A/N- Woo! Got the next chapter here, guys! We're getting so close to the end of this fanfic! This was such perfect timing to post this chapter as I'll be going on my annual family vacation in a few days, so I won't be posting any new chapters for a while—at least not until I get back!

Also, I have to say I am delighted to know that most of you seem to like the Chris x Mrs. Brisby ship! I think a lot of you saw it coming anyway, so thanks to those of you who have enjoyed their chemistry so far in this fanfic!

Well, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! I look forward to seeing you all soon in chapter 26!

Reviews:

STG96: Omg, I love that song! I could definitely hear something like that playing in the background while Chris and Mrs. Brisby have their romantic moment! Thank you, and yeah, I figured since he's been out in the wild for a long while now, some facial hair would've come in at some point ^^

Lelouch-Strife: Lol XD

godzillafan1: Yup, no doubt about it! Also, seeing more Secret of NIMH fanfics would be nice! I have seen people take inspiration from other fanfics to write their own, so it's definitely a possibility! Thank you very much, my friend ^w^

ric castle: Aww, I'm so happy to hear! I'm glad you ship them! And careful indeed!

Chapter 25

Trapped Like a Bird in a Cage

Dusk settled in, and by the time it did, Mrs. Brisby and Chris arrived to meet with Justin at the side of the farmhouse just as they had promised right on time. Though Mrs. Brisby would much rather have melted into Chris like snow in the springtime while they kissed, there were those depending on her to plant the powder in Dragon's food, and she could not stray from that mission nor lose her focus. This was far more important. Dangerous it would be, but it was for her family, especially Timmy.

From one's point of view, on the side of the farmhouse, they could see a trellis being invaded by vines and roots, as if they were trying to annex the farmhouse while shrubbery concealed parts of it. Most would be blindsided by the fact that there was a chink in the trellis that led into a crawlspace, and that was precisely that for Chris when his eyes goggled the moment Justin indicated where they'd be entering to get to where they needed to be. The trio slipped through it, then had to do a freefall at a drop that was about a foot down in the darkness, landed on some hay that broke it, and were immediately met with all assortments of junk littering and piling the crawlspace—some stored away until later on in a different season or were intrinsically forgotten. The crawlspace was a fixer-upper, though that was not in Mrs. Brisby's place to say.

Perched on a mound of rubble and dirt was an open box bulging with items that Mrs. Brisby assumed might've been some decor, but she could not say for sure. A strip of light poured over them, and it was not hard to miss where the source was coming from. Up on the ceiling was a small hole big enough for a mouse to fit through.

It was the very hole Mrs. Brisby would need to venture through to get to Dragon's food bowl.

Mrs. Brisby quietly gulped, fidgeting with her fingers as anxiety writhed in her gut, threatening to make her vomit as clanking dishes, running water, and footsteps padded and sounded above. There was no backing down now, and she tried to purge the consternation stirring inside her, only for the imagery of Jonathan's demise from the Spinner to slam into the forefront of her mind as if it were taunting her that she'd die the same way. That there was no hope for her or her children.

A pair of familiar, warm hands encircled hers, and everything bad that had come crashing over her at once like a tsunami washed away. Mrs. Brisby craned her neck, her sapphire blue gaze colliding with Chris's green gaze, and instant warmth and comfort unspooled inside her. It wouldn't matter how long she held it onto his, for each time they were near each other, touched platonically, or even shared a look, she now knew how much she meant to him and didn't have to hide anything from him. They were each other's support system through the challenging endeavors, the sunlight through the dark clouds.

The hope that ignited the other.

Chris pressed a kiss on her temple, and butterflies erupted in Mrs. Brisby's stomach. "You'll be okay," the tiny human murmured. "Just block everything out and breathe steadily. You're not going to die today."

Mrs. Brisby shut her eyes and drew a deep breath before releasing it. She could do this. It took everything within her not to engage in a kiss, for once she did, she'd drop what she was about to do. It certainly didn't help that the memory of Chris's kiss still blazed on her lips.

