TRIGGER WARNING! Graphic depictions of character illness and some physical violence!

Rage Against the Silence: Part One

Verne was well aware of his tendency to worry. It wasn't a habit or a phase – it was just who he was. From as far back as he could remember, his mind was a perpetual hamster wheel of what-ifs and worst-case scenarios. He would lie awake in the dead of night, turning over every scenario, every possibility, until exhaustion won out or morning crept in.

Most of the time, he knew it was irrational. His anxieties were like ghost stories: frightening in the moment, but powerless under scrutiny. Yet this time was different. This time, he couldn't shake the creeping certainty that something was truly wrong.

It started with RJ's return from the vet. At first, Verne thought it was simply the aftermath of a bad experience. Anyone would feel shaken after what RJ had been through. But the changes in him went far beyond nerves or embarrassment. It was like RJ had stepped out of his own skin and returned as someone Verne barely recognised.

Initially, the raccoon had thrown himself into a whirlwind of frenetic activity, hatching one over-the-top plan after another. Reckless schemes that ignored every rule and, in Verne's opinion, but everyone at risk. The kind of behaviour Verne had naively hoped was behind them all. He'd been relieved – grateful, even – when RJ finally crashed, burning out from his own impossible pace.

But the relief had been short-lived. When the dust had settled, RJ hadn't returned to his usual self. Far from it.

If anything, Verne found this new version of RJ even more troubling. The raccoon who once thrived on attention and adrenaline now moved through life like a ghost. He was present, but only just. There was no spark in his eyes, no energy in his movements. His once-lavish schemes were replaced with long, silent hours spent wandering the forest alone. When asked about these disappearances, RJ would shrug, his tail flicking dismissively behind him, and mutter something vague about 'clearing his head'.

Verne wasn't the only one who had noticed.

"I don't like this," Stella said one evening, her tone as sharp as the look in her eyes. They were perched on the log by the firepit, watching RJ sit with Heather and Hammy, his laugh too short, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. His fur looked dull in the firelight, and there was a hollowness in his face that Verne tried not to focus on.

Verne sighed. "I know. Believe me, I know."

"I've tried talking to him," Stella continued, her voice low and quick. "And he brushes me off like I'm imagining it. But this isn't just RJ being RJ. He's… different."

"I've tried too," Verne admitted, his shoulders slumping. "But he's not exactly open to conversation. Especially not with me."

Stella tilted her head, her gaze narrowing. "What do you mean, 'especially not with you'?"

"He's been cold toward me ever since that day at the lake," Verne said quietly. "I thought maybe he was regretting opening up, but this goes beyond that. He's pulling away from all of us."

Stella's eyes softened, but her tone stayed firm. "Then what's his deal? Embarrassment? Guilt? Shame? Or something else?"

Verne shook his head. "I don't know. I've been over it a hundred times in my head, and I can't figure it out. I don't think its just embarrassment, though. He's been distant with you too, hasn't he?"

Stella snorted, her lips pressing into a tight line. "Like you wouldn't believe. He goes through the motions – chats about politics, laughs at Hammy's antics – but it's all surface-level. Theres nothing behind it."

She hesitated a moment, glancing over at RJ again, before lowering her voice even further. "Verne, what if he's in trouble again? In debt or something?"

The words hit Verne like a stone in his gut. "Debt?"

Stella nodded grimly. "Think about it. He's acting secretive. Wandering off for hours. He's tense, but not in a way that screams guilt. It's more like… stress. The kind of stress that comes from being trapped. I've seen it before."

Verne opened his mouth to dismiss the idea, but the words wouldn't come. Stella's logic made a horrible kind of sense. As much as he hated to admit it, the signs were there.

"I don't know," he said finally, though his voice lacked conviction. "I mean, I haven't seen any evidence of it. And he hasn't said anything…"

"He's not said anything because he doesn't want us to know!" Stella countered. "He probably thinks he can handle it on his own."

Verne frowned, his brow furrowing in thought. "If he is… if you're right, and this is about debt, then we need to know who he's dealing with this time, and how bad it is."

