This chapter takes place in an AU where RJ never stole Vincent's food, but still has to fulfill 'runs' for the bear in exchange for protection. When Vincent bumps up the quota for next spring in the last minute, though, RJ decides to acquire some helpers.

It turns out as well you'd expect.

Disclaimer: let's all be serious. How could any of these characters possibly belong to a lazy head like me?


RJ winced as his...'acquaintance' helped him ease down onto the grass, the tall tree offering support for his aching back.

"That was a rather awful spill back there," Ozzie commented as he backed up to give the raccoon healing space, "will you be alright until I get back?"

A faint laugh burst from RJ's lips, a slight mistake on account of the resultant ache in his side. Nothing excruciating but enough of a warning to make him rethink about jostling the injury. Regardless he managed a sly upward smirk at the older mammal.

"What? Tired of me already?"

Out of all the reactions RJ anticipated, none of them included the soft warm huff that smoothly transitioned into a bouncy jovial chuckle. Or the way those crossed ivory-furred arms bunched against that fluffy chest as though to contain the possum's laughter.

RJ struggled to ignore the heat in his cheeks.

"You'll have to try harder than that, I'm afraid," Ozzie replied once his mirth settled down, shoulders shrugging in faux apology. He heartily patted his fellow animal's shoulder with assurance that he'll return soon before walking off in the log's direction.

Leaving RJ with only the nocturnal silence and his own thoughts for company, thoughts that started to drift back to the lifestyle that landed him here in the first place.

Now listen up, squirt. You've been hearing 'bout a new human place cropping up nearby, right?

Is this about the food? Cuz last time I checked, your stash looked pretty stacked already.

Faster than a whip as usual. Ya see I've been hearin' rumors 'bout how this here's winter might get rougher than usual, so I've decided to bump up the rations.

You gotta be kidding me. It's the last week before winter, man!

Guess you gonna hafta pick up the pace then, RJ. Shouldn't be a problem for you, though. You know much humans love ta splurge on their food.

Tch. As if I didn't? Will my payload at least see a corresponding bump-up, too?

Now let's not be that quick, RJ. You should know by now that I pay judging by quality of service. Just push yourself enough to put your rounds from last year ta shame.

...Right.

Oh and, uh, don't be afraid to ask for helpers if you need extra hands. Long as they get the job done on time, I won't care less about what ya do with 'em afterwards. As long as you're not dumb enough to get attached to 'em. Remember—

"Kindness gets you dead or eaten," present-day RJ found himself uttering like a mantra before pinching his eyelids to ward off the growing drowsiness. When was the last time he had a good night's sleep?

Ugh, never mind that. He had two days left to report to Vincent—the last day prior to winter—before the bear decided to hunt the raccoon down himself for answers. RJ needed to think up a way of getting all the stored food to the cave before the deadline without Ozzie and the others noticing.

Unfortunately tonight did not appear to be that night. Damn sprinkler systems.

Before the raccoon could mentally gripe any further, Ozzie emerged back-first from the bushes as he dragged a red First-Aid case with both hands towards the tree. Upon reaching RJ, he set the case directly in front of his fellow animal and opened the case to reveal fresh bandages and other curative items. Then he sat down on his knees next to RJ and gestured a hand to the supplies, much to the raccoon's surprise since he half-expected the marsupial to assert further assistance.

"If you need any help addressing your wounds, I'm right here."

RJ uttered a committal grunt before he proceeded to do as such. Normally he'd have whipped up a more suave response, a way of dodging the oncoming coddling, but weeks of dealing with the old man and his constant mothering had left the raccoon impatient whenever it was just the two of them.

Not that receiving the possum's treatment of him felt bad. RJ just couldn't wrap his mind around the genuineness in those glacial blue eyes every time they shared gazes. Or the gentleness in that whiskered smile every time RJ denied needing anything.

The old man always treated him with complete compassion, even from the get-go. Not that the foragers (besides that paranoid turtle) viewed or treated him any differently, instantly suckered by his theatrical displays and promises of food, food, and more food.

But while the others always approached RJ as though they knew he had everything in control and Verne viewed him as chaos incarnate, Ozzie...

In all fairness, RJ initially pegged the possum to be the kind of guy to make sure everyone got their needed nutrients and went to bed on time. Not an entirely wrong presumption—next to Verne, Ozzie could take the award for 'Most Likely to Faint from Concern'. Not that the compulsive playing-dead did the old man any favors either aside from inciting a good honest laugh.

At the same time, RJ had witnessed moments over the weeks that added surprising nuances to his initial perception of the possum.

"Of course if you and your pride would prefer someone else taking care of you for a change, I'll gladly oblige."

Like that.

RJ scoffed, ignoring inner embarrassment at how he'd paused so long in fixing himself up, before finally applying the gel pack to his waist and reaching his free hand towards a bandage wrap. "If this is the sort of situation where you flirt, Doc, I should get injured more often."

"Please don't," Ozzie tilted his head exasperatedly though his wry grin remained. "There are so many healthier ways to gain attention from your crush." The look of bummed-out-ness in RJ's eyes got him chuckling, his head angled teasingly. "Oh? You mean that wasn't your intention?"

Wow, this old man.

Shaking his head, the smirking raccoon bit off the bandage and tucked the end in, mindful not to touch his injury. Once he finished and stowed away the roll, he lay back against the tree trunk and angled his head back enough to see the stars.

All the while trying to fight back the encroaching dread gnawing at the back of his mind, hoping against hope not to hallucinate Vincent's sneering mug looming ahead in the cosmos. Or that dark guttural voice mocking his imagination, warning him to hurry up and depart with the necessities while the opportunity remained ripe.

