This is the first fanfic that I've written in a while, and the first that I've ever published. Reviews would be great.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the character used, except for Cillian.

This story is dedicated to my late cat, S, who died last Monday. He was over 20 (human)years old.

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Zane had just reached work, late as usual, when he got the phone call.

"Hey, Zane," Jo spoke softly in the phone, "can you come over?" The words were spoken with such a silent urgency that they got his attention immediately.

"Why? Is something wrong?" Zane replied quietly as he moved away from the bustle of the rotunda at Global Dynamics . He was genuinely worried. Jo didn't freak out about much.

"It's Cillian," Jo continued hesitantly. She sounded like she was crying. "I think he might be dying."After the omission Jo really did start crying. They were light, delicate sobs that broke Zane's heart. Then the real heartbreaker came. "Please, Zane. I need you here."

Zane was worried. Jo never said please to anyone, for anything. She was prideful and independent to a fault, and would rather have to work twice as hard to get something on her own than to have to ask nicely for it. Strangely enough, it was one of the things that he loved about her the most.

Then again, her ability to love was another thing that he loved about her. Jo didn't trust people easily, but once she did she gave everything she had to them. Especially to Cillian, her cat. He was her closest companion, probably the only thing that she loved more than Zane. Jo had gotten him when she was a little girl, and they had been together ever since. After she got out of the army she brought him to Eureka with her. By that time he had been very old, much older than most cats. Zane had often wondered how he managed to last as long as he did, but supposed that it was Jo's love and attention.

His response came quickly, without any thought all. "Of course, Josie," he began, "I'll be there in twenty minutes." If Jo wanted him there, he would be there for her, no questions asked.

"Thank you. Please hurry." Jo sniffed back into the phone.

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Zane spun around and began walking quickly back to his car. He had to get to Jo's house quickly. Zane broke into a slow jog, not looking where he was going. He was about to leave the building when he ran smack into Fargo, who was carrying a large contraption that looked extremely dangerous. When they collided the machine sprang to life and began emitting loud bangs and puffs of smoke. The first of these hit Zane in the face, right above the eye. As the smoke made contact in burned and smoked horribly.

"Dammit, Fargo. What the hell is that thing?" Zane swore, rubbing his left eyebrow. Or rather, where his left eyebrow had been moments before. Fargo opened his mouth to answer but Zane cut him off, remembering suddenly that he had somewhere to be. "You know what, Fargo," he said, "I really don't care right now. I have to get to Jo's." Zane turned to leave but then remembered something . He was supposed to be at work. Though attendance had never been his strong suit, Allison was big on it and had already reprimanded him several times for being late or not showing up to work at all. "Hey, Fargo, Zane said, "could you tell Dr. Blake that I wasn't feeling well and went home? Thanks." Zane took off again, sprinting towards his car.

Fargo stood in the lobby staring at Zane. Though he didn't particularly like the other man, he figured that he would grant Zane's favor. After all, it isn't everyday that you can burn off somebody's eyebrows without getting written up for misuse or mistreatment of equipment. And Fargo really did already have enough of those in his file.

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Jo had called Zane at nine-thirty in the morning. He reached her house by ten o' clock. He found he lying on the floor in front of her coat closet, crying silently.

"Hey," he said, bending down a placing a comforting hand on her lower back. "How is he?"

Jo looked up at him, her eyes still wet. She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. "See for yourself," she replied, nodding towards the back of the closet.

There was Cillian, curled up in the back of the closet, nestled among the shoe boxes and bags. He appeared to be sleeping. Zane reached out and gently stroked his head. The cat didn't respond. Zane slowly slid he fingers down Cillian's neck. He had a pulse, but it was weak and thready. It matched his breathing, which was shallow and wheezing. "What happened?" Zane asked softly.

"Yesterday afternoon he was fine. He seemed ok."Jo said quietly. "He ate and drank some water from the shower and I even played with him for a little while. Then last night he started mewing really loudly. He was sick-he had really bad diarrhea. Then by four in the morning he was in here. I can't get him to come out, or even to look at me." She finished softly.

Zane absently ran his hand over Jo's side, then back over Cillian. He had had some experience working with animals in the past, and could tell when they weren't doing well. Now, looking at Cillian, he thought that Jo had been pretty accurate when she said that he was dying.

As if she was reading his thoughts, Jo turned her head from Cillian to look at Zane. "I was right, wasn't I," she said. "He's dying, isn't he."

Zane looked back at Jo. She had stopped crying and was simply staring at him, waiting for him to give her the answer that she knew was coming. Zane would rather have told her anything else, anything but the truth. But he knew, from the way that she was staring at him and simply from her personality that what she wanted was only the truth. So he gave it to her.

"Yes."

Jo gazed at him silently, a sad smile on her lips. She forward and kissed him softly on the cheek. She was glad that he had told her the truth. Then she turned backed and reached forward to stroke Cillian's soft coat. As she ran her fingers under his chin, his eyes flickered open and made contact with hers. He purred softly.

Jo's eyes filled with tears again. She continued to stroke Cillian's head. Soon Zane's hand, larger but just as callused and weathered as hers, joined hers.

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Four hours after Zane got there, Cillian died. He never moved from his spot in the closet. Near the end, he had a sudden moment of continuous muscle spasms and diarrhea that Zane supposed were part of either a stroke or a heart attack. Either way, the cat's body suddenly gave out on him, and he was dead.

Neither Jo nor Zane cried. Zane stood up to get some towels from the linen closet. Together, they cleaned Cillian up and tucked his tail around his legs, just the way that he liked it. Then Jo got a box and lined in with towels. Zane gently put him inside. To someone who didn't know better, the cat could have been sleeping.

After saying their last goodbyes, the couple rested Cillian in the garage for the night. It wasn't until after they had closed the closet doors and put the dirty linen in the washing machine that either of them cried.

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Jo broke down as she watched Zane close the closet door. Her cat, who had been her constant companion through those carefree days in elementary school to the torment-filled ones of middle school to the glory years of high school, college, and beyond, was gone. He had been with her for over twenty years of her life, and now that he was gone she felt like part of her was too.

Zane put his arms around her and began to cry too. He knew what it was like to have a childhood pet die, but couldn't even being to fathom what losing a pet who had been with you for twenty years was like. And anything that affected Jo like this had the same, if not worse, affect on him. He hated seeing her cry when he knew that there was nothing that he could do about it. All he could do was to hold her and hope that eventually, he could somehow help ease her pain.

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They had been standing in front of the closet, leaning on one another for half an hour when Zane noticed that Jo's sobs had subsided. He looked down and suddenly realized that she had been up all night and then had experienced what was probably one of the worst days of her life. She needed to rest. Zane gently tried to tug her in the direction of the bedroom, but Jo was rooted to the spot, gazing at the closet. "He's gone, Josie," Zane said softly to her. "He's gone."

"Yeah," Jo replied, still staring at the now empty closet. "I guess you're right." Zane hadn't had any expected an answer to his statement, but figured that this was a good sign to be built from. "He's gone." Jo said one last time. Then she turned to Zane and hugged him.

"C'mon," Zane said, as he led her to her bed. "You need to rest. A full eight hours." At this Jo gave him a look. Zane grinned back at her. She already seemed to be returning to her old self. He waited patiently while she changed and then tucked her into bed and slid in next to her. He knew , without her asking, that she wanted him here tonight. "Good night, Josefina. I love you." He said as he ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her forehead.

Zane watched her until she nodded off to sleep. He had just laid his head down on his pillow when her voice brought him back to attention.

"Zane," she whispered as he continued to rub her shoulder, