Zig Zag is Copyright © Max Black Rabbit. Sabrina, Darke Katt and R.C. are Copyright © Eric W. Schwartz. James Sheppard, Marvin Badger, Rhonda Badger, Yohni, Alexi, Michael, Esteban, Mia, Wanda Vixen and Tamara Rabbit are Copyright © James Bruner. Alex O'Whitt is © Tigermark. The B-Team is © Silver Coyote. Jean LeBrun, Gabrielle Ryder, Timothy Bigglesworth-Farthington von Salzburg, Malcolm Grazer, Doctor Fox Jones, Peter Spermophilus, Miranda Spermophilus, Dina Spermophilus, Leo Leon, Miriam Redtail, Lizzy Doe, Emma Grey, Professor Moose Nicholson, Professor Erica Belge and Pethouse Magazine is © Joan Jacobsen, 2005. All other characters appearing in this story, except where otherwise specifically noted, are likewise © Joan Jacobsen.

Legal Notice: This story is Copyright © 2005 by Joan Jacobsen. This story may not be sold or used for commercial profit in any form or fashion. This story may not be modified in any way. This story may not be posted on a mirror site or any other Internet site without the written permission of the author. This story may not be distributed on print, magnetic, electrical or optical mediums.

Permission to use characters that are Copyright other individuals was obtained prior to the appearance of said characters.

The author, Joan Jacobsen, hereby asserts moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is an independent work of fiction with no connection whatsoever to Max Black Rabbit, Eric W. Schwartz, E.S. Productions or James Bruner and is in no way meant to imply any connection with Max Black Rabbit, Eric W. Schwartz, E.S. Productions, or James Bruner. This story contains characters created by Max Black Rabbit, Eric W. Schwartz, James Bruner, Tigermark and Silver Coyote. Events and characters occurring in this story should not be considered part of the storylines for either 'Zig Zag', 'Sabrina Online' or 'Sabrina Online - The Story'.

In fact, as far as 'Zig Zag', 'Sabrina Online', 'Sabrina Online - The Story' and 'Zig Zag the Story' are concerned, this story does not exist. The artists disavow any knowledge of and do not officially sanction the events in this story.er nodded. "I'm sure."

Dawn Patrol

Lizzy was sitting at the kitchen table. It was very late evening, and she was nursing her fifth cup of tea. She'd hoped it would help make her tired. It hadn't worked. Emma was fast asleep in the living room. Fortunately, futon-couches were meant to be used as beds, so it wasn't uncomfortable for the mink. Lizzy didn't see any reason to wake her friend, although she would have appreciated some company. There were a lot of thoughts going through her head. Many of them, she didn't quite know how to deal with.

In a way, she found it ironic. Both Jean and Gabrielle had gone through terrible ordeals with their parents, each in their way. Neither of them had been the cause of it, themselves. As for herself, however, she was the only reason why she had no contact with her parents anymore. Her choices had done that. Bad choices. It was not difficult to see, nor was it difficult to admit to herself...but it was terribly hard to talk to others about it.

Yet she had done so, hadn't she?

She'd spoken to Emma, and laid the cards on the table, and she had written to Leo about it, too. For some reason, she wasn't sure if she should feel like a creep for sending him that kind of letter as he was shipping out. Wasn't honesty the best recourse, though? Leo wasn't so shallow that he'd prefer a mushy, sugar-and-sweetness letter from her. For one thing, he'd instantly know she was covering something up if he got that.

So what was the situation? For all she knew, there was a letter from Leo in the post, saying he'd never want to lay eyes on her again when he came home. Somehow...she doubted it though. She loved the lion and...she felt confident that the reverse was true as well. There was no doubt in her mind that their feelings for each other were strong enough to overcome this. Yet, she couldn't shake the guilty conscience she struggled with. Not completely anyway. She should have told him all this much earlier.

Nonetheless, she hadn't.

'Should have' was rather cliché.

She sipped her tea again and rubbed her nose, looking into the golden liquid in the cup. She swirled it a little and tried to get her thoughts straight.

Where was Leo right now? She didn't know, and that was probably the worst part of the whole damned business. For all she knew, he was fighting for his life. Or he could be sound asleep, the last few moments before waking up for another day's routine duties.

Lizzy poured herself yet another cup of tea and rubbed her face, wearily. She wanted to go to bed, but she knew it'd be pointless to try to sleep. She'd be tossing and turning all night if she didn't find some peace of mind first. The problem was what to do? Simply sit there, all night, not knowing if she should feel miserable for herself, or angry? Or come up with some way of feeling better.

