THEN

She was annoyed, and when she was annoyed she walked faster.

'Skye, hold up!'

She kept walking, faster and faster, until it was more of a trot, not quite a run (yet) but close enough.

'Wait!'

She stopped, closed her eyes, took a breath, and counted to five before daring to open her mouth.

'I don't have time for this, Chase.'

Chase, being twice her size, caught up to her easily, nimbly dodging a pedestrian as he came to stand a respectful distance from her.

'But we're just talking.'

'We're in public and you're making a scene.'

'I'm not- hey, where're you going? Skye!'

She turned the corner onto Fourth Street and made it to the end of the crossing before Chase appeared in front of her, blocking her path.

'What, you're not even gonna speak to me?' He asked, staring her down. There was challenge in his eyes, mixing in with the hurt and indignation. Skye wasn't having any of it.

'Get out of my way,' she said. 'I'm not one of Farmer Yumi's sheep.' It wasn't quite a growl, but it wasn't far off either. She knew he could hear it.

'Why're you being like this?' Chase said defensively. 'I just wanted to say hey 'cause I wasn't expecting to see you here in the city, and you're acting like I'm a damn stranger!'

Skye said nothing, but she didn't take her eyes off Chase's, staring straight into them, solid as steel. A universal signal among dog-kind; locking eyes gave a very clear message: I'm not backing down. But, like the laws of physics decreed, something had to give. That something was Chase. His posture deflated a fraction and he stepped aside, letting her pass. Instead of trailing after her as she carried on, he walked alongside her, taking one step for every three she took.

'C'mon, Skye. I just wanna talk.'

Skye stopped again, so suddenly that a woman carrying a week's worth of groceries almost tripped over her. The woman tsked and gave them both a dirty look as she bustled past. Skye ignored her and reeled on Chase, an old fury she'd thought buried rearing its ugly head and pouring itself into her words. 'I know exactly what you want, Chase,' she snapped. 'I know exactly what you wanna "talk" about and, honestly, I'm really not interested.'

'What are you-'

'You were gonna start off with some dumb platitude, asking me how I'm doing and what I've been up to, as if I haven't already told you a million times, then as soon as that was out of the way you were gonna launch into another tirade about Zuma or Rubble, or whatever, just like you did the last time we saw each other. I didn't wanna hear it then and I sure as hell don't wanna hear it now.'

A searing fist had clamped itself around Skye's lungs and she had to take a couple of steadying breaths, the backs of her eyes burning. People on the street were staring now. Maybe they recognised who they were, maybe not. She wasn't in the mood to care.

Chase, to his credit, actually looked slightly ashamed of himself, judging by the way his ears had flattened and he couldn't look her in the eyes anymore.

She'd been on the way back to her hotel from a meeting with her financial advisor. He was based in the city but Skye had decided that a face-to-face meeting would be better than yet another phone call, so she'd flown out. The meeting had been arduous; flight schools were ridiculously expensive to build from scratch and several of her bids for funding from contacts had led to dead ends. By the time it was over, she was mentally drained and wanted nothing more than to curl up on her bed and sleep off the headache. And maybe order room service.

The last thing she'd expected was to hear Chase's voice calling her name in the middle of the street and turning to see a great German Shepherd barrelling towards her, ears perked and tail wagging. Once upon a time, it would have been a welcome sight. A lot had happened since that time.

'I…' Chase seemed at a loss for words. 'That's not…I wasn't…'

Skye's headache was worsening by the minute and this…whatever it was wasn't helping in the slightest. 'See you later, Chase.' She said pointedly, turning to leave. Her hotel was less than ten minutes away. That room service was calling to her.

'Wait! Skye, please.' He moved to intercept her again but stopped himself, fortunately for him. 'You're right, you're totally right. I shouldn't've…unloaded all that on you last time, I…I'm sorry, okay? At least let me make it up to you.'

She looked at him, arching her brow sceptically. 'And how exactly do you plan on doing that?'

'Let me take you out somewhere. Anywhere you want, my treat. We can catch up properly. No drama this time, I promise.'

Against her better judgement, Skye considered the offer. On one paw, the last conversation she'd had with Chase had ended in a shouting match in which some pretty nasty things had been said from both parties. On the other paw, she would kill for a coffee.

She relayed this to Chase and he led her to a café nearby that supposedly catered to a large dog clientele. It was pretty small but, she had to admit, quite cosy, with powder blue walls and little vases of forget-me-nots on the tables. The air was full of the rich smell of coffee beans and sandalwood, and Skye felt her spirits lift a little. A surprising number of the staff were dogs. One of the waitresses, a friendly-looking poodle with extremely curly fur, approached their table.

'Hi!' She said in a bubbly voice. 'How are we today?'

'We're good, thanks,' Skye replied politely.

'Awesome! Just so you know, we do offer a twenty-percent discount for couples on Fridays.'