She gently squeezed his hands. "Chris?" Mrs. Brisby said, almost below a whisper. "Please be here when I return."

Chris requited the gesture. "I wouldn't dream of abandoning you."

Mrs. Brisby closed her eyes, relishing the warmth of his hands before she had to begrudgingly let go as if it would be the last time she would feel them… like it also might be the last time she would see Chris.

"Mrs. Brisby?" Justin spoke up, his words floating to Mrs. Brisby and Chris's ears, and they didn't need to ask.

It was time.

Gathering what courage she could muster, Mrs. Brisby traipsed to the base of the junk, where Justin stood with Chris dogging her steps. Together, the trio began making their ascent, and Mrs. Brisby chanted in her mind not to look down. Heights had always made her queasy, and as uncanny as that was—given that she was a field mouse and her species were accustomed to it—an incident in her childhood left a mark she didn't like to reflect on, thus leading to her fear. She didn't confess to a lot of people why and how she developed it, but to the few she did, it was because they were family and friends who didn't critique her, chalk it up as it all being in her head, or didn't make fun of her. Mrs. Brisby hoped to divulge more about it to Chris when given the opportunity, especially since he didn't know the full version.

"Nervous?" Justin probed the field mouse.

Mrs. Brisby was secretly thankful for him giving her a distraction and truthfully replied, "Very."

"Well, don't be. You'll be okay."

I hope so, Mrs. Brisby thought of saying but kept it to herself. Instead, she brought up the first thing that came to mind: the other day when she and Chris found themselves in the middle of the meeting concerning the Plan. Though she had tried to brush it under the rug, it did not stop the guilt from twinging inside her as she felt like she was putting more of a load on Justin and the other rats. "Justin? About yesterday… I hope Chris and I haven't upset your plans."

At that, Justin paused and gazed at Mrs. Brisby with a mixture of kindness, inquisitiveness, and concern. "Nonsense," he reassured her. "What makes you say that?"

Mrs. Brisby's throat bobbed, but she forged on. "I thought we might've caused an argument."

It did not take long for realization to pass over Justin's features with what the field mouse alluded to. "Oh, you mean Jenner? No problem."

"He's not going to give us any problems, is he?" Chris inquired.

"I should hope not, but if he does…" Justin then shrugged. "He'll have to be knocked down a peg or two. He's been evading consequences for a while now anyway and will have to face them eventually."

"When you put it that way, I suppose that is a comforting thought."

Mrs. Brisby nodded in agreement before the trio continued their scaling. If she were to be honest, Jenner made her stomach flutter with nervous energy and couldn't blame Chris for asking Justin that question. The aura surrounding Jenner sent chills up and down her spine, and she certainly wouldn't forget when he cupped her hand in what appeared to be a friendly gesture the other day at the meeting that was delayed for a bit, for she felt unsterilized and uneasy after. And if things weren't uncomfortable enough, he had the audacity to challenge Chris to a duel and likely even intended to humiliate him. Mrs. Brisby gave a little shudder, not wishing to think about the worst outcome that could've been for the one she had feelings for.

They were almost to the pinnacle of a green bottle in a holder that sat on top of all the clutter, and before Mrs. Brisby had to carry on with her mission, she had something she wanted to say to Justin and allowed the words to flow off her tongue to him before it was too late. "Justin, no words can describe how thankful I am to you and the others, and I sincerely hope you make it to Thorn Valley."

A genuine smile curved Justin's mouth. "We will," he promised, his expression then turning sober. "This is as far Chris and I can go; the rest is now up to you." His ears then flicked toward the hole in the ceiling. "Shh! Listen."

Everyone fell pin-drop silent, straining to hear and not once taking a breath until they soon made out what sounded like crinkling and light taps against plastic. That could only mean one thing…

"My aunt must be filling Dragon's bowl," Chris registered.

Justin nodded, confirming what he said.

