Jayson awakens with a start, his vision blurry and head pounding. Sterile white ceiling tiles come into focus above him, and the unmistakable antiseptic smell of a hospital fills his nostrils. The steady beep of a heart monitor matches his pulse, and natural sunlight shines through a dirty window. The curtain is pulled aside so Jayson can see the cracked sky and the numerous buildings of Bliss Town. Unfortunately, Jayson also hears the aggravated car horns and revving engines for the morning commute.

  "Good morning," says a familiar, monotone voice.

  Jayson turns his head and sees Mariana Cross standing beside his bed, her small lop-eared form dressed in blue hospital scrubs. She checks an IV drip, her permanently bored expression unchanged as she scribbles something on her clipboard.

  "Mariana?" croaks Jayson, his throat dry. "What... where am I? When did you become a nurse?"

  "Bliss County General Hospital, and I’ve always been a nurse. Just like I’ve always been a fast-food worker, a scrapper, a librarian, a bus driver, a dentist assistant. So on. By the way, you've been in and out for nearly two days,” says Mariana flatly.

  Jayson attempts to sit up, and winces as dull pain seeps through his body. It isn’t enough to be excruciating, but it is enough to be annoying.

  "Relax," says Mariana, pressing him back down. "Your body has had it rough. The adrenaline is gone, so now it feels everything."

  "Where's everyone else? Lexia? Derrick? What about Mortimer and Claribel?" asks Jayson.

  Mariana scribbles more notes into her clipboard as she checks Jayson’s vitals. "Lexia is down the hall with Claribel. Derrick is in intensive care. Nermal, Owen, Chipper, and Peter were discharged early on. Mortimer is in the burn unit."

  Jayson stares at her, his confusion giving way to anger. "Alright, next question. You knew about Ramsey and that factory, didn’t you?”

  “What makes you say that?” says Mariana.

  “You’re everywhere and I saw you stop time. So, you could have helped. I know you knew. I know you knew because I have a gut feeling that says you knew! And since you knew and can control time, that must mean you’re a goddess of time or something! So, why didn’t the goddess of time help when you knew-”

  Jayson’s voice is cut off by a hard shove of a palm to his mouth. Despite Mariana’s bored expression, her posture is rigid, her fingers tight against Jayson’s mouth, and her dull gray-blue eyes rapidly become cold, like a gem being dipped in liquid nitrogen. But worst of all, Jayson can feel raw power in her hand, like she is made up of pure, condensed energy.

  “I am not a goddess,” says Mariana. “I am cursed by God. And I didn’t help because every time I did, the resulting outcome was worse for yourselves and Bliss Town. By staying out of it, I ensured the best outcome."

  Mariana removes her hand, and Jayson stares at her, speechless.

  "You're welcome," says Mariana dryly, taking note of his blood pressure displayed on the monitor.

  The door swings open seconds later, and Lexia stands in the doorway, wearing a hospital gown that barely fits her frame. Her white and brown fur is clean, and fresh bandages wrap her injured hand. Dark circles rim her eyes, and she forces a smile.

  "About time you woke up, slacker!" exclaims Lexia.

  "Lexia!" Jayson tries to sit up again, ignoring the pain. "Are you okay?"

  "Just peachy. The others are in the waiting room. The doctors wouldn't let them all pile in here at once."

  Mariana finishes her notations and heads for the door. "I'll tell the doctor you're awake. Try not to do anything stupid in the next five minutes." She pauses at the threshold. "That means don't get out of bed, Jayson."

  After she leaves, Lexia plops down in the chair beside Jayson's bed. "Mariana gives me the creeps. Always staring like she knows exactly how you're going to die."

  "She probably does," says Jayson. He looks at Lexia more closely. Despite her brave front, he can see the subtle tremors in her hands. "Lexia, about what happened with Ramsey-"

  "Don't," says Lexia sharply. "It’s over, and I want to move on from that."