"We need to know something," Stella agreed. "Because whatever it is, he's not going to come clean on his own. Not unless we figure out a way to make him."

As if one cue, RJ glanced over at them, his ears flicking forwards as if he'd sensed the weight of their stares. He straightened a little, leaning forward to ruffle Hammy's fur in a move that was just a little too exaggerated to feel natural.

"Don't tell me you guys are gossiping over there," RJ called, his tone teasing but lacking its usual warmth. "Careful, or I'll start thinking it's about me."

Stella arched a brow, while Verne forced a nervous chuckle. "Of course not," Verne replied. "Just… uh… logistics."

RJ snorted, his smirk faltering for just a fraction of a second before he settled back against the log. "Right. Logistics."

They watched as RJ made a valiant effort to appear more engaged, laughing a little louder, chiming in with Heather and Hammy. But the hollowness lingered, like a shadow he couldn't quite shake.

After a while, Stella leaned forward, her tone casual but deliberate. "Hey, RJ. You thinking about planning another heist? We've been pretty quiet on that front lately."

RJ blinked, caught off guard. For a moment, his face went blank, like he was considering brushing off the question entirely. Then his usual smirk crept back onto his face, albeit weaker than usual. "Maybe. Got a few ideas, but nothing concrete yet."

At the word 'heist', Hammy immediately perked up, bouncing excitedly. "Ooh, a heist! Cookies, right? Lots and lots of cookies!"

Heathe chuckled, and even Stella offered a faint smile, but her gaze stayed fixed on RJ, watching his every move.

"Sounds promising," Stella said, her voice almost too smooth. "I'll gather us all together tomorrow. You know, toss some ideas around."

RJ shrugged noncommittally, clearly uninterested but willing to play along. "Sure. Whatever."

Verne exchanged a look with Stella, her expression confirming what they both already knew: this was their chance to get RJ talking.

The forest clearing was alive with the faint murmurs of the group. The porcupine triplets whispered to each other softly, while Heather and Ozzie perched on a fallen log, their eyes flicking uneasily between RJ and the others. Even Hammy, normally a whirlwind of energy, was subdued, crouching on the ground fiddling with a small twig.

At the centre of it all stood RJ, his figure silhouetted against the glow of a lantern that flickered atop the mossy stump he was using as a makeshift table. A crumpled map was spread out before him, its edges fluttering fainty in the breeze.

"Alright," RJ said, his voice sharp and clipped. "The target's a house on Maple Lane." He jabbed a finger at the map, where a crude drawing of the neighbourhood was scrawled. "It's quiet, out of the way, and the pantry is stocked to the brim. Perfect haul."

The group leaned in closer. Heather tilted her head as she squinted at the map. "So, like, how stocked are we talking?" she asked, her voice low.

"Enough that you'll forget your questions once we're eating," RJ said quickly, waving Heather off without looking at her. His tone was brusque, distracted, and the usual spark of charisma that guided these sessions was glaringly absent.

Stella folded her arms and studied him closely. He had deep shadows under his eyes, and his sharp, calculating demeanour felt forced tonight, as though he were going through the motions.

"So, here's how it's going to work," RJ continued. He pointed to different sections of the map. "Hammy, you're on distraction duty. Make noise, draw the dog out of the way. Ozzie and Heather, you're on lookout. The family are out tonight, they shouldn't be back early but keep an eye out just in case. Stella, you'll cover the back door. Verne and I will handle the main haul."

The group exchanged glances. Usually, RJ's planning sessions were lively, filled with jokes and clever observations that put everyone at ease. Tonight, his voice was flat and mechanical, like he couldn't be bothered to care.

Hammy raised a paw hesitantly. "Uh, RJ? What if – "

"Doesn't matter," RJ interrupted sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. He straightened up, brushing the map aside. "Just stick to the plan, and we'll be fine."

The clearing fell silent, the groups unease palpable.

Stella stepped forward, her expression barely masking her concern. "RJ, can we talk?" she said, her voice firm.

RJ stiffened slightly, but didn't turn to face her. "Now?" he asked, his tone laced with irritation.

"Yes," Stella said unflinchingly. She glanced around at the rest of the group. "In private."

