A/N: It was a fairly eventful holiday season; the usual family gatherings, the emergence of a new year, but after all that the days still pass by as they ever did. And that was quickly followed by me getting the post-Christmas cold. I'm just about over that now, and with that I'm proud to present the tenth installment of the story. Hope you enjoy!

—

He remembered the high school days with the full force of a freight train.

It was without question that Nicholas Barnes had quite possibly been the biggest asshole ever to come from the British Isles; he had the male population of Apollo High School cowering in fear, save for the others on the football and wrestling teams, the latter of which he excelled. Neither had it helped how most of the female population would fawn over his accent. Andrew himself had been bullied by Nick on a regular basis before falling in with Sophie, after she had helped him out of his locker one memorable Monday.

If it hadn't been for Chuck gaining some backbone their early junior year, Nick's reign of terror would have continued. Chuck tried out for the wrestling team, and before anyone could count to three he was pretty much unbeatable. Naturally they didn't compete within their own school, but Nick, having grown increasingly jealous of the attention granted toward Chuck, was failing in his performances. His jealousy had reached the boiling point in the winter of '94 when he, without any provocation, pounced on Chuck in the middle of a inter-school match and started wailing on him. Chuck had fought back immediately, and escaped with only a black eye. It had taken the collective of both high school teams to pull them apart.

The terror expanded instead of ending. Because of that first fight that broke out, Nick's application for a wrestling scholarship was denied. As a result, fights in the school hallways between them became regular occurrences, sometimes with Sophie and Andrew feeling the brunt of the attacks. Two suspensions and a warning of expulsion later, Nick began to swirl the drain. Andrew had learned of a few robbery attempts at nearby convenience stores, and of the break in at Chuck's house, before Nick dropped off the radar altogether. No one in town had known what had happened with him.

Until now.

If anything could break through the exuberance Andrew felt the past few days, it was this. He stood remarkably still, reflecting an outward calm, but the fedora made his head feel excruciatingly hot. He didn't dare move any of his muscles as the gun Nick is holding centered on his chest.

"I remember now," he replied. The way he spoke was soft, and with such a menacing tone that Andrew was fluctuating between hot and cold. He held back a shiver. "You were a part of that idiot panda's group."

Andrew stayed silent, wings raised to the ceiling. Better that than the alternative of letting Nick goad him into doing something stupid: a secure way to dictate the terms of this severe encounter. It also put him in the position of negotiator. He inwardly scrolled the case files of past bank robberies he had read about in his law courses, hoping to find something to help him out, but his eyes didn't move from the sight of the snow leopard.

Proximity was fast becoming an issue as Nick came around the counter. "Ha ha ha. I must say, it was very kind of fate to put you in my path. I waited years to climb my way up the ladder again, working, toiling, to scrape off the muck of my humiliation at the hands of that bastard. Now that you're here, I can have my grand comeback."

"To a place that was glad to see you leave? You can forget it. I'm not helping you."

"HA!" Before Andrew knew it, he was on the ground. The second time in as little as four days. Blood was flowing down his temple in a steady rivulet; Nick had struck him with the butt of the gun. Andrew touched the point of impact and winced, then looked up. The blow made him a little dizzy, but between the blurry lights of the diner he could see Nick standing above him. The snow leopard's gaze was dead, empty. It turned out one could quite easily be afraid of such a stare when there was a gun pointed at your head. "I've killed people for a lot less than your words, you pathetic chicken. You'll help me get back," he cocked the trigger, "or you'll die right where you sit. It's your choice."

Andrew nodded. He felt that he was forgetting something, but couldn't for the life of him remember what it was. "Come on."

—

So this was what it felt like when your life was reduced to an hourglass frame. You kept your footing through uneven snow, all while a sociopath you had once known played the role of the timekeeper in such a deadly fashion.

The car had been left behind at the diner as Andrew was made to walk down a steep hill, the stub of the gun pressed firmly against his back. The one time he tried to fly away, Nick had moved faster than Andrew was able to blink and twisting Andrew's wing in his paw. "Nice try," he said, releasing and prompting him forward with the gun. "Keep going."

Nick, between the glances Andrew was able to make behind himself, kept looking around like he was afraid someone or something would pop out from some hidden door in the ground. Just what had the years done to Nick for him to fall from grace like that? Andrew didn't know, and at this point didn't really care. He could only think of Rachel.

It figured that something would have to go monumentally wrong concerning the two of them, but it had never entered Andrew's mind to figure it would be him that left first.

He could see her in the hotel room, pacing the floor, growing more and more agitated as he didn't show, didn't even call. He felt his heart break a little. With any luck, however, she'd head to the diner and find out what happened. If she did, he hoped she'd find him in time.

There seemed to be enough of that as it were, he quickly realized: Nick had no practical sense of direction. Every now and then, it had to have been an hour since they exited the diner, Nick would pull out an tattered map from his coat pocket and peruse it a bit before saying, "This way." It happened frequently: the pause, the reading, the glance around the area and, finally, the restart which in Andrew's mind was becoming meaningless. There was absolutely nothing to go on to indicate where they were heading. The only thing in view was a seemingly endless clearing blanketed in snow on the outskirts of the town. Due to the hit he had taken on his head, Andrew's navigational skills were equally skewed. The clouds overhead didn't help as they hid the stars Andrew might have used for finding their way. The snow was beginning to fall again after the tenth time Nick had stopped to read the map, and Andrew was shivering uncontrollably now. He wrapped his wings as tightly as he could around himself as the chill went straight to his marrow. He didn't need Nick to shoot him, after all; he would freeze to death.

They stopped at the halfway mark of the clearing, which proved to Andrew just how reckless the snow leopard could be. There wasn't any wood to build a fire with; that remained another two hundred yards away, and Nick did not show any inclination to go further. He just sat opposite Andrew as before, with the gun aimed high and that unblinking yellow stare.

"It was supposed to be me to lavish attention on."

Andrew said nothing in reply.

"The day that panda stole the crowd from me felt like the biggest punch I'd taken. How dare he? It was supposed to be me!" the snow leopard continued in a harsh whisper.

Still, Andrew remained silent. Under no circumstances was he going to add fuel to Nick's apparently unstable rage. From the tone of his voice, he had been living with it for years already. The bird shivered again, wrapping his wings tighter around himself. This was bad karma from the start. It was not like he wanted circumstances to occur in this way, but whichever direction you swung it, they still ended up in the same disastrous fashion. Fate, or God, or whatever you called it, would continually set him up for disappointment.

The rising anger from that thought was hard to quell. He was surprised to find he didn't want to stop it. Let me be angry. Let it rise; it was better than fear. Think of Rachel. Let it drive me.

His heart felt heavy with the strain of holding the anger inside. He had just met the woman he loved, and he wasn't going to abandon her to this lunatic. His feet were numb, but that didn't stop him; he got to his feet.

"Get down, you stupid bird. We're not going anywhere until I say." The gun clicked as Nick pressed the trigger down.

The crane looked back coldly. "You're not, but I am. Enjoy your vacation in Hell, Nick." Nothing more needed to be said.

Andrew leapt.

—

The shot went wild.

Andrew's wing had impacted in a crescent swing against Nick's face as he fired, causing the gun to go off and fly into the snow drift.

This was beyond the most crazy thing Andrew had ever done; he knew he wasn't a fighter. He only reacted on pure instinct as he quickly followed the wing thrust with a kick into Nick's stomach. It was hardly the right setting for any kind of physical activity, let alone a spontaneous brawl. Andrew was so numb with the chill of the air that he couldn't even feel the blows he was inflicting upon the snow leopard. He wasn't able to make a fist because of his wings but whatever he was doing was working somehow. After Nick landed a lucky punch to his face, Andrew returned the blow with one of his own: a powerful thrust of his upper left wing that left Nick dizzy and splayed on the ground like an angel violently cast to the earth.