One thing occurred to her. While Leo might not leave her, she didn't know how his parents would react. She would have to talk to him about whether to let them in on it or not. She didn't like lying to the Leon's. They were kind furs who had shown her all the good will one could possibly hope for. Even if they were a pair of capitalistic, bourgeois furs. She could even forgive them for voting Republican.

It was hard for her to think of any more heartfelt way of showing that she liked them. She didn't agree with them, politically, on almost every issue but as long as politics and money were left out of conversations, they were wonderful furs.

How about her own parents? Wasn't that really where it all led back, in the end?

They wouldn't know of her, anyway, she reminded herself and finished the tea. Shrugging, she got to her feet and headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth, before going to bed.

###

Leo woke up and rubbed the top of his head, yawning. Reaching out to the side, he grabbed his combat fatigues, already laid out the previous evening. There would be no time for a bath. He took care of that the evening before, before going to sleep. Getting dressed, he felt like his eyes were full of sand and he kept yawning. Getting up early was fine. Getting up this early was bordering on a criminal act. At least that's how he felt about it.

He scratched his chest and pulled on his T-shirt, then his jacket. Double checking that his kali-tag was in place, he nodded to himself and strapped his pistol around his waist. Then he headed out.

Most of his troops were fast asleep and would remain so for another hour. One or two were on guard duty. Corporal Bock had kitchen detail, and saluted Leo sleepily as the lion walked past him.

"G'morning Sir," he muttered.

"You too, Corporal," Leo answered, continuing.

Outside, he jumped into a waiting Humvee, which sped across the camp towards two Armored Fur Carriers, already loading with troops.

Leo hopped out of his ride and nodded to the Lieutenant in charge of the patrol. He sized up the fur in front of him. A seedy looking canid who could probably track the first twenty bloodlines in the nearest family nodded back.

"You must be our artillery-observer, then," the canid said. His accent was so British that Leo found himself momentarily surprised. The canid smiled and extended a paw. "Lieutenant Leon, am I right?"

Leo shook the offered paw and nodded. "That's right. And your name, Lieutenant?"

"Richardson. First Lieutenant Douglas Richardson of The Prince of Wales's Own Regiment of Yorkshire...these filthy buggers call me Dawg," Lieutenant Richardson chuckled. "Ready for a spot of sightseeing in lovely Helmand, Lieutenant Leon?"

Despite himself, Leo felt a twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Damned, Gabrielle would instantly take to you," he commented, mostly to himself.

"Pardon?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just that I'm not used to being called Lef-tennant. Dawg, you say? That's almost excessively American?"

Lieutenant Richardson grinned widely. Leo noted the Englishfur had extremely crooked teeth. "Must be my flashy Hollywood appearance, wouldn't you agree?" he said and probably winked under what Leo presumed was an extremely bushy eyebrow. "Shall we proceed, Billy Yank?"

"Whatever you say, you limy git!" Leo grinned and shook his head, trying to keep a straight face.

Lieutenant Richardson chuckled and entered the AFC, beckoning for Leo to follow.

###

"Good morning, gorgeous."

"Mmm...keep that up, please. I enjoy it."

"Angling for compliments, are we?"

"Don't know about you, but I am, certainly."

"You're incorrigible, James," Zig Zag said and sat up in bed, reaching out sideways to scratch the coyote's chest idly.

James smiled languidly, his eyes only half open. "Are you in any hurry to get up?" he asked and ran a paw down Zig Zag's back in a gentle caress.

"Not really," the tigerstriped skunk replied with a smile of her own. "I just wanted to get a notepad. I had an idea, that's all..."

"Is this work-related, Zig?"

"Yeah. Sorry, I'll wait."

James nodded and opened his arms to let Zig Zag lay down with her head on his chest. A moment later, he was gently stroking her hair. It was one of those true Kodak moments in life...or would have been if he had been wearing pants. At least he was modest due to the quilt he had slept under. Looking sideways at the alarm clock, it said five thirty in the morning.

They had made a deal not to discuss business while they were there. In any way, shape or form. That, naturally, had to be modified slightly after the first half hour, since most of Zig Zag's life revolved around her Studio in some form or other. Besides, while James had never really found out how to deal with the kind of movies they made there, he couldn't possibly deny that he enjoyed the anecdotes and stories that Zig Zag told of what went on there. She prudently never told him anything too X-rated. She knew his limits and she had never once gone too far. Besides, he loved Zig Zag just the way she was. And it was a simple fact of life that without her studio, she wouldn't be Zig Zag at all.

If looked at that way around, he owed the ZZ Studio employees quite a debt of gratitude. Even though Zig Zag had 'created' them and given them their careers, they had doubtlessly also helped shape her into the femme he loved.