Mrs. Brisby took a moment to breathe in and out quietly. Then, she leaned her head over her shoulder to Chris, looking at him one final time before attempting to fulfill this mission alone.

As if knowing she needed encouragement, Chris nodded to her, his green irises filled with faith and love for her.

That was all she needed. After mirroring the gesture to him, Mrs. Brisby crested the bottle and squeezed through the hole into the kitchen. It did not take long for her to notice Mrs. Fitzgibbons from underneath the cabinet, but she couldn't see her entire frame. All she picked out were her limbs, pale brown high-heel shoes hugging her feet, and her lilac purple skirt. However, nearby Mrs. Fitzgibbons was Dragon's bowl filled to the brim with kibbles—Mrs. Brisby's target. The bowl was green and had Dragon's name printed on it in bold and capital words. It was almost like it was mocking her the same way the imagery of Jonathan being murdered by Dragon from the Spinner did earlier… and it was frankly starting to make her feel more small and neurotic than she already was.

"Come back down as soon as you're finished," Justin got across from inside the hole, "and you better leave that cape. Could get caught on something."

Taking his advice, Mrs. Brisby peeled off her cape and amulet and slid them through the hole. Justin took hold of them and hung them on the rope attached to the bottle. After he did, he fished out the packet from his tunic that contained the sleeping powder and presented it to the field mouse.

"Here's the powder. Remember to tear it open before you go out to Dragon's bowl. Be careful, and good luck."

With shaky hands, Mrs. Brisby took hold of the packet. Suddenly, she heard yowling coming from outside—Dragon. Fear took hold of her throat in a vice-like grip and paralyzed her. Mrs. Brisby could barely pull air into her lungs, and her entire body shook like a leaf. She didn't want to die like how her late husband did.

"I don't think I can do this," Mrs. Brisby whispered toward the hole in a trembling voice, tears on the verge of leaking from her eyes.

"Elizabeth, you can," Chris said in a soothing tone, his face almost poking through the hole. "Remember what I said: just block everything out and breathe steadily. Concentrate on the bowl and nothing else."

Mrs. Brisby gulped quietly but felt less shaken with Chris nearby and hearing his voice. She did as he said and squeezed her eyes shut, pushing down the fear wishing to consume her, expunged all thoughts, and breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. Her nerves slowly began to abate, not by a whole lot, but enough to the point where terror wouldn't hold her back from what she came here to do. Mrs. Brisby was glad that Chris came along, and though she couldn't imagine what was going on in his mind at the moment, especially when he was beneath his aunt, it was nice to know that she was his main priority at that moment.

The field mouse inched toward the edge of the cabinet, hugging the packet against her tightly, and managed to get a better view of the kitchen. More cabinets lined the wall, along with a white gas stove, and more of Mrs. Fitzgibbons came into her peripheral view, but just up to her shoulders. Mrs. Brisby counted her heartbeats, waiting for the right moment to take action.

Mrs. Fitzgibbons added the final touches to the meal she made in a pot before sealing it with a lid. She emitted a sigh, hands planted on her hips. "There," she commented, though she didn't sound enthusiastic from what Mrs. Brisby could tell, almost as if she were missing something… or rather a certain someone. "The stew is done, the bread's in the oven, the table is set…"

Mrs. Fitzgibbons' mindful thoughts popped like a bubble when Dragon started yowling impatiently again, wanting his food.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming, Dragon. Don't get fussy with me."

"There you go," Justin uttered to Mrs. Brisby, keeping his voice low as his head popped up through the hole. He watched as the field mouse tore open the packet as noiselessly as possible, and she stepped closer. "Steady now. Steady…"

Mrs. Fitzgibbons strode toward the door, heels clacking against the purple and orange checkered floor.

"Now." There was a slight hesitation on Mrs. Brisby's end, but it didn't last long as Justin echoed with his voice rising a few notches, "Now!"