RJ sighed heavily and turned toward her, his eyes narrowing. "I don't think now's the best time for –"

"It is," Verne interrupted gently, stepping up beside Stella. "We're not starting this heist until we figure out what's going on with you."

RJ's paws curled into fists, his tail lashing behind him. "What's there to figure out?" he snapped. "I'm fine. Now can we stop wasting time and move out?"

"No," Stella said, her voice rising. "You're coming with us. Now."

RJ opened his mouth to argue but saw the resolve in Stella's eyes. The rest of the group watched anxiously, their gazes darting between the three of them. With a sharp exhale, RJ threw the map back onto the stump.

"Fine," he growled. "Let's talk."

He stalked to the edge of the clearing, his steps quick and angry. Stella and Verne followed close behind, the tension between them thick enough to choke on.

The three of them moved deeper into the trees, far enough from the clearing that the group's whispers and the glow of the lantern faded into the distance. The shadows pressed in around them, the rustling of leaves and the occasional distant hoot of an owl the only sounds.

RJ leaned against a tree, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. His fingers drumming impatiently against his fur. "Alright," he said curtly. "What's so important."

"What's going on with you?" Stella demanded, her voice sharp.

"Nothing. Next question," RJ replied immediately, his tone cold.

"That's a lie," Verne said softly, stepping closer. "We can see it, RJ. You've been distant, distracted, and snappy. You're not leading us the way you usually do. This isn't you."

RJ scoffed, looking away. "So, you think you know me that well, huh?"

"Yes, we do," Stella said, stepping closer. Her voice softened slightly. "You're our family, RJ. We can tell when something's wrong. Look… if you're in trouble again –"

RJ's eyes snapped back to her, blazing with anger. "You think I've got myself in debt again, is that it?" RJ laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and cutting. "That's what you've come up with, huh? That I'm too stupid and reckless to learn my lesson the first time?"

"We didn't say that" Stella said, her voice rising. "We're saying you're acting like you're hiding something, and it's affecting all of us!"

"No. What you're saying is that you actually think I'd put this whole family at risk, again!" RJ spat. "After everything I've done, after everything. You actually think -" he spun round and pointed angrily at Verne. "After everything I told you –"

He stopped abruptly, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He pressed a paw against the trunk of a nearby tree, gripping it tightly. His claws sinking into the bark.

Stella stepped closer to him, her voice softening. "RJ, please," she said quietly. "Whatever this is –"

RJ turned sharply to face her, his eyes blazing. "Why won't you listen to what I'm telling you!" He yelled. His voice cracked slightly, but he didn't stop. "Nothing is wrong. I'm not in debt. I'm not in trouble. You're all safe from me. Got it? Now can you both just get off my back and leave me – "

His voice stopped again, his words cutting out like he'd run into a wall. His breathing was heavy, and for a moment, he just stood there, staring at the ground.

Verne stepped forward cautiously. "RJ," he said softly. "We're not going to drop this. Just tell us what's going on and we can help you. Just let us in."

RJ shook his head violently. "No", he said, his voice quieter now but just as harsh. "If you want to help me, fine. Back the hell off."

"RJ," Stella said gently, her tone almost pleading. "If you just let us in, we can – "

"Enough!" RJ shouted, his voice echoing through the trees. He straightened up, his usual defiance snapping into place like armour. "Stop creating problems where there aren't any, okay? Just get off my case!"

With that, he spun around and stomped off toward the clearing, his movement sharp and angry, twigs snapping under his feet like they'd done something to personally offend him.

Stella and Verne just stopped there, blinking at the empty space he left behind.

"Well, that was a trainwreck," Stella said, letting out a shaky breath. She shot Vere a sidelong glance. "Be honest – how bad's the tail tingle?"

"Pretty bad," Verne muttered, his face tight. "Like… full-blown warning sirens."

The sound of RJ snapping orders to the rest of the group broke the silence, his voice distant but sharp. Stella and Verne exchanged one last look before they reluctantly headed back to join the others.