'We're not a couple,' Skye and Chase both said in unison, maybe a little more forcefully than necessary.

The waitress blinked. 'Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume…what can I get for you?'

Ten minutes later, Skye had a dog-friendly cappuccino in front of her. The smell alone was invigorating; she'd been stuck with airport food and drink all morning and hadn't had time to get anything decent when arriving in the city.

'This place is great,' Chase said, placing his cup between his paws. 'It's quiet and out of the way. I come here sometimes to just…get away from everything, y'know?'

'It is nice,' Skye said, licking a droplet of coffee foam from her lip.

'So, I meant to ask, how's the whole piloting school thing going?'

Skye paused and considered her reply. How much was she willing to divulge about the business? It had been a long day, she was tired, and Chase had the unfortunate habit of turning conversations into interrogations. She supposed you couldn't just turn off fifteen years of police training. 'It's…going,' she said. Then she sighed. Maybe she was being a little ridiculous. This was Chase. The dog she'd grown up with. When had she become so guarded? 'I won't lie, it's been difficult,' she said, warming her paws on the cup. 'I guess I never appreciated how expensive the whole thing actually is. I've poured so much of my own money into it, but I still need funding, and trying to get that is like pulling teeth, let me tell you.'

'Damn,' Chase said as she lapped at her coffee. 'That sounds rough. Still, you'll get there. I know you will. You've never let anything stop you before, right?'

'…Right,' Skye replied and was suddenly hit with an image of another face she'd grown up with, one she'd forced from her mind completely, and with it came the stabbing sense of betrayal and unbearable guilt. It lasted less than a second and she shook her head, plastering a smile across her muzzle. 'Anyway, what about you? What have you been up to the last few months?'

'Oh, uh, not much, really,' Chase replied, apparently finding a sudden interest in the tablecloth. 'Same old, same old, a few appearances here and there, working with merch companies. It's starting to get stale, though. Guess we're not as popular as we used to be.' Something flashed in his eyes, brief and fleeting but sharp. Bitterness? 'I was thinking of joining the force but…I'm not sure.'

'The police force?'

'Yeah.'

'Oh…well, tha t would definitely suit you. You'd be a success, for sure. You should go for it if that's what you want.'

'Hm.'

A wooden silence descended between them. They both drank some more, then gazed off in different directions, pretending to look at something that wasn't there. It became so awkward that Skye considered saying something, but Chase beat her to it.

'How come you don't call?' He asked quietly.

Skye looked at him. 'Huh?'

'The others…Rocky, Marshall, and Ryder that is, we still keep in touch whenever we can, but you…we never hear from you anymore. When the PAW Patrol ended, we all promised that it wouldn't be it, that we'd still talk to and see each other as much as possible. Then Zuma-' He paused. Maybe he'd seen the way she'd suddenly tensed at the mention of that name, maybe he simply couldn't bear to get into it again. 'Anyway, even before that happened, you were drifting away. We all saw it. I know you had your plans, and I'm not suggesting for a second that you shouldn't follow them, not at all. I think it's amazing what you're doing, we all do, seriously. But…I don't know, it just feels like…like you're done with us or something.'

Skye stared at him. Chase stared at her. There wasn't any challenge or confrontation in his eyes or body language now. Instead, there was something she didn't remember ever seeing in him before: Imploring. Her heartrate had increased again and her body temperature was rising dangerously. She was overcome with the desire to leave, the run out the door and find the deepest, darkest corner of the city to hide in. It hammered against her skull and sapped the moisture from her mouth. But she didn't move. She refused to. If Chase really wanted to do this here, then so be it.

'What do you want from me, Chase?' She asked, leaning forwards in her seat. 'You want me to sit here and lament about how terrible everything's become, about how if only we could go back and relive the glory days, about how it's all Zuma's fault or Rubble's fault or the media's fault, like you do?'

The pair of French bulldogs at the table next to theirs turned to stare at them and Skye realised she'd been raising her voice. She glared at them until they looked away, but relaxed her posture. Or tried to, at least.

'That's not what I'm doing,' Chase said defensively.

'Yes. Yes, it is, Chase,' she snapped. 'God, I knew this would happen! Just like our last conversation! You just can't let it go, can you?'

'Let what go?'

'The fact that's over! It is over, Chase! The PAW Patrol, the good ol' days you desperately cling to, they're gone. Can't you see that?'

'Of course, I can!' Chase snapped back, leaning forwards himself. To anyone else, it would've been an imposing sight.

'Can you? 'Cause it sure doesn't seem like it.' Chase opened his mouth to retort but she wasn't done. The train had left the station and someone had already ripped out the brakes. 'You wanna know how I really feel, Chase? Then listen. The reason I haven't called or met up with the others is that I am busy. I'm trying to build a life. Do you hear me? I'm not "done with you", I just don't have the time or energy to deal with your outbursts, or the kicked puppy look in Marshall's eyes, or any of it. I'm looking to the future, something you desperately need to think about. That's it. There's no deeper reason. So, by all means, sit there and call me heartless and uncaring, but that's not true. I'm just choosing not to wallow in self-pity.'