Mrs. Brisby launched herself into the open and scrambled toward the bowl, her irises daring not to dart anywhere else within the house, padlocking her hearing from her surroundings. She leaped onto the bowl and dumped the contents of the packet into the food, and as soon as she did, she abandoned the empty packet and vaulted off the bowl, accidentally sprinkling out a few of the kibbles from it and raced back toward the hole.

"Get back," Justin called out to her hushedly.

Time slowed to heartbeats, her breath freezing in her heated chest as all fours carried her across the room as fast as they could. Like Chris said, she wouldn't die today. Mrs. Brisby tripped on air once but quickly rebounded and kept sprinting.

Almost there, the field mouse assured herself, gaining closer to the safety beneath the cabinet. Just keep–

Something slammed over her with a clang, darkening everything around her. Mrs. Brisby didn't have time to come to a halt. She made an impact with a wall, and her world faded to blackness.

"Mom, don't let the cat in yet. I've caught a mouse."

Chris's breath hitched, and his eyes bulged with fear when he heard the sound of metal above him. What made matters worse was when his cousin's voice came in and what he said.

"Billy, you butthead," Chris gritted out.

"A mouse?" Chris's aunt reiterated.

"Can I keep it? Can I?" Billy asked.

Justin shimmied down, but as he did, Chris, on impulse, began clambering up. He had to free Mrs. Brisby; he couldn't leave her like this. However, he didn't get very far when Justin immediately clasped the leg of his jeans.

"Chris, no," Justin firmly said, right as Chris's aunt replied to Billy, "No, Billy. Put it outside."

"Oh, Mom, please," Billy begged. "I can keep it in Porgy's old cage."

A beat of silence followed, but then Chris's aunt reluctantly said, "Alright, you can keep the mouse only if you take good care of it."

"I will, Mom. I promise."

Chris cursed under his breath and tried to pull away from Justin, but the rat held firm. Not the gilded cage! He wanted to cry out. Elizabeth is not a pet! She has a family that needs her!

"Justin, let go," Chris demanded in an indignant tone. "She needs our help."

"Chris, she's going to be okay," Justin stated, trying to get through to the tiny human. "We will help her, but we can't go headlong into the kitchen without a plan. Doing that without one will jeopardize everything. We will return for her, but we must join the others first at the Brisby home. You need to trust me on this."

Chris wanted to wrangle with him because a field mouse and a gilded cage did not mix well together… but after a moment, he began turning over his words meticulously. Justin was right. They couldn't risk anything now, and Chris's emotions had almost gotten the better of him, thus nearly severing the mission. They had to tread carefully, not only for Mrs. Brisby's sake but also for the sake of her children and home. Though he was concerned for her, Chris had to trust that she would be okay, but he vowed to return for her later.

He meant what he said to her: he wouldn't dream of abandoning her.

A long sigh floated from Chris's mouth, but he managed to say, "Alright… let's go."

After having no choice but to leave Mrs. Brisby behind, Chris and Justin dashed across the field to the Brisby home at the fastest speed possible. Clouds had darkened the sky a while ago, thunder occasionally lighting up the sky and rumbling, and if anything, it was likely that rain would soon fall from the heavens like angels were crying. Perhaps even now, while the duo rushed to where everyone else was. Luckily, though, that wasn't the case, and they soon made it to the Brisby home. However, there appeared to have been a conflict.

A feud was happening, and when Chris and Justin got a look at what was going on, Chris had to bite back a groan. Standing in defense mode in front of the Brisby home was Auntie Shrew, brandishing her makeshift cane at the rats trying to dig and set up what they needed to move the house.

"Go back to where you came from!" the shrew shouted, spittle flying from her lips.

"Ma'am, I told you five times now that we do have Mrs. Brisby's consent," a rat Chris saw to be Arthur had to explain yet again, trying to be reasonable. "She wants us to move her house. Ask the children. Call them out."

His words rang hollow to the shrew. "Rubbish! What have you done with Brisby?! It's a good thing the children haven't heard you! They'd be frightened half to death! If Brisby wanted you to move her house, she'd be here!"

