That night rolled drowsily by. Gerald and Michelle were fatigued, but filled with gratitude. Nothing but weary smiles on their faces as they tucked their children in. Nikki drifted to sleep during the drive. Terrence was exhausted, but too wired to acquiesce to slumber. He sat up, a red-eyed gaze fixed to his bedroom window.

  His dad lingered before bidding him goodnight. “… Sure you’re okay? Wanna talk about anything?”

  Terrence hesitantly shook his head. He wanted to nod, mind swimming with too many thoughts, but the things he wanted to talk about pained him to address.

  “Alright,” Gerald yawned. He turned to go to his own bed when he stopped. “… If you wanna sleep with the light on, that’s okay.”

  Terrence nodded. He hadn’t slept with the light on since he was a toddler, but wouldn’t mind tonight. “Thanks.” He mumbled.

  “I love you, son.” Gerald tousled his headfur. “Goodnight.”

  “Love you too, Dad.” Terrence felt a pang in his heart and looked up at him. “I-I’m sorry… about everything… about leaving the tent...”

  Gerald knelt beside him and looked him in the eyes. “I forgive you, buddy… we’re just happy you’re back.”

  There was one last hug before Gerald went to bed. He left Terrence’s door ajar and the light on. Terrence was alone; the only sound in his room was the spinning ceiling fan over his bed.

  Time faded into a nebulous reality as Terrence stared out his window. Even with the light on, the outside world was visible. Should a blue beam of light shoot up into the sky, he wouldn’t miss it. Or, maybe Malcolm made it back after Terrence and his family left Lake Dorson and was seeking a new home? At various points throughout the night, he’d get up and look out the kitchen window. Maybe Malcolm would be walking down his street?

  He watched… waited… watched… waited…

  Midnight became one o’ clock… which became two o’ clock…

  His eyes grew heavier…

  No blue light or Malcolm. His tail would wag at the sight of an errant pedestrian, only to realize it was nobody he knew.

  Three o’ clock… Four… Five…

  A touch of blue and gray dabbed the eastern horizon. One by one, street lights flickered off and birds chirped a new song to herald a fresh day. When Michelle woke up and went to start the coffee, she discovered Terrence sleeping on the table. His body was pointed toward the window as though he’d been keeping guard, but drifted off. She scooped him into her arms and laid him in his own bed. With a light kiss on his forehead, she bid him peaceful dreams and left, quietly closing his door.

  -

  For every sleepless night Terrence waded through. the deeper into the throes of despair he sunk. No blue beams of light. No Malcolm. No sign the hero triumphed over the villain. Gerald ambled to the kitchen one night for water and was greeted to the sight of his crestfallen son staring outside.

  Gerald stood by him. “What’s wrong?”

  “D-did…” Terrence stammered. “did you see any blue lights o-or a Weavile l-lately? Like, outside?”

  “I haven’t; I’m sorry. What’s his name?”

  “Malcolm… I… I just… h-he helped us… He wanted to come to Earth too…” He sniffled, averting his gaze in shame.

  Gerald nodded. This had to be the ‘Mr. Malcolm’ Nikki referred to when the Cinderace talked to her. He put a comforting hand on his back. “I’m sure he’ll make it soon.”

  “Th-they…” Terrence’s face reddened as he started to cry. “caught him a-and they’re g-gonna kill him if he doesn’t escape...”

  Gerald’s ears drooped; no answer finding purchase in his voice aside from an airy platitude. He picked his son up into a hug. “He’ll find a way, Terrence.”

  Terrence fettered his tongue before an admission of guilt could tumble out. No matter how much the incriminating malignance chewed him up from the inside, there was no reason to tell anyone.

  “Try to go to sleep,” his father said. “And we’ll pray for your friend, alright?”

  Terrence nodded and turned to go to his room. He stopped before taking a step, remembering wanting to ask something.

  “Dad?”

  “Yes?”

