calm. ``I shaw you go in. I tought you werre...'' he stumbled over his next word, ``...rreporrting me to de prrinshipal. I-I was waiting to be called in.''
Mr. Hammond just laughed, but the folf had no clue why...
...and he gulped as he continued: ``Dose werre de...polishe? Werre dey herre forr me?''
``You're cute.''
The boy could feel his cheeks begin to burn, immediately, and he was certain that his teacher could see his blush through his snow white fur. Cute? Why would he call him cute? But before he could really dwell on the intense awkwardness of the compliment, his teacher beckoned him to stand and -- when he did -- to walk with him away from the office.
He did as he was asked, without question or hesitation, and soon found the elder fox's arm draped around his shoulders. And his already burning cheeks felt, then, as if they might burst into flame!
``I wasn't talking to the principal about you,'' Mr. Hammond explained.
That was good news, to say the least. ``You werren't?''
``No,'' the teacher shook his head with a smile. ``You're a good kid. You've never been in any trouble that I know of. And there's no reason to change that today. Besides,'' he added, ``you're an exchange student...and this would have been a pretty big deal. It could have ended up with suspension...expulsion...maybe even legal repercussions! Hell, for all I know, they might've even sent you back home. I don't really know what the rules are with this.''
By the time his teacher paused, the folf's eyes had grown so wide, they hurt. Expulsion? Deportation? All he did was get a text!
But Mr. Hammond repeated, ``And I won't be responsible for doing that to you.''
``Kiitos...'' the boy murmured his gratitude, in his native tongue...
...and finally, the fox lets him go. ``Here,'' he handed the back back with a smile.
And the folf happily took it.
``Now, get those pictures off of there, as quickly as you can!'' his teacher advised. ``If you uhm...like them, and you don't want to lose them, then get them on your computer, first. But DON'T keep them on your phone.'' He leaned down to look the boy in the eye, ``And, while you're at it, do NOT pass them on to anyone else, okay?''
``Kyllae ope,'' the folf nodded quickly, wondering if it was impolite that he had, twice now, fallen back into his own language without thinking...
...but Mr. Hammond just patted him on the back, and pushed him off, ``Go on, now!''
The boy put up no argument and quickly strode away, elated that he'd been so lucky to be caught by such a friendly teacher. And, for that matter, blessing his luck in general! This wasn't the first time his nationality had kept him out of trouble, after all. It wasn't the first time that being an exchange student had saved him!
On his first day here, he'd been sent to the office because of the bits of his fur he'd dyed neon green. But he'd arrived green! And in his country, they never put up a fuss over anything like that. In fact, they barely had any dress code, at all, especially in comparison to what it was like here! And since the principal -- a polar bear -- understood perfectly well how hard it would be to bleach so much green out of white fur...the folf met with no punishment at all.
In a way, he actually felt bad for his classmates. They couldn't lean on that sort of excuse!
And, speaking of his classmates...was that...? Was that who he thought it was?
Across the cafeteria -- where the boy's trek had taken him -- he saw a hyena trying desperately to get the attention of a wolf...a wolf who, it seemed, was simply walking away without a word. But was that the hyena from the pictures? It was! It had to be!
Quickly, he lifted his phone. It was best if he checked to make sure, after all.
But before he could, the black hunk of plastic in his paw began to vibrate...
~
...so violently that it rumbled its way completely off the edge of Elliot Masters' desk.
He reached for and caught it, though, before it could hit the floor, and even before the familiar notification tone for his text messaging had trailed off.
An MMS?
Who was it from? Had his father or Will snuck him a message while they spoke to the detectives in the other room? Or was it Hunter? Maybe he'd finally forgiven him for being busy with the lawyers the day before!
Oh, God he hoped so. He'd barely spoken to him since Saturday.
Surely it was him! He had to understand, by now, why Elliot had been so busy, right? It wasn't his fault. And he could really use an update on his tiger, right about now. Anything to get his mind off of the badger and dachshund somewhere beyond his bedroom door.
And so, he swiped to unlock his phone. But just before he could tap the MMS notification, there came a knock at his door...
...a knock, and the unmistakably female voice of the visiting badger, ``Can we come in Elliot?''
Virfolf.