The night air was heavy with tension as the family crept through the hedge toward the house of Maple Lane. The neighbourhood was dark and still, save for the occasional hum of a passing car in the distance. RJ crouched low, his sharp eyes scanning the yard for any sign of movement. The others followed behind; their steps hushed but their nerves evident in the way they glanced at each other.

"Hammy," RJ whispered sharply, "get moving. Remember – noise. Lots of it."

Hammy nodded and darted off, his movements surprisingly nimble for someone so erratic. Within moments, the sound of barking erupted from the backyard as Hammy dashed back and forth, drawing the dog out of the kennel and away from the group.

"Good," RJ muttered. "Ozzie, Heather, stay sharp." He motioned toward their lookout positions. "Stella, back door. Verne, you're with me."

The group moved into their assigned positions. Stella slipped to the back door, carefully working the latch with her claws, while RJ and Verne made their way toward an open window.

Heather, meanwhile, lingered at her post near the side of the house, her gaze flickering to the phone hidden in her paw. A small smile tugged at her lips as her fingers danced across the screen.

Inside the house, RJ and Verne moved with quick, practised efficiency, their silence filled with the rustle of cans and jars being yanked from shelves. RJ's paws flew across, the shelves grabbing whatever his fingers came in contact with. His movement were quick, but there was a tautness in the way he held himself, his shoulders stiff, and his breath shallow. Every inhale scraped against his ribs like broken glass, and a sickly metallic taste lingered in his mouth. He swallowed hard, forcing the rising nausea back down.

"RJ, about earlier…" Verne began, his voice tentative, trying the bridge the tension that had settled between them.

RJ shot him a sharp look. "Don't start Verne, we don't have time for this."

Verne clenched his jaw but didn't argue. The air between them thickened as they worked in strained silence. The sack RJ was stuffing grew heavier, the weight pulling on his grip like an anchor, but it didn't slow him down.

After a few minutes, Verne glanced out the window towards Heather.

"She's not paying attention," he murmured.

RJ didn't even look up. "She's fine."

"RJ, she's just standing there on her phone. Don't you think you should – "

"Verne," RJ snapped, his voice low but brimming with warning. "Focus."

Verne bit his tongue but couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that had settled over him. Outside, Heather was glued to her phone, barely moving. She giggled at something on the screen, her fingers flying across the keyboard, totally lost in whatever she was doing.

Then came the sound that made them both freeze: tires crunching on gravel.

A car.

They whipped their heads around, eyes locking on the dark sedan rolling into the driveway. Its headlights cut through the night like a spotlight, and the sound of the engine shutting off sent a jolt through both of them. And Heather? She didn't even notice. She just kept typing, smiling to herself.

"Crap," RJ muttered under his breath, his jaw tightening.

Verne moved to the window, gripping the frame like it would steady him. "She hasn't seen it. RJ, they're going to –"

"I know!" RJ snapped, louder than he intended.

Outside, Heather laughed softly, still completely unaware of the car sitting just a few feet away.

The car door swung shut with a metallic groan, and a figure stepped out, their shadow slicing across the yard like a blade. Heather, too absorbed in the glow of her phone, didn't notice until a sharp command shattered the stillness.

"Scout! Quiet!" the man barked, silencing the dog's furious yelps. His eyes locked on Heather, and her stomach dropped, her paw tightening around her phone as panic set in.

"Hey!" the shout ripped through the night.

Heather froze, her breath catching as the man moved towards her. Her feet refused to respond, her mind trapped in a haze of fear.

Then, RJ was there. He appeared like a blur, charging with reckless speed, his small frame colliding with the man's legs. The effort was desperate, calculated – but the man recovered too quickly. His boot lashed out in a brutal kick that struck RJ square in the chest.

RJ hit the ground hard, pain exploding through his ribs like fire. For a moment, he couldn't breathe, the world narrowing to a tunnel of searing agony.

Not now. Keep it together.

He pushed himself upright, swallowing the metallic liquid rising in his throat. His breaths were shallow, every inhale sending fresh pain lancing through his chest, but his face betrayed nothing. He waved at the others, his voice sharp.

"Go! Move!"