Leave behind these chumps. What good will they ever do you? They'll get screwed over by life soon anyway, just like everybody else blinded into the 'joys' of family life. You don't deserve getting dragged down with the rest of them.

Eyes of aqua found themselves drifting to the older male and his closed-eyed soft smiling face, pink-tipped fingers absentmindedly tapping the fur of his lean stomach, bare tail fluctuating like ocean waves on a calm summer day.

RJ wanted to live, but...he wouldn't mind if all these guys got to live, too. They were sappy and clingy but they had loyalty in spades, knew how to brighten up a lousy day. Maybe if he played his cards right, pitched the idea to Verne just right—the raccoon scrunched his face in surrender. No way would Verne agree. And whatever he went against, chances were the others would follow as well.

Unless...

RJ dared another glance at Ozzie.

On one paw, the possum tended to come off as eccentric and absentminded. Not to mention he could be a throw pillow. Not the most inspiring qualities, at least not at first glance. On the other, the possum also had a way of garnering trust without needing pretense, and gave off a sense of calm that could set even Verne at ease. Besides weren't age and wisdom supposed to guarantee that people will listen to you?

Someone like that could help RJ earn everyone's support. Question is would he even want to help if the raccoon told him? Because if not...

RJ had no idea how long he kept staring before Ozzie's soft assuring voice broke through the reverie.

"If you'd like to ask me something, you're more than free to."

The raccoon offered a halfhearted smirk. "Even if it involved possible death?"

Ozzie missed not a single beat, eyes still closed. "Something that hovers over our heads the moment we're born?"

Touché. RJ shrugged. "Well it's nothing different from what we've already been doing. Just gotta up the workload so this guy I work for won't come crashing through the hedge two days from now."

This time the marsupial angled an open eye at RJ. "And this guy is...?"

"A bear," RJ replied in a tone too flippant for the dread hanging over his head, "A really, really big bear."

Ozzie's eyes, now in full view, hung heavy on the younger mammal. His voice remained still and calm yet had lost its earlier joviality. "Murderous?"

"More or less." The concerned stare cut RJ deep, and something in his gut curled at the sight of it as well. The raccoon reigned in a discomfited snarl; he managed to reduce it to a toothy sneer. The striped tail swatted the air between the two animals as if to form a wall. "What? Not all of us get to have a cozy little family to snuggle up to."

Not that he expected this naïve old-timer to get what he meant.

That bitter tone of voice failed to wipe away the softness in Ozzie's eyes. If anything the possum only intensified the look, face creasing from a deepening frown. Heck, even those perky ears of his pressed against the skull as though out of apology.

Crap, the man looked too innocent (not cute!) overall to stay mad at now. RJ, losing resolve against all better judgement and cool-guy instincts, shifted his eyes back to the night sky.

'Yep, I am a goner.'

His breath left as a wistful sigh. "Look. You guys have a good thing going on, with or without the food. Living out there on your own?" He gestured his head to the world outside the hedge. "It sucks. You gotta do whatever the hell keeps you fed and in one piece. That also means you can't risk getting close to people or letting them get close to you."

The raccoon scoffed drily. "Especially if you're me. Big ol' trouble magnet."

Cause that's how the story of his life went. Ever since his times as a runt scourging around for food, anybody who treated him nicely wound up either dead or captured by humans. To be fair, Vincent probably had something do with half of that, considering he practically raised the raccoon.

Well, if pushing a teenager around with insults and threats of either abandonment or starvation counted as raising someone.

A flinch went through him when a warm and calloused hand took his own, the feeling alien to a loner like him, but relaxed once the thumb started rubbing slow deep circles into his palm. Ozzie had surprisingly strong fingers for his age, RJ noticed.

The raccoon shook his head yet did not pull away from the possum's grasp, too enticed by the warmth. Nor did he recoil when Ozzie gathered him into a hug that cradled the raccoon's head against his white fluffy chest. RJ couldn't help a weak smile as he listened to the possum's steady heartbeat.

"A shame you feel that way about yourself, RJ. You're an absolute delight to have around." At the masked bandit's scoff, Ozzie chuckled in that paternal manner that should have made the raccoon want to roll his eyes. "You breathe a particular brand of vivacity into our affairs, although you should do something about that vanity of yours."

A moment of silence passed as the two critters stared at one another. To the possum's surprise, RJ suddenly nudged him away with a good-mannered guffaw. "A particular brand of vivacity? How do you dream this stuff up, possum?"

Ozzie scratched his cheek with a bashful chortle, eyes crinkling. "Blame the thespian in me." His face resumed its former seriousness. "I mean what I said though. There's more to you than the trouble that allegedly follows you."

RJ snorted at the sentiment this time, his smile still there but now more forced to hide away the feeble hope. Folks like him never deserved folks like Ozzie and the other foragers. For that reason, the raccoon kept his stare on the trees in the distance.

"Whatever you say, old man." He tried not to feel like garbage at hearing Ozzie's resigned sigh.

"All the same," the possum continued as he stood up and dusted the dirt off his torso, "we still owe you a great deal for teaching us how to survive in this new world. Like it or not, nearly all of us have taken fondly to you, so whatever you need, whatever it takes for you to feel happy and safe," he reached over and pressed a firm hand on RJ's shoulder, "say the word."

As the marsupial walked away into the dark underbrush, RJ looked to the First-Aid case. His mind tumbled over everything he'd gone through since meeting everyone.

Hammy's hugs.

Stella's jokes.

Heather's frankness.

The triplets' enthusiasm.

Lou and Penny's friendliness.

Even Verne's dorkiness.

And Ozzie laying there by the raccoon's side, eyes closed to the world in bliss and smile fit to put the most affluent king to shame...

Curling in on himself, RJ bumped his forehead against his knees with a flummoxed grimace and a barely suppressed groan.

"I am so screwed."