Liar, said a familiar little voice in the back of her head suddenly. Liar, liar, fur on fire.

Skye found she didn't care about the many faces staring at her, or how loudly she had been speaking, or the fact that she had just invertedly outed herself as a member of the PAW Patrol. Whatever comfort she'd been feeling from the café had evaporated and she felt more exhausted than ever.

She closed her eyes and took a very long, steadying breath. 'I have to go. I'm flying home first thing tomorrow. Thanks for the coffee, Chase. I'll see you around.' Before he could even think to stop her, she hopped off the chair and shoved the café door open, stepping out into the street. She broke out into a run, heading straight for her hotel, partially blinded by the tears that gathered in her eyes.

That night, Skye lay curled up on her bed and stared at the wall. She knew she should be asleep; her flight was in less than seven hours, but her brain refused to allow it. Chase's words rang through her like a bad case of tinnitus.

'It just feels like you're done with us.'

Her head wouldn't stop throbbing and she felt sick. She'd gone straight to bed, abandoning all ideas of food or room service. She wanted to leave this damn city and go home. Suddenly, her phone buzzed on the nightstand, startling her out of her thoughts. She rose, shook herself, and approached, gazing down at the screen…

…and kept staring at it. She recognised Zuma's number at first glance and found herself paralysed. The phone buzzed and buzzed and Skye didn't move. Her treacherous mind took this momentary opportunity to ambush her with a wrenching kaleidoscope of images, stolen from a vault that she'd sworn to never open. Her and Zuma racing as pups, her and Zuma working together on missions, their time in Adventure City, her telling him about her plans to open her very own flight school, him telling her he was writing a book, how excited she'd felt after buying her copy and opening it for the first time, everything that had come after…

The phone buzzed again. There was a ten-tonne weight attached to Skye's paw as she raised it to hit the answer icon. It paused an inch above the screen and hung there as her brain screamed at her.

ANSWER IT!

DON'T ANSWER IT!

YOU NEED TO TALK TO HIM!

HE BETRAYED YOU!

YOU'LL REGRET IT IF YOU DON'T!

HE RUINED EVERYTHING AND HE'LL RUIN YOU AS WELL!

HE WAS YOUR FRIEND!

HE'S NOT YOUR FRIEND!

CHASE IS WRONG!

CHASE IS RIGHT!

The phone went silent. Skye continued looking down at it even after the screen went black. This time, the barriers she'd spent months erecting and cementing crumbled like tissue paper, dissolving into nothing, and the tears came freely.

NOW

'You gonna buy something?'

Skye blinked and looked up to her left. A large, balding man was stood in the shop doorway, looking down at her suspiciously. He must've been the owner.

'Huh?' She said gracelessly.

'You've been sitting and staring for a while, figured you might be interested in one of 'em.' He gestured towards the TVs. 'I can offer a fair price.'

Skye looked back at the TV in the centre. The talk show with Ryder had ended, followed by a news segment. How long had she been sitting here? 'Oh, er, no thanks. Just looking.'

She walked away briskly, feeling the eyes of the shopkeeper on her all the way. She headed straight home, the sun just beginning to set by the time she stepped through the door. She felt disoriented, like she'd just woken from a long nap, and had to sit down. She chose the old, squishy beanbag next to the sofa. It, and the tacky bone-print blanket covering it, had been a Christmas present from her old agent eleven years ago.

She spied her phone lying in its charging port on the dog-sized coffee table in the middle of the room. She got up and grabbed it from the table, placing it on the floor in front of her. She swiped a paw across the screen until a familiar contact number appeared. She spent several moments just looking down at it, her thoughts swirling around like a turbulent storm. It was an old number, probably not even in use anymore. Even if she wanted to, there would be no point in trying it, and even if it did work, what then? Why was she even considering anything at all? She needed to prepare for her return to work tomorrow. She didn't want to speak to him. He no doubt didn't want to speak to her. One unpleasant trip down memory lane wouldn't change that, wouldn't change everything that happened, everything she had run from. No, she hadn't run. Had she? Is that what this was? No, it wasn't…was it?

'It just feels like you're done with us.'

Skye bit her lip so hard she almost drew blood. When trapped in a storm, a pilot lowered their altitude for their own safety. When did that become a nosedive? Was this what "safety" felt like? Was the storm in this situation of her own making, or something else entirely? The thoughts were too loud, too unclear, they only made her feel all the more lost.

Before she could stop herself, Skye brought her paw straight down onto the phone's screen, hitting the call icon for Zuma's number.