  The door opens again, and Nermal enters, followed by Owen, Chipper, and Peter. All of them sport various bandages and bruises, but they're standing and alive.

  "Well, look who's finally decided to join the land of the living," says Chipper with a crooked smile.

  "How're you feeling, kid?" asks Nermal.

  "Like I got run over by a truck, then the truck backed up and ran me over again," says Jayson with a weak smile.

  Peter hangs back by the door, arms crossed. "At least you’re doing well. The doctors say Derrick's going to need multiple surgeries. His wings are basically splinters in a meat bag.”

  A heavy silence falls over the room.

  "Were you guys tranqed, too?” asks Jayson a few seconds later.

  “Yeah. The hazmat guys were waiting for us by our vehicles. It was an ambush. They shot us, and we woke up in the hospital. But it is better than waking up without a kidney,” says Owen.

  "The news said a gas leak in caused the explosions and collapses in that old subdivision. But witnesses said a lot of hazmat guys were walking around our battlefield," says Chipper.

  "Definitely the federal government hiding something," says Nermal.

  Jayson and Lexia quietly look at each other out of the corner of their eyes.

  "Do any of you know what happened to Ramsey?" asks Jayson, looking back at the group of old rabbits.

  Nermal remains still, Owen shrugs, Peter scratches his ear, and Chipper shakes his head.

  "Sorry, there was no sure sign of him," says Nermal. "Just a lot of blood and a shriveled skeleton in a forest clearing. From what Lexia said, that could have been our guy since you hyper aged him."

  Jayson slumps back against his pillows. "Oh jeez…"

  Mariana pokes her head in. "Visiting hours are ending soon. The patient needs rest. And Lexia, You’re getting a gown that actually fits."

  “Nah, she's fine,” says Chipper, smiling.

  The group stares at him, and he looks at them, shrugging. The only one not holding a bemused look is Lexia.

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  “Oh, come on. Don’t act pious,” says Chipper.

  “Glad someone appreciates me,” says Lexia, smirking.

  “Well, let’s get out of here, anyway,” says Nermal. He looks at Jayson and Lexia. “You two, behave yourselves.”

  Jayson and Lexia nod, and after Nermal’s group files out, Jayson looks at Lexia.

  "Let's go check on Derrick," says Jayson, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The room spins briefly, but he steadies himself against the mattress.

  "Are you sure you should be up?" asks Lexia, her brow furrowed with genuine concern.

  "I'll be fine. Besides, I need to see him with my own eyes."

  Jayson holds the IV rack and winces as he stands on wobbly legs. He pushes a few buttons on the vitals monitors, changing the lines to a simple message that says “In Transit.”

  “How’d you know how to do that?” asks Lexia while Jayson carefully removes the sensors from his body.

  “I’ve been in this hospital a few times. I picked up a few things,” says Jayson.

  "Alright, but if Mariana catches you, she's going to be mad," warns Lexia even though she's already moving to help him.

  “Let her be mad.”

  Lexia has no response to that, so they make their way down the hallway, Lexia supporting Jayson with one arm. The hospital bustles with activity. Nurses rushing between rooms, orderlies pushing medication carts, visitors clutching flowers. The stench of antiseptic grows stronger as they approach the intensive care unit. They easily find Derrick’s room due to Bridgette Baggs standing outside, her head tilted towards the door in obvious eaves dropping.

  “Hey, I recognize you from the forest,” says Jayson.

  “Yeah, I was the lump that talked to you guys before all this went to crap in a hand basket,” says Bridgette.

  “She also saved me,” says Lexia.

  “That I did.”

  “So, is Derrick available?” asks Jayson.

  Bridgette shakes her head. “No, some weird ram is talking to him.”

  Jayson and Lexia rush into Derrick’s room and freeze in the doorway. Derrick lies in the hospital bed, his wings stretched, splinted and wrapped in thick bandages. Tubes and wires connect him to various machines that beep rhythmically. But it's the figure standing beside the bed that makes Jayson's blood run cold.