Heather hesitated, her wide eyes darting to RJ. But his glare left no room for argument. She bolted towards the woods, the others following close behind. RJ trailed after them, each step calculated to hide the unbearable ache in his chest. His paw brushed his ribs briefly, but he forced it back to his side, straightening as much as he could.

The clearing was quiet, moonlight casting long shadows across the group as they came to a stop. RJ staggered to a stop, letting the sack of stolen food drop heavily to the ground. His paw lingered on the strap for a moment longer than necessary, steadying himself against the growing dizziness. He gritted his teeth, forcing his breaths to come evenly, though each one sent a jolt of pain through his ribs and deeper into his chest.

"RJ?" Heather's voice was soft, hesitant, but it ignited a spark of fury in him.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he snapped, spinning to face her. The motion sent a bolt of pain lancing through his side, but he shoved it down, letting his anger mask the agony.

Heather blinked, startled by the venom in his tone. "I – I didn't mean – "

"You didn't mean?" RJ's laugh was cold, devoid of humour. "You didn't mean to almost get us killed? You were supposed to be keeping an eye out! Instead, you were glued to that damn phone!"

Heather flinched, her ears flattening. "I didn't know they'd come back! You said – "

"I said they could come back!" RJ barked, his voice rising. "That's the whole point of being on lookout! But no, you were too busy texting your friends to do the one thing you were supposed to!"

His chest ached with each word, the pressure building like a vice. RJ's paw twitched, an involuntary reaction to the pain, but he quickly masked it by crossing his arms. His movements were measured, controlled – giving nothing away.

"Hey, back off!" Stella snapped, stepping forward. "She made a mistake, RJ, but you don't get to scream at her like this!"

RJ turned on her, his anger rising further. "Oh, really? Because I'm the only one who seems to care that she almost got us all caught? But then again, we wouldn't have had to worry about them coming back if you weren't wasting time earlier!"

"Watch it!" Stella's voice was a growl now, her eyes flashing. "I'm not the one who almost got kicked into next week because I rushed in without thinking!"

RJ's jaw tightened, his breaths slow and deliberate. "At least I did something," he snapped. "What did you do, Stella? Stand there? Wait for someone else to fix it?"

"RJ, that's enough," Verne cut in, his voice calm but firm. "Yelling at her isn't going to fix anything."

RJ turned on him, his anger blazing. "Oh, great. Yeah, you jump in and defend her too. What if one of us had been killed!"

"That's not fair!" Heather's voice cracked, her hands balling into fists. "I didn't mean for this to happen!"

"Fair? You think any of this is fair?" RJ's voice dropped, ice-cold and venomous. "You almost got us caught because you were more concerned with your damn little secret."

Heather's eyes widened in shock. "I don't have secrets!"

RJ scoffed, stepping closer, his voice low and dangerous. "Don't lie. I know what you've been hiding from your dad. You're not half as clever as you think you are, Heather."

"Stop it!" Ozzie's growl rumbled as he stepped forward, his fists clenched. "That's enough, RJ. You don't get to talk to my daughter like that."

RJ turned his glare on Ozzie, his tone cutting. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Ozzie. But maybe if you paid more attention to what's going on the real world, she wouldn't feel the need to screw around behind your back."

"Don't you dare talk to me like that," Ozzie snapped, stepping closer. "Acting like you're perfect, like you've never made a mistake in your like!"

"Maybe because I'm the only one who understands how important this is!" RJ shouted, his chest heaving with the effort. The pressure on his ribs was unbearable, but he refused to let it show. "Every single time one of you screws up, I'm the one who has to fix it! I'm the one who has to – "

"Stop pretending you're the only one who cares!" Ozzie's voice thundered as he stepped into RJ's space. "You don't get to stand there and act like you're better than the rest of is. You're not."

RJ's eyes narrowed, his voice dropping dangerously low. "And what are you going to do about it?"

Ozzie's fist flew, his anger boiling over in a single, wild punch. RJ's reflexes saved him, his paw deflecting the blow just in time, but the movement sent a white-hot spike of pain through his chest. He staggered slightly, his breath hitching for half a second before he straightened, his glare unwavering.