Who was this femme, resting her head on his chest, then? He had known her for years, yet he never doubted for a second, that he'd never learn all there was to know about her. He would still lay there at times, at night, waiting for her to fall asleep. Then he'd turn ever so slightly and just look at her peaceful, beautiful face as she dreamt. It was like looking at a piece of art.

Perhaps that was what Leonardo da Vinci had felt, as he sat down to paint his Mona Lisa. What Michelangelo had strived to bring out in his Pieta.

Love.

In it's purest sense.

"What was it?" he murmured.

"What was what?" Zig Zag answered, not opening her eyes. She looked content...

James smiled and brushed his fingers through the skunk's hair again. "What was your idea...that you needed to write down? I'll help you remember."

"Just an idea for that movie I told you I had come up with. Doubt I'll ever get around to making it though. I'll never get Jean to proofread another manuscript for me, in any case."

"Another history-piece?"

Zig Zag grinned, still not opening her eyes. "Sex is an important part of history. We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for historical sex, James..."

Trying hard to keep from laughing out loud, James tried to play it cool. "Weeell...I suppose there's some truth in that," he said, waving a paw around lazily, playing nonchalant. "So what period is this movie set in?"

"Didn't know you were so interested in the movies I make, James?" Zig Zag teased.

Despite himself, the coyote felt a blush rise to his cheeks. Somehow, Zig Zag had the ability to do that to him almost at will. He didn't dislike it. At first it had made him uncertain and slightly uncomfortable. Now, it had become part of their relationship. It was one of many ways she showed him affection and love. In her own, occasionally strange, way...

"I'm interested in you, and you can't be separated from your work, Zig," he said.

"Shush James...stop speaking so much and do something useful with your lips," Zig Zag chuckled.

James didn't have to be told twice. Kissing Zig Zag seemed like the best idea he'd heard of since...

Since...

Well, at least since last night.

So he did.

###

Lieutenant Richardson scratched his cheek and waited for the translator to finish talking to the locals. He wasn't quite sure he liked the situation. Something told him the news wouldn't be good. They had been on patrol for hours and hours. The patrol area was huge and covered several villages. Moreover, the topography of the area was such that the Taliban had plenty of places to lay in wait and perfect an ambush. It meant that the patrol had to stop constantly. Three times so far, Leo had called back to base to lay a barrage on some clump of rocks or a hillside. Whether they had hit anything was anyone's guess. At least once, Leo was sure he'd seen a couple of armed furs scurry away between the rocks when the explosions settled. At least, as sure as he could be, given the poor visibility. Everything was dusty.

Helmand province was one of the worst areas in Afghanistan. A lot of the locals were firmly on the side of the Taliban-guerrillas, and a lot of them showed it very openly. Those weren't dangerous. The dangerous ones were those who pretended they were friends of the coalition, only to lead them astray. Lieutenant Richardson had a bad feeling about the translator. On the other paw, the problem was that he couldn't go around suspecting everyone, or he'd go paranoid. All he could do was exercise caution.

The translator came back and shrugged.

"So...where are they?" the officer asked.

"Taliban in town," the translator explained. "Two houses. Many guns. Show you where."

Richardson nodded. He could smell a set up a mile away. "Middle of the village, I guess?"

"Yes."

"Damnation...ok, Lieutenant Leon, come over here please."

Leo stopped chatting with some of the English troops and nodded, jogging over to Lieutenant Richardson. "Yes? Anything I can do to help?"

"I doubt it. But I have to ask. Could you level a couple of identified buildings in this village without causing collateral damage, Lieutenant? You Yanks always brag about your big guns, after all."

Leo chuckled. He liked Richardson. Dry, rock steady and with a glint in his eye, he seemed like the kind of leader who could inspire confidence in his troops if things got ugly. He looked around the village. It consisted entirely of small, clay buildings, built very close to one another. It would certainly be possible to hit any given building, but in the process, at least three or four other houses would be leveled. He shook his head and looked at Lieutenant Richardson.

"In this case, bigger isn't better. If I shot a beebee-gun at one of these buildings, I'd level half the village."

Lieutenant Richardson simply nodded. "Damned...and double damned," he muttered. "I guess that means we have to do this the slow, meticulous way."

"Want me to sit back and not get in the way?"

"Do you know how to take a possible enemy strongpoint?"

"Yeah, sure I do...I level an M198 at it and EfE the place."

"EfE?"

"Eradicate from Existence."

"Just stay in the AFC, Yank...just stay in the AFC..."