  Trafford turns, his red eyes gleaming with amusement. "Ah, Mr. Hopper, Ms. Hartwick. I was wondering when you'd join us."

  "What are you doing here?" growls Jayson.

  “I'm simply checking on my third best friend,” replies Trafford.

  Derrick's eyes flutter open. "It's okay. He's been civil."

  Trafford smooths his immaculate suit. "Yes, this is all civil. I've been explaining to Mr. Marlow that I will honor our arrangement."

  "So, we're done?" asks Lexia bluntly.

  "Indeed. All that is owed to you will be processed within the next few days. The funds will be transferred to accounts opened in your names. The paperwork is already being prepared."

  "What's the catch?" asks Jayson.

  "Don’t worry about it." Trafford checks his watch. "I require seventy-two hours for the transfers and other arrangements to take effect. That’s standard for basically everything, so don’t panic."

  “And then you'll leave us alone?"

  "Sure. Why not?” Trafford slips his hat on and tilts his head in farewell. "Well, I must be going. Paperwork waits for no one." He nods to Derrick. "Mr. Marlow, I wish you a speedy recovery."

  After Trafford leaves, the room falls silent except for the steady beeping of Derrick's heart monitor.

  "Can we trust him?" asks Jayson.

  Derrick wheezes, the movement clearly causing him pain. "He'll keep his word. Just watch for the fine print."

  "How are you feeling?" asks Lexia, approaching the bed.

  "Like I tried to wrestle a tornado." Derrick attempts a smile that turns into a grimace. "Doc says I'll fly again, but it'll be months of therapy."

  "I'm sorry. I should have gotten there sooner," says Jayson.

  "Don't start with that," says Derrick, coughing right after. "We needed this to happen with Ramsey and Mama Bear. It was just rougher than we thought. And you two need to stop worrying about me and get some rest. I promise I'll be fine."

  "We'll check on you later," says Lexia.

  She gives Derrick’s hand a squeeze, and then she and Jayson quietly leave the room. In the hallway, Bridgette slips past them to return to Derrick’s room, and Jayson leans against the wall, sighing heavily.

  “Man… Derrick’s got to have PLOT ARMOR, too. That’s the only way he’s still alive,” says Jayson.

  Lexia nods. “That serum is confusing, though. We should talk to Trafford again and see if he’ll spill more beans about it.”

  Jayson shakes his head and pushes himself off the wall, holding his IV rack tight as he shuffles down the hallway. “I’d rather not deal with him. But I would like some lunch. I’m kinda hungry.”

  "Cafeteria's on the ground floor," says Lexia, walking after him. "Think you can make it?"

  “If I can survive Ramsey, I can survive a walk to the cafeteria.”

  A few minutes later, they reach the hospital cafeteria. Fluorescent lights cast a harsh glow over the institutional green walls and beige tile floor, and Jayson and Lexia grab trays and move through the cold bar line, selecting sandwiches, fruit cups, and cartons of milk. As they search for a table, Jayson stops short. In the far corner is Mortimer and Claribel, huddled close together at a small table. Mortimer's arms are heavily bandaged, and Claribel is feeding him french fries since he can't use his hands. Neither have noticed them yet.

  "Should we go somewhere else?" asks Lexia.

  Jayson hesitates, then shakes his head. "No. It's time we ended this."

  They approach the table, and Claribel spots them first. Her body tightens, and she sets down the fry she was about to feed Mortimer.

  "What do you two want?” says Claribel.

  Mortimer turns, his burned face fully exposed. He scoffs and tilts his head back to look at the ceiling. "Oh, great. Have you come to finish the job?"

  "Actually, we came to eat. Mind if we join you?" says Jayson.

  The four stare at each other for a long, tense moment.

  "Fine," huffs Mortimer. "But let’s keep it civil. I'm not in the mood for violence, today."