"Don't start something you cant finish," RJ growled, his voice cold and steady despite the storm raging inside him.

Ozzie stepped forward again, fury radiating off him, but Verne and Lou grabbed his arms, holding him back. "Let me go!" Ozzie snapped, his chest heaving. "I'm not telling him talk to her like that!"

RJ didn't wait for another outburst. He turned on his heel, stalking toward the woods. Each step was torture, his ribs screaming in protest, but his movements remained steady, deliberate. His paw twitched toward his chest as if the cradle the pain but stopped short.

"RJ" Verne called after him, but he didn't look back.

The clearing fell into silence, broken only by Heather's soft, trembling voice.

"This is all my fault,"

Ozzie shook free of Verne and Lou's hold, still glaring after RJ. "No, it's not," he muttered, but the anger hadn't left his voice.

RJ clenched his fists, the anger rising again. But it wasn't anger at them – it was anger at himself. At the way he had lashed out at Heather, at Ozzie. He'd seen Heather's tears, the way her shoulders had hunched under the weight of his words. And Ozzie… Ozzie had been ready to fight for his daughter, even if it meant coming to blows.

RJ stumbled, his paw catching the rough bark of a tree for balance. He hadn't even realised how far he'd walked, but the clearing was long behind him now. The forest stretched out in front of him, dark and endless, the moonlight barely penetrating the canopy above.

The pain hit him again, sharp and unrelenting, but time it was worse. A deep, wrenching spasm tore through his chest, and he doubled over, clutching as his ribs as a cough racked his body. It stared as a dry, hacking sound, but quickly turned wet. He gagged, chocking on the metallic tang rising in his throat.

"No," he whispered hoarsely, his voice trembling. "Not now… not now."

His body betrayed him. He dropped to his knees, gripping the dirt beneath him as his stomach heaved. The sound that escaped him was a broken, guttural choke, a sound of pure helplessness. Blood spilled from his mouth, thick and dark, splattering the ground in front of him. His body convulsed again, forcing up more, his ribs screaming with each violent retch.

Tears burned his eyes, but he didn't wipe them away. He couldn't. His whole-body shook, his paws trembling as they pressed into the dirt, grounding him against the storm raging inside him. The coppery taste filled his mouth, the blood staining his fur as more dripped from his lips.

The forest seemed to close in around him, silent and unyielding. He was alone here. Finally, truly alone. The mask he'd word for so long, the bravado he'd clung to – it was all gone. He couldn't hide anymore. Not from himself. Not from the pain.

His breaths cam in shallow gasps, each one a jagged blade cutting into his chest. He tried to force himself upright, but his body refused to obey. The agony was too much, too consuming. He stayed there, hunched over, staring at the blood pooling beneath hm. It was just this injury. It wasn't just the cancer. It was everything. Every mistake he'd made, every person he'd hurt. It was all crashing down on him.

"You deserve this," he whispered, his voice barely audible. It cracked halfway through, breaking under the weight of his guilt. "You deserve all of it."

He pushed himself to his feet slowly, his legs trembling beneath him. His paw wiped at his mouth, smearing blood across his fur. His ribs protested every movement, a dull, relentless ache that spread through his entire chest. He looked up at the stars, their cold light indifferent to his pain. He didn't know where to go. He didn't know if he even wanted to go anywhere.

But then the thought came to him, unbidden and heavy. His breath hitched. Maybe that was the only place he would ever truly belong. The place where he became this person, who only hurt the people he cared about.

You don't deserve better, he thought bitterly. You don't deserve them. You only deserve him.

He let out a shuddering breath, his paw brushing against a tree for balance. He didn't know if he had the strength to make it, but it didn't matter. He didn't care what this visit would cost him, emotionally or mentally. He deserved this.

RJ took a step forward, his body screaming at him to stop. Each breath rattled in his throat, every movement a reminder of just how broken he was. But he kept going. The forest stretched out before him, cold and silent, the darkness swallowing him whole.

I really didn't like writing this one, with how RJ treated everyone!

What's Heather hiding? Where is RJ going? Will he ever come back?