###

Hantaywee turned off her cellphone and grinned widely at William. The mink smiled crookedly and nodded. They were seated outside the lecture hall, waiting for today's classes to start. Richard hadn't turned up yet.

"I take it they're interested?" William asked.

"Hell yeah!" the puma said, her smile growing even wider. "Trust me, they'll be calling Miss LeBrun to get her story."

William looked relieved. "That's good."

Hantaywee nodded and pulled her legs up under her on the chair. "No problem. It works when a couple of students speak up in defense of a teacher. She's going to get a chance to defend herself in the eye of the public. I'll bet you anything that those protesters don't think she has the guts to do this, or they would've already contacted the press themselves."

William was about to answer when Richard came walking down the hall. The canid waved to his friends and headed their way. William looked back at Hantaywee.

"I just have one problem..." he said, quietly.

"What's that?"

"Won't it look bad if we get a good grade on our paper now? I mean, we did Miss LeBrun a favor..."

Hantaywee shook her head. "No. She specifically told me, when she contacted me, that this would not affect the grading of the paper. She has also contacted Mrs. Belge about this, and informed her what she was going to do. She's played with open cards here. And I made the call anonymously. Besides, my cellphone is unregistered so even if the protesters got really bitchy, they wouldn't have much luck in finding out who made the call anyway. Besides, Newspapers protect their sources."

"Hey guys...what are you talking about? Ohh...ohhhh, you made that call? Did they buy it?" Richard asked as he sat down next to his friends.

Both William and Hantaywee nodded.

Richard leaned back and stretched his legs. "Excellent. Bleh...ready for some Nutkin fun, then?"

His friends both looked vaguely nauseated. He couldn't blame them. Nutkin was universally disliked by the students for his pompous behavior and his inability to enter into a constructive, academic debate with students, whom he openly considered inferior beings.

"What are we to be tortured with today?" William asked, despondently. "What horrors must we endure, in order for our respective minds to benefit from the infinite wisdom of Professor Nutkin?"

"You should've picked up poetry, Will," Hantaywee chuckled and checked her time-manager. "Let's see...today's going to be...oh goody...a four hour lecture on the theories of Hayden White..."

"He's NO relation of mine, I tell you!!" William protested, wildly.

Richard chuckled. "I believe you. I actually read today's material. I've never seen anything that stupid. He claims that it doesn't matter if Historians tell the truth, as long as we tell a good story. Seems he doesn't understand the concept that History isn't about telling 'The Truth', but about getting as close to it as possible."

Hantaywee groaned. "Hey, you have been paying attention in Ms. LeBrun's classes, after all! And if that's what Hayden White thinks, it's no wonder Nutkin likes him. It sounds like a load of pretentious, self important bullshit!"

"Nutkin can't tell a good story, though." Richard pointed out, dryly.

"Nutkin thinks Nutkin can tell a good story," William said, sounding like he was about to start bawling.

"Woe is us...poor, lamentable, tortured students. Woe, woe and double woe..." Hantaywee groaned.

William managed a crooked smile. "Will you be my muse if I start writing poetry, Hantaywee?"

Sighing in unision, the three friends sat there, in the hallway, counting down the seconds to four hours of intense boredom...

###

Leo was waiting in the AFC, along with the driver. He had a nasty feeling that something wasn't quite as it should be. It was impossible to put a finger on it, but looking at Lieutenant Richardson, he knew they shared the same worries.

The British troops had filed out and deployed in tactical column, before spreading out between the buildings. Leo could hear their communication on the intercom in the AFC. Everything still seemed to be going smoothly. He couldn't help thinking it was all too smooth.

"Sir, why are the streets empty?" one of them asked.

"Yeah. There should be furs taking care of their daily business, this time of day, Sir," another one chimed in.

There was a moment's silence. "I've noticed," Lieutenant Richardson's voice answered. "Exercise caution, furs. This smells like a set up to me."

"Agreed, this smells a mile away of an ambush. What are your orders, Sir?"

Leo assumed Lieutenant Richardson was about to answer, but before he managed to do so, all hell broke loose outside. There were sounds of small arms fire everywhere. Shouting and yelling as well. What struck Leo with admiration, however, was the calm with which the soldiers seemed to respond.

"Damned...sometimes I really hate sixth sense sensations," one of them growled before the rattling of his rifle on semi-automatic drowned out anything else said on the intercom.

"Sir, we've got hostiles everywhere. I don't know about those two buildings, Sir, but they are certainly everywhere else!"

Lieutenant Richardson's voice snapped in, calm and commanding. "Fall back towards the boarded up building. We cannot reach the AFC's until we've cleared some of this resistance."

"Sir, I've been hit!"