"Do you know her?" Justin queried, getting a glimpse of Chris's face as they watched the quarreling escalate.

"Unfortunately," Chris dully said. The two made their way over to the others that had reached a stalemate, and the tiny human called out to the shrew. "Auntie Shrew!"

Everyone whirled around. "Fitzgibbons!" Auntie Shrew exclaimed. "Do you see what's happening?!" She leveled her cane in the rats' direction. "I found these creatures trying to dig up Brisby's house! They're trying to steal it and kidnap the children!"

"That is far from it!" Arthur protested before speaking to Chris and Justin. "I tried explaining to her, but she won't believe me. She even whacked me on the head with that cane of hers." He kneaded the back of his head. "Quite hard, I might add."

Confusion creased Auntie Shrew's brow when Arthur said all that to not only Justin but also Chris. As fast as it came, though, it was soon replaced with pure fury as her eyes trained on the tiny human. "You are in league with these ruffians?!" she yelled, pointing accusingly at Chris with her cane. "I should've known you were! I knew you were trouble when you showed up in the first place! You're no better than them!"

Chris rubbed the bridge of his nose. She was testing the last of his patience, but he had to make her see reason. If the house wasn't moved, it would be exposed to his uncle's plow once again and likely wouldn't see another day… which would also mean Timmy's early end on Earth.

Chris ping-ponged his gaze between Justin and Arthur, communicating to them through his facial expression that he'd handle Auntie Shrew, and went to approach her. "This is not what it looks like," he attempted to clear up placidly.

"Isn't it?" the shrew challenged. "I see it all clearly"—she jabbed her cane in Chris's chest—"do not take me for a fool, Fitzgibbons!"

Chris rubbed at the dull ache forming on his chest, his jaw clenched. "If you'll just let me explain–"

"What is there to explain?! It is apparent what is happening here!"

"Listen to me–"

"I don't know what Brisby saw in you, but she never should've had anything to do with you! She was nothing but kind to you, but how do you repay her?! By trying to destroy her home and taking away the only family she has left!"

Chris's frustration began to mount, even though he tried to taper it down, gesticulating with his hands. "Listen to me–"

"You are a disgusting human being! You have no remorse for what–"

At that moment, something snapped inside the tiny human as he cut off Auntie Shrew's sentence and barked out: "LISTEN TO ME!"

Silent tension permeated the air. The rats awkwardly glanced at each other while Auntie Shrew was agape and at a loss for words, like Chris petrified her voice into oblivion.

Chris dragged in a few breaths and then let them out through his nose, his anger slowly dissipating. Not wanting to cause more of a scene, he resolutely albeit judiciously pulled Auntie Shrew off to the side, to which she did not fight him on, and it was likely because she was still shell-shocked he raised his voice like that to a crescendo at her. The last thing Chris wanted, though, was a whole new argument created, and he needed a cool head while trying to make Auntie Shrew understand what was happening. While she was unbearable at times, he understood that she was only looking out for Mrs. Brisby and the children.

"The rats are not what you make them out to be," Chris began elucidating, "Mrs. Brisby and I sought them out for help, and they were generous enough to accept."

"Generous?" Auntie Shrew repeated like that word was a novelty to her. "Great hulking beasts, rats are not generous. They are thieves and take pride in that."

"Yes, they were at first, but they've seen the error of their ways and are trying to change that, but I won't get into that. What matters is that they've come all this way just to move the Brisby home so it can remain intact and that Timmy won't have higher chances of dying from pneumonia."

Even after he said all that, the suspicion homing between Auntie Shrew's brows did not smooth out. Chris was bent on changing that, though.

"Look, you don't have to like the rats," he pressed on, "you don't have to like me either, but all I'm asking is that you trust me on this. Without the rats, the house won't be moved, which means my uncle's plow will run over not only it but also Timmy as well. You and I both know that it would crush Mrs. Brisby if she lost her son like she lost her late husband, so please don't fight something that will likely help Timmy. This is our only option at this point."