The erratic dance Andrew had performed took a lot of the wind out of him, but he couldn't stop yet. It was time for either continuing the fight or settle it with making a hasty getaway. Nick was a bit slow getting back up on his feet. Andrew took the advantage of the fact by quickly spreading his wings out and lashed them forward, sending a large gust of wind into the leopard's face. There was something to be said for subtlety in this situation. Too bad for Andrew that Nick found the reason simple to ignore. He charged Andrew on all fours, the icy blast not deterring him in the slightest.

Andrew's one and only option was up.

He readied his wings as Nick sprinted forward, looking for all the world like a raging demon from hell. Or even, god forbid he should ever admit to anyone that he watched it, "Buffy The Vampire Slayer."

Fucking hell, he even ran like one!

Five feet…four feet…

Nick's eyes shone with an insane shade of molten gold, and Andrew swore he saw hellfire in those manic orbs. There was something else, too, in the distance. Fireflies in winter? No, the casts of the fluorescents were too big.

It hit him then. Flashlights! Someone was looking for him. Or them. No doubt drawn close by the sound of the gunshot.

Focus. Two feet…one…make your move, pencil neck!

Andrew flew within a hair's breadth of Nick colliding with him. The snow leopard made confused "Huh" sound which quickly reformed itself into a painful scream as Andrew's talons cut into his lower back. The cuts were shallow, of course, but Andrew imagined, with that much dried skin under the fur, that the cuts had to feel on fire. Still keeping himself aloft, Andrew turned his head.

The march of flashlights made its way down the hill, growing ever more rapid as the sound of Nick's howls fell into the parade's earshot. The oncoming footsteps of many people crunching through the snow was matching Andrew's haggard breathing almost harmoniously. Andrew set himself down, carefully. If nothing else could be said about the fight, his torso and ribs remained undamaged. His head was throbbing with the hits he had taken, but at least he was able to see clearly.

Nick, for all his insane bluster, started to whimper as a voice made itself known, "Goddamn, we got two live ones!"

"Argument?" a second voice asked.

"Don't look that way t' me," the first voice replied. "Self-deefense, Am guessin'." The voice raised its light into Andrew's face. Andrew winced and held up his wing to deflect it. "What's yer name, boy?"

"Andrew Blair."

"That yer car in front o' the diner?"

"Well…" he faltered.

"Oh, it's his, all right," another voice interrupted, then said jokingly. "I should know, I've been a passenger in it since Central Standard Time."

"We're still in Central Standard Time," the second voice countered.

"Oh," the new voice paused, then said, somewhat irately, "Well, who cares if I've got the time zones confused! I've been on assignment in Greece for the past eight months!"

Andrew chuckled. "It's good to see you, too, Rachel." She clutched him tightly to her before he realized it. "Rachel, do you think you could let go of me now? You're going to break my spine," he hoarsely pleaded.

"Not a chance," she said. "Any time I let you out of my sight, you're either getting beat up or kidnapped." The clouded leopard looked up at him, taking in his injuries. Thankfully, there were few. "Or both, in this case."

Andrew rolled his eyes, even as his wings returned the hug Rachel had graced him with. "Once again, it's good to see you."

"Hey," the first speaker cut in. Andrew turned to glance at him. It was none other than the golden retriever from the diner. His left arm was now wrapped in a sling. "Now tha' the happy r'unions outta tha way, will ya come wi' us to th' station? Gotta few questions for ya."

"Of course," the two of them replied. The retriever started walking toward the hill without seeing if they were following him. The deputy, a Quarab horse, followed behind, escorting Nick, who was now bound in handcuffs. The leopard looked utterly dejected and weary with his eyes downcast, seemingly worse for wear as Andrew's attention focused on a few small drops of blood escaping the hem of his jacket. He was surprised that he didn't feel an ounce of pity for the leopard. He looked at Rachel, who looked back.

"I'm glad you're all right," she said.

He smiled weakly. "No more so than I am, I'm sure." Taking one last look across the snow covered field, he said, "Let's get out of here ASAP. I've had enough of Nebraska."

She didn't respond except to wrap her arms around him as they walked after the convoy.