  Jayson and Lexia sit across from Mortimer and Claribel, and an awkward silence comes between them as they eat. Claribel continues feeding Mortimer, though her red eyes never leave the pair across from them.

  "So, how are the burns?" asks Lexia cautiously.

  "Painful," replies Mortimer. "But the doctors say I'll have full use of my hands in a few days. These bandages are just to keep infections out or something."

  "That's good," says Jayson.

  More awkward silence comes. The minutes tick by, and suddenly Claribel slams her hands down, ratting her tail and making everyone jump.

  "This is ridiculous! We were just trying to kill each other a few days ago, and now we're sitting here like it's an awkward double date,” says Claribel.

  "I think it is more like a peace meal. Sort of like when Xenia and Heracules had that feast at the end of the Xenia and Heracules crossover special,” says Jayson.

  “You mean the Xenia and Heracules Christmas Special?” says Mortimer.

  Jayson's face lights up. “You know about that?”

  “Yeah. It sucked. Kevin Sober carried the whole thing, which led uneven acting and the script sucked.”

  “Give me a break. Alexandria Aroma was the best one. You're just being a hater.”

  “Bite me. Claribel, dear, can I have another French fry?”

  “Of course,” says Claribel.

  Mortimer opens his mouth and Claribel feeds him another fry.

  “Aside from Mortimer's very wrong opinion about the Xenia and Heracules Christmas Special, as far as I’m concerned, our fight with you two is over. Mama Bear is definitely going to want you two dead for what happened, and I never had beef with you to begin with. Mostly. I’m still mad that you shot me and tried to kill me a lot, but that’s water under the bridge," says Jayson.

  Mortimer studies him, still chewing his fry. "Yeah, it was just a job for me. But you cost me my job, so I hate you.”

  “You needed a better job, anyway. I did you a favor.”

  Mortimer frowns, and Jayson holds out his hand.

  “How about a truce?” asks Jayson.

  Mortimer stares at Jayson. His eyes flick to the rabbit’s hand, back to his eyes, and his frown deepens as he bobs his bandaged hands in the air.

  “Oh… right… Still, do you want a truce?” says Jayson.

  Mortimer sighs heavily. “Fine. I’ll accept a truce. Claribel, do you accept a truce?”

  Claribel looks at Lexia, who flashes her a sweet smile.

  “I guess so. It’ll be one less problem to worry about, considering what’s heading our way,” says Claribel.

  “Yes,” hisses Lexia, fist pumping. “Score one for peace! Now, who wants milkshakes?”

  Claribel raises her hand. "Chocolate for me. And vanilla for Mortimer."

  “I don't want a milkshake,” says Mortimer.

  Claribel rolls her eyes. “Fine, no milkshake for Mortimer.”

  “Jayson, do you want a milkshake?” asks Lexia.

  “Sure. Strawberry, please,” says Jayson.

  Lexia grins. “Excellent choice.”

  She leaves the table, and a few minutes later, she returns with three towering milkshakes topped with whipped cream. This is enough to lighten the atmosphere, and Lexia quickly distributes the milkshakes.

  "To a new day," says Lexia, raising her strawberry milkshake.

  "To a new day," repeats the others, clinking their cups together. After they lower their glasses, Mortimer leans over and licks outta a thick clump of Claribel’s chocolate milkshake, earning him a slap on the shoulder that he meets with a grin. As the group sips their desserts, Jayson feels something he hasn't experienced in a long time. A moment of peace.

  Tomorrow will no doubt bring new challenges. Trafford's promise will need to be verified. Derrick will need time to recover. The remains of Mama Bear's operation in Bliss Town need to be mopped up. But for now, in this fluorescent-lit cafeteria with its mediocre food and surprisingly good milkshakes, surrounded by former enemies turned frenemies, Jayson allows himself to relax.

  The war isn't over, but this battle is. And for now, that's enough.