The calm of the pained voice shocked Leo back to reality. It was almost eerie. He blinked and looked at the driver. "Where's the boarded up building? Can you see it?" he asked.

The driver, a sleek looking persian feline, shook his head, but started searching for it immediately. "If it's among the other buildings, we can't get in there without leveling several buildings on the way."

Leo nodded. "Then DO so. Drive through it if you have to. Find the damned shack first though!"

"I can't drive through the housing, Sir. My orders are clear. No unnecessary destruction of property!"

"UNNECESSARY!?!?" Leo sputtered. "They're under fire out there!"

"Yes Sir, but unless Lieutenant Richardson gives the order, I can't drive through. We've got very strict orders from command about this!" the Persian said, looking like he wanted to personally shoot whomever issued the order in question.

"Fuck that!" Leo growled and spun around in the AFC, grabbing the intercom. "Lieutenant Richardson, are you there?"

The answer wasn't what Leo had hoped for. "This is Sergeant Martes. Lieutenant Richardson is down. I repeat, Lieutenant Richardson is down. Looks serious, Sir. We're in a lot of trouble in here."

Outside, a couple of explosions could be heard in rapid succession. The first sounded like a paw-grenade. The second was bigger and made Leo duck, despite being inside. There was a lot of small arms fire and shouting by now.

"Can you give me an estimate of the strength of the enemy, Sergeant?" Leo asked into the intercom, managing to speak calmly and clearly.

It took a moment before he got an answer. The rattling of small arms was picking up outside. An idea struck Leo, just as the Sergeant spoke up from the other end of the line.

"No fucking idea, Sir, pardon my language. They're everywhere around us. Could be twenty, could be a hundred. But they just took a shot at us with an RPG, sir. I sincerely hope you can get us out of this damned pickle, or else Downing Street's going to have to do a lot of explaining soon!"

Leo nodded. "We'll get you out, Sergeant. Get the wounded together!"

Then he terminated the transmission and looked at the driver. "It's no longer unnecessary. You have wounded, possibly dying furs in there and your Lieutenant is one of them. In his absence, and since this is a coalition force, I order you to drive through whatever huts you need to get to that building and get them out of there, CLEAR?"

"Yes Sir!!" the Persian replied just as Leo jumped out of the AFC. "Hey, where are you going, Sir?"

"To the other AFC. I'm getting us some heavy duty help while you get them out of there. Hurry up!" the lion answered.

He ducked and ran towards the other AFC, while the one he had just left turned and drove straight through the first clay building. The situation was surreal. Where he was, there was no shooting, but maybe a hundred yards away, furs were fighting for their lives. Was this what combat was like? No...surely not.

He growled and snapped the door open to the empty AFC, jumping inside it and grabbing the radio set.

"This is Second Lieutenant Leo Leon, requesting artillery barrage, fire concentration Theta, on my position," he snapped, into the radio.

A confused voice came back from the other end. "On...on your own position, Sir?"

"For God's sake...I don't have time to argue with you. First, second and third platoon stand by on my mark. I want this entire area turned into a CRATER, you hear me? The British have been ambushed. They walked into a prepared position...it's a damned Taliban redoubt out there. They're shooting from all angles. We have to cover the retreat. Now STOP arguing and zero in on my coordinates. On my order, fire for effect!"

"Yes Sir!"

Leo looked out to see if the British were returning, before growling into the radio. "Delay that order. Patch me through to Sergeant Pardinus."

The fur on the other end didn't even question the order. A few seconds later, the lynx reported in. Leo felt a sense of relief. He could trust Sergeant Pardinus.

"Sergeant, can you give me a crawling barrage if I give you very exact coordinates?" he asked, picking up the map from the radio table.

"Affirmative sir. High explosives?"

"Yes," Leo replied and read out a set of coordinates while looking out of the AFC again. "FIRE, Sergeant."

He terminated the transmission and looked outside. A few seconds passed. Just a few. Then he could hear the tell-tale whistle of incoming shells. The explosions were amazing up that close. Clay and plaster spiraled skywards. Screams of furs followed. Even at this distance, Leo could hear it.

The AFC came into view, backing out over the rubble it had created by leveling buildings. It spun around and came up next to Leo's empty AFC.

Leo looked at the rubble...shapes were moving in there. He held the up the radio to his mouth and growled. "This is Second Lieutenant Leo Leon. Execute my previous order. Zero in on my position in thirty seconds and level this place. Fire for effect!"

Twelve seconds later, the two AFC's were on the way out of the village. Twenty five seconds after that...the barrage hit.

Leo didn't see it. He was trying to assist the medic.