A long beat of silence expanded between them while the throng of rats stood by with their eyes still on them, waiting for what would unfold next. Auntie Shrew had adorned a contemplative expression, her gaze surveying each of the rats. Chris didn't disrupt her and could only hope she would take what he said with a grain of salt.

After a moment passed, the shrew's shoulders dipped in a sigh. "Do not make me regret this, Christopher Fitzgibbons."

Relief surged within Chris, glad that he didn't need to try and convince her any further. "I won't," he swore.

Auntie Shrew studied the colony, and Chris could tell that she was looking for someone, and he didn't need to ask who she was trying to spot. "Where is Brisby?"

Chris's throat pinched closed for a few seconds, but he was able to say, "She's trapped at the farmhouse."

The shrew's eyes flew wide. "What?!"

"It's a long story, but don't worry, she will be okay. I'm going back there to help her, but someone needs to watch the children and ensure they're safe while the house is being moved."

"Say no more," Auntie Shrew immediately said. "I've watched over the children for as long as I can remember, but what am I to say to them?"

"I'll speak to them about this before I make my way back to the farmhouse. I think it'll be easier if they heard it from me."

After coming to an accord, Chris signaled the rats to continue where they had left off. They did not hesitate to get back to work setting up what they needed and starting what they were about to begin. While the rats were putting all their focus and energy onto their tasks, Chris excused himself from Auntie Shrew and picked his way over to Justin, who was currently speaking with Mr. Ages. He approached them at perfect timing as they were now wrapping up their discussion.

"Did you tell him what happened?" Chris guessed, his words drifting in Justin's direction.

"Everything from start to finish," Justin affirmed.

A weary sigh spilled out of Mr. Ages' mouth as he doffed his lenses and rubbed the space between his brows. "I am too old for this drama," he admitted, placing his specs back on his nose—their rightful place. "But I suppose the good thing that came out of this is that Mrs. Brisby managed to get the powder in Dragon's bowl and didn't get killed."

Chris could agree with that; he didn't know what he'd done with himself should something terrible have happened to Mrs. Brisby. While it was alleviating that she was okay, it did not help that she was confined in the farmhouse in that birdcage that Billy had kept his canary Porgy in before the poor thing passed away due to old age. Mrs. Brisby couldn't live in that, not only because she had a family that needed her but also because she was a mouse—an undomestic one—and not a bird. A heavy bucket of cold reality had to crash over Billy's head because he could not keep her, and Chris was more than stout enough to help the one he loved and cared for deeply break out, and nothing would stop him from accomplishing that.

"I'm going back for her," Chris said with vehement purpose.

"And do you have a plan in mind, Mr. Fitzgibbons?" Mr. Ages questioned, almost as if he were dubious of what the tiny human was formulating.

There was a pause, but then Chris confessed, "No… not really at least."

"Not to worry, we will come up with one," Justin calmly said with a bit of positivity laced in his voice. "As long as Mrs. Brisby can hang in there—which I have no doubt about—she'll be out of the farmhouse and back here in no time."

There was a lot on their plate now, but Chris tried to be internally optimistic and determined. They could work their way around all this, right? Either way, Chris had a feeling that tonight would get more hectic than it already was.

Everything had happened so fast. She was bolting back to the hole one moment, but all else was fuzzy. Mrs. Brisby had come to and found herself imprisoned in a gilded birdcage… high above the ground. She felt nauseated to her stomach, terror expanding what pressure there was in her throat, and she had to move back so she didn't pass out as she was starting to get dizzy from seeing how far down the ground was from the cage.

The odor of a canary that once occupied it lingered in the air, indicating that it hadn't been scrubbed clean well—possibly never had been cleaned in the first place even—and the scent overpowered her olfactory. It did not help that she had a splitting headache, her eyes intensely sore, especially from the bright lights overhead. Mrs. Brisby massaged her head, but that alone didn't do much. She knew what she had to do to smother it, but the throbbing pulse in her forehead was the least of her concerns, mainly when she had more significant issues at hand.