  “I, uh, had a question. Forgot to ask earlier…”

  “Sure, what is it?” Gerald flicked on the light and sat at the table; his son taking the seat beside him. Terrence asked about the verse on the pedestal. He forgot the address, but remembered it had words like ‘ruler,’ ‘terror,’ and ‘good works,’ and mentioned doing good. Gerald thought for several seconds before realizing what Terrence was talking about. He went to retrieve his Bible and came back.

  “This one?” He flipped it open. “That’s Romans… here?… Yeah, this chapter.” Gerald turned it towards him, finger poised over chapter thirteen, verse three. “This is?”

  Terrence looked it over. “Yeah.”

  Gerald was intrigued that his son somehow came across this verse, but that was a question for another time. “It’s saying how God intended rulers to reward and protect people who do good, as well as punish people who do evil. We have police and people in government for that reason; they’re supposed to encourage good and punish bad people.”

  Terrence became locked in cognitive dissonance. “Dad?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “What if…” He stuttered. “The ruler’s bad and punishes good people?”

  “Well, sadly, that happens too.” His father answered. “There’re a lot of rulers who don’t do what God wants… This about Malcolm?”

  Terrence nodded. “H-he was a hero… but they…” His voice faltered; Gerald putting an encouraging hand on his back. “… They- the rulers told everyone he was evil so the real bad guy could get away with his crimes, and then th-they caught him so they could… they could k-kill him… W-we couldn’t do anything because the bad guys were the rulers; the president hurt people and blamed Malcolm...” His voice was a pitiful mumble. His father was taken in stunned silence; did his kids really get involved in some worldwide drama? Was this why the portals were closed? His son continued. “I-I wanted to help… He helped us get home, b-but I couldn’t help him… it’s my fault he was caught...”

  Gerald was struck dumb as he picked his son up again, seeing him about to cry. There had to have been more to the story, but Terrence could talk about it when he was ready. “Hey… I don’t know what you went through, but it sounds really complicated. Whatever you and Malcolm did... you tried very hard to make it and, who knows? Malcolm could be okay.”

  “… His knee was hurt and he couldn’t walk anymore… He can’t run away...”

  Gerald shook his head. “Don’t give up hope. I don’t know what else to say, and I wish I could say Malcolm’ll make it. Even if he doesn’t though, don’t beat yourself up. If the rulers were all villains, winning would’ve been very hard for you. You were all in a very difficult situation.”

  Terrence couldn’t look up, his eyes watering. The contrition eating him from inside festered until it leapt out. “...No… it IS my fault… Malcolm grew that portal and… and… I wasted it when I fell through… Malcolm was so close, but I ruined it… I-I’m not a hero or a good guy… I’m bad...”

  Come on, you didn’t mean it-” Gerald started, but his words were white noise.

  Choking silence enveloped Gerald as his son buried his face into the seat cushion and cried. Words were of no use; Terrence was too engulfed in guilt for consolation. The best Gerald could do was sit here with him. This didn’t stop him from assuring him he was not a villain. He loved Terrence and wouldn’t trade being his dad for anything in the world. Terrence had no reply, crying until his eyes ran dry from exhaustion. Gerald scooped up his defeated son; the distressed fox falling asleep after his dad laid him in his own bed.

  -

  Moribund, Malcolm sat hunched in a drab, unlit cell. A flickering ceiling light down the hall seeped across the graveled floor, grazing his feet in opaque warmth. A metallic brace clamped his muzzle shut; it was strapped so tight the leather strip near his eyes dug into his skin. His wrists and ankles were bound with the same kind of metal. The ankle bindings weren’t terribly useful; he couldn’t walk regardless. Even twitching his left leg would cause searing pain to tear through it.

  He waited for the inevitable; his mind fixated itself on muddled prayers and supplications. Best not to focus on his own fate. His family… Terrence… Nikki… They’d find out what happened to him once the portals reopened. They would be hurt more than any pain Rutger could cause him. The 2,000-volt shock would send his soul beyond the stars in a blinding flash. The shock to his family and the siblings would last the rest of their lives.

  Terrence would be hit much harder than Malcolm wished. The agonized sorrow in his face was the last Malcolm saw of him.

  “God, comfort his soul too...”

  His ears perked up. Muffled, indiscernible shouts reverberated through the hallway. Whose voices were those? The bolted door impeding their yells made it difficult, though one of them was definitely Rutger. It persisted for several minutes. No doubt this was about Malcolm… for better or worse.

  Silence replaced the contention. Muted footfalls stormed away...

  A click resounded through the hall. A beep… a latch slid against a steel shaft… another click. Warm, white light flooded into the hall as the cell block door swung open.

  “This way.” An unfamiliar voice.

  Approaching footsteps.

  -

  A month after returning home

  Michelle and her son spent the better part of an hour walking the aisles of Kaylen’s Bargain Market for some of this month’s groceries. She typically got this done in half the time, but wanted her son to stop spending his days cooped up in his room. He never went anywhere except of necessity and, whenever his sister asked him to play with her, he ignored her. His friends eventually gave up on him as he stopped calling them or hanging out with them. He didn’t care. He deserved no friends. Villains didn’t deserve happiness.

  Terrence said little as the shopping cart filled up. At most, he uttered an incomprehensible grunt when she would ask him anything. Michelle wanted to cry, seeing him like this, but kept her composure.

  Healing would take time.

  “Well, that about does it.” She announced as Terrence plopped the bag of tomatoes onto the carton of eggs. “Thanks for helping me today.” She smiled and affectionately patted his head.

  Another sullen grunt.

  They stood at the back of a line stretching into the kitchenware aisle. Only two registers open and two dozen customers to ring up. Annoying on any other day, but Michelle was in no rush.

  “So, Terrence,” she started. “we were thinking this weekend about going to that new theme park. It’s a… Dave’s Crazy JungleLand, I think? Looks like something you’d enjoy-”

  A different voice further up the line made his ears perk. Just loud enough for him to notice.

  “Hey... that the portal kid? ‘e prolly knows.”

  Terrence shot an alarmed gaze toward the source of the voice. The Electabuzz cashier nodded his direction. The customer he was tending to, a Flaafy, also looked his way.

  Other eyes stared his way too. Formerly absorbed in just paying and leaving quickly, it wasn’t long before half the store realized the ‘portal kid’ was in their midst. The weight of their stares crushed him…

  … as though accusing. They knew.

  Mind blank, Terrence bolted out the door, almost knocking over incoming customers. Head down, nerves fraught. The voice of his mother calling after him was drowned out by the blood coursing through his temples. Didn’t matter where he ran, so long as no one was there to heap burning scorn onto him, deserved as it was. He wished another portal would open and swallow him up.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  And take him far, far away...

  An hour later, his mother found him sobbing under a dumpster after combing the streets with frayed nerves.

  “Terrence!” A touch of heartbreak and anger in her voice when she spotted him; why would he run like this again? Her indignation subsided in part when Terrence crawled out.

  “… I’m sorry…” He wiped his eyes.

  Michelle gathered him into her arms; her frown melted away with a low sigh. “It’s okay… it’s okay...”

  Healing was going to take time.

  -

  Malcolm waited with bated breath. The footfalls drew nearer.

  “Thank you…” Another voice. Feeble, shaking; strained as though having exerted all energy exerting his authority. Malcolm would’ve gone agape if not for the brace. His eyes moistened, glued to the cell door. It would soon open.

  President Banks was here.

  -

  A warm, Friday afternoon. Gerald let out a tired moan as his fingers clicked across the keyboard. The wont of caffeine normally struck this time of day, but no amount of coffee would scratch the surface of his fatigue. Terrence kept him up nearly every night, insisting he couldn’t sleep. Not only did he need to watch for Malcolm, he refused to rest his head. His dreams typically ensnared him in worlds where gryphons gobbled him up, metallic spheres absorbed him and locked him inside, and...

  … Malcolm was left to die.

  Every day, he and his wife assured Terrence he was no villain, but it always fell on deaf ears. He wallowed in guilt heavy enough to make them think he’d driven a dagger through Malcolm’s heart. They knew this would take grace and longsuffering, but his pain hurt them no less.

  Gerald shook his head sporadically as though warding off sleep and disturbing thoughts. It was challenging to write his report when his mind went dark places. How far down would Terrence’s life go? Unwilling to sleep, play, or even eat for a whole month now. Terrence returned from Revaria as gaunt as a twig and had put on no weight since. He hardly tasted anything for weeks; submitting to hunger only when pushed to the limit. He’d sometimes ask if his experiences could’ve just been dreams. Maybe the pike that night had a rare fish disease? Obvious wishful thinking, but Gerald couldn’t blame his son for thinking it could’ve all been a nightmare. It pained him to counter his son. Fish-induced nightmares would’ve been preferable.

  His eyes caught the time in the corner. Almost 2:00. With a subdued exhale, he continued the earnings report. The deadline wasn’t going to wait. He emailed the finished report at 1:57 and started praying for his son right after. His face was buried in his hands and his eyes shut.

  A call at 1:59 interrupted him.

  A nervous gulp as he reached for his desk phone. Did he submit a sloppily rushed report and incur his boss’ ire? A quick scan of the call screen…

  … Unfamiliar number? His pulse slowed and he hit the speaker button.

  “Hello. Gerald McLean, Foundry Accounting. Who am I speaking with, and how may I help you?”

  A brief conversation with the stranger followed, but it was one Gerald would never forget. They talked for a few minutes, but it was enough to pump life back into the beleaguered father. After he bid goodbye, he squinted a bit of moisture from his eyes and resumed work.

  -

  Terrence was nudged awake the next day at noon. He groggily swiped at the intruder transporting him to conscious life against his will. Three hours of sleep wasn’t enough.

  “Dad!” He growled, eyelids half-shut, then laid his head back onto his pillow.

  “Up; we have a visitor coming in an hour.” Gerald nudged him again. “I want you showered and looking nice when they arrive.”

  The undulating monotone of running bath water, accompanied with Nikki’s tone-deaf singing, made him sit up. Disoriented, he couldn’t put together why she was washing up at this time of the day. “Dad?”

  “Nikki’s almost done; you’re next.”

  Terrence grunted as he chucked his pillow off his bed. “Why do I have to? Why’s someone coming? Who even is it?!”

  Gerald kept his voice casual and face straight. “They’re coming to see you and Nikki. Look at you, your fur’s as messy as a ragged mop. You want ‘em to see you like that?”

  Terrence snarled. He wanted to torch whoever this visitor was; it was like they didn’t care he was tired and needed to rest up for another long night. Begrudgingly, he slipped out of bed and waited his turn. Nikki belted out her tune with unmitigated gusto, not caring for anyone else’s ears.

  “Busy, buzzy little bees!

  Buzzing all around my knees!”

  “HURRY UP!” Terrence barked.

  “Be nice.” His mom, helping Nikki bathe, rebuked. The water was soon reduced to a trickle as Michelle turned it off.

  “Sowwy! I’m done now!” Nikki said.

  Nikki emerged from the bathroom five minutes later, dry, and rubber Riley toy in hand. Her mother followed. Terrence sheepishly apologized for yelling before going into the bathroom and closing the door. The water was turned back on. Terrence grumbled as he stepped into the tub, though his mood improved a little as the water coursed over his dirty skin and fur. Gritted teeth melted into a mere, irritated frown. Unless this visitor had something important to say, he’d hop straight back into bed. After soaping himself. a blip of hope told him this had to do with Malcolm. Dad’s deliberate ambiguity always resulted in welcome surprises…

  … though he’d been fooled before.

  The pounding behind the wall… a gryphon.

  The plethora of pill containers… none of them for pain.

  An adventure to prove his heroism… he was a hindrance.

  All he could do was wait. Distracted and straddling the line between ease and dread, he took another half-hour to finish. Once out, he went to watch the window by the front door. Nikki played in her room while singing to herself. She wouldn’t rush the visitor; they’d get here when they were ready.

  Gerald and Michelle watched their son from their table. A light smile crossed their faces, watching his tail wag.

  Minutes ticked. The errant car whizzed by. Terrence’s nerves tensed.

  When was the visitor getting here?!

  His eyes flicked intermittently from window to clock a number of times he cared not to count. “Dad? When’re they-”

  A modest, boxy, off-white car approached from the left end of the street and pulled into their driveway. The sun’s reflection glinted off the window, shielding the visitor from view. Terrence squinted for a better look… His heart raced. Who was it?!

  The engine shut off.

  The door swung open. The visitor’s face moved from behind the glaring light as he swung his legs over to step out.

  Terrence went agape, paws over his mouth in quiet disbelief. This visit wasn’t about Malcolm…

  … It was Malcolm.

  “NIKKI! NIKKI!” He bolted to her room, almost grabbing her by the nape of her neck to pull her away.

  “Ow! What-?”

  “IT’S MALCOLM!”

  The two foxes skidded across the tiled foyer, nearly banging their faces into a wall. Gerald winked at his wife and calmly walked to the door. Michelle stood in anticipation of greeting their guest of honor.

  Terrence and Nikki crowded the door, tails swishing excitedly as their father slowly opened it. They stepped back just enough to avoid being hit, but as soon as there was space, the Fennekins zipped out to the driveway.

  “MISTER MALCOLM!” Nikki squealed, running towards the Weavile.

  “Nikki... Terrence.” Malcolm stooped, letting Nikki jump into his arms like an overexcited puppy. The absence of a backpack was jarring, but very welcome.

  Terrence couldn’t believe his eyes. He stood before the scientist and froze. Despite letting Malcolm down at every turn, he survived. Moreso… he was relieved to see Terrence? As it was back in the shed, and as it was now, there was no trace of bitterness or betrayal.

  Only gratitude.

  The crushing burden lifted away from Terrence’s spirit; his amalgamation of emotions sent him into a mess of overjoyed tears.

  -

  The McLeans welcomed Malcolm at their table; he gratefully accepted a glass of water, but that was all. The children sat on either side of him; Terrence fidgeted, afraid he’d wake up. He’d dreamed four times over the month that Malcolm was safe, only for his eyes to open against the caustic glare of the midday sun.

  After their mother managed to get her children to calm down, they asked Malcolm about who he was and all that happened. Gerald was told some things during the phone call, but wanted to know more. Malcolm, as clearly and concisely as he could, exposited who he was, the pandemic, Rutger, fleeing to the cave, and rescuing the children. Michelle clutched a worried hand to her chest hearing about the gryphon. Nikki and Terrence had already alluded to it, but it was no less terrifying the third time. Malcolm went on to relate different details of their journey, mentioning Nikki’s unabashed optimism and Terrence’s constant willingness to help. The circumstances of the journey made that difficult, but he appreciated Terrence’s attitude. The Fennekin looked down nervously. At some point, Malcolm would have to cancel out Terrence’s heroic comportment with all the times he messed up. As soon as Malcolm described how the portals worked, the parents put together why Terrence blamed himself harshly for Malcolm’s capture. Gerald put a hand on his son’s shoulder.

  “Everything was horrible timing,” Malcolm reiterated, taking a drink as his throat was drying out from all the explaining. “That Rutger took power just before I sent the emails, or how the Ariadoses attacked me as I waited for the portal to form, or how if I’d just set the portal to grow in a different part of the forest, Terrence and Nikki wouldn’t have been dragged into this mess.” He looked Terrence and Nikki in the eyes. “I am sorry you two got tangled up in this whole mess. I know you blame yourself, Terrence, but I’m the one who planted the portal where I did. I brought you and your sister into all that unnecessary danger. Forgive me?”

  Terrence was taken aback. Malcolm was a hero; heroes don’t apologize! “I, uh, yeah? But I should be sorry…”

  “Everyone made a mistake.” Malcolm nodded. “But no one meant any of it… mistakes happen. If you were thinking of asking for it; yes, I forgive you… But... forgive yourself too.”

  Terrence groaned and looked away in shame. He couldn’t bring himself to do that, at least not now.

  Malcolm went on to conclude his story. He was captured, sat in a dark cell for days, suffered passively through a sham trial filled with slander, returned to his cell to await death, and finally set free by President Banks.

  “He said he had a gut feeling I was innocent and finally stood up to Rutger. He also said that the pandemic was coming to an end and that if I was interested, he would reinstate me as head of the Department of Virology and Disease Control. Charges dropped, exonerated, as if nothing happened. I was very grateful he trusted me and saved me from the chair… but I don’t think I want to set foot in Revaria ever again.”

  The others nodded. They wouldn’t want to either.

  “Banks understood too. He wasn’t happy about my choice, but still offered to help me however he could. I asked simply for pain pills, food and water for a week’s travel, and to be taken back to where I was caught. He asked why I’d need such things; all I said was I had some traveling to do. I may’ve had executive impunity, but that wasn’t going to stop zealous vigilantes. I wanted to leave in secret.”

  Another somber nod. Tragic that Malcolm would be forever stained as a villain in the minds of most Revarians, but at least he got to live and be reunited with his family.

  “I returned to the field for the seeds and made the trek back to the caves,” His attention focused on Terrence; a subtle smile formed on his face. “And it was there I noticed you left the vial and leftover flowers for me… Even then, you believed I might make it. Thank you.”

  Terrence blushed. “I-it was nothing.”

  “It may not’ve seemed like much, but it was. I know you wanted to help in big ways, but the little things you did mattered too. Heroes don’t need to do big things to be heroes. Sometimes, just showing someone you’re thinking of them is more than enough.”

  A glint shown in Terrence’s eyes. Not brightly, but enough to soothe him.

  Maybe he wasn’t the villain he made himself out to be.

  -

  Close to Halloween, the portals linking Earth and Revaria reopened. News of the pneumonavirus hit millions of ears for the first time. Loved ones were reunited. Long-time friends greeted each other for the first time in ages. It didn’t take long for news of the manhunt and the government to leak either. Banks was impeached for unlawfully granting another his authority. Many lambasted him for releasing Malcolm, while others like Bernard Cox, Bebe Jimenez, and Reuben lauded the decision. Rutger was imprisoned for treason, perjury, negligent mass homicide, fabricating data, and several murder charges when questioned about the damning emails. Nobody knew Leticia’s whereabouts, but the righteous anger surrounding her died off over the years. The public criticized congress for acting slowly and letting this happen at all. Rebuilding was going to be arduous, but with the virus taken care of, they could at least start.

  -

  Halloween night hung ominously over the McLean’s block. Children dressed up as pirates, cowboys, zombies, and everything in-between. The atmosphere simmered with excitement; an evening crammed with candied confections, parties, and pranks awaited.

  No one was more thrilled than Nikki as she proudly donned her Riley costume.

  “Can we go now can we go now can we go now?!” She beamed, bouncing as excitedly as a hyperactive squirrel on caffeine.

  “Your brother’s almost ready.” Her father brushed a fleck of lint off her enormous head. Her mother held onto both children’s bags.

  Shuffling from Terrence’s room. “Gimme a minute!”

  Terrence stumbled out in his awkward costume to Nikki’s unrestrained glee. This was the best day of her life. “WE’W BOF WILEY!”

  “… Yep!” His muffled voice trotted out from behind the mesh meant to be Riley’s mouth.

  “This is sweet!” Michelle set the bags down. “Let me get a picture before we go.”

  Terrence rolled his eyes. “Hope you don’t show it-”

  “Don’t worry, it’s just for us.” His father assured. Michelle got their picture… two of them, actually. They were free to go after the photoshoot; Gerald and Michelle having to tell them repeatedly to slow down. It was the best Halloween Terrence and Nikki ever had.

  Not that Terrence loved his costume or was overly concerned his friends would mock him (as if they’d recognize him behind the giant mask), but that he was happy to make Nikki’s day. Even if she’d forgotten about his promise to dress as Riley, he would’ve done it anyways. It showed heroes don’t always wear capes and fly squealing damsels to safety.

  Sometimes, they just dressed like cartoon raccoons.

  THE END