The field mouse swept her gaze over her prison. She was standing over some paper that spread the floor like a rug with words scrawled over it, but her feet still managed to get cold. There was a bag woven from purple and blue yarn, and Mrs. Brisby supposed that it was meant to be a bed, and next to it was a shiny, round, looking glass. The birdcage also came with a swing that was attached to the roof and a plastic water bowl—it didn't exactly look like one and had more of a cuboid shape to it—that was wedged by a block from underneath and was squeezed tight by a hole in the thin, goldish bars that were about as thin as twigs.

Mrs. Brisby tried opening the gilded cage by jiggling what she thought to be the door, but as she suspected, it was locked. Her arms could fit through the bars, but she could not reach what was locking the door. She tried to climb the bars, but it was futile, and they were about as slippery as mud.

This was not good, but possibly the only good thing about being in this gilded birdcage was that Dragon would not be able to reach her.

Earlier, the Fitgibbons ate their dinner, and the family boy, Billy, plopped some sustenance into the metal cage—Mrs. Brisby's meal. The food consisted of bread crumbs, cheese, and bits of carrot, and while it did look delectable, Mrs. Brisby had no appetite. All she could do was sit and plot out a way out of her confinement.

After dinner, Billy stared at her for a while, waiting to see if Mrs. Brisby would do anything. She barely did something that would excite a child, and he eventually grew bored and went to his room to preoccupy himself with something. The field mouse did not mind that at all. She would rather not have a pair of eyes watching her every movement and was starting to grasp a better understanding of how the rats felt when they were immured back at NIMH.

As the minutes ticked by, Mrs. Brisby suddenly became aware of the atmosphere. It was quiet, too quiet for the matter. Usually, a home had a content quality to it, but something felt off in the Fitzgibbons' farmhouse, as if some living source sucked the energy from the household.

Mrs. Brisby pricked her ears when she distinguished a sigh coming from the kitchen table. She lifted her gaze to see Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgibbons seated at the table, lost in thought. They appeared worried and distressed about something, mostly it being Mrs. Fitzgibbons as she nursed a mug of tea.

"It's been a few days now, and still nothing on Chris—besides his belongings that Sheriff Reeds and his team found," Mrs. Fitzgibbons said in a depressed manner, shattering the silence.

"I know, Beth," Mr. Fitzgibbons spoke, almost in a small voice.

At the mention of Chris, Mrs. Brisby crossed over to the other side of the cage to eavesdrop on them.

Mrs. Fitzgibbons set her mug on the table and threaded her fingers through her natural blonde hair, stressed. "Where could he possibly be? How is it possible that he can just… disappear like that? It doesn't make any sense…"

"I know," Mr. Fitzgibbons said again, placing his palm on his wife's shoulder and gently squeezing it. "We can't lose all hope though. Maybe Chris isn't far and is somewhere that hasn't been scoured yet."

Mrs. Fitzgibbons clasped her hands and pressed them against her chin, elbows propped on the table. "Billy will eventually discover why he hasn't returned yet; we can't keep this under wraps long." Tears began lining her eyes. "Someone should've gone with him… then we wouldn't be in this situation. I won't forgive myself if…" Her sentence broke off as she jammed her hands over her face, and muffled sobs escaped her.

Mr. Fitzgibbons pulled his wife into the circle of his arms and stroked her hair. "It's going to be okay," he said, solacing her. "If we have to, we'll find him on our own without the police. All we can do now is hope that he'll be back."

As Mrs. Brisby took in their words and expressions, her eyes welled up, her heart tearing into millions of shreds. Guilt settled like a stone in her gut, and she crumpled to her knees, burying her face in her hands, and quietly wept. Mrs. Brisby truly loved Chris but couldn't bear the thought of keeping him away from his family. She was taking him away from his normal life and thrusting him into her labyrinthine world. Chris had a family in the human world that missed him terribly, and that was where he was meant to be, not in the wild.

A human was never meant to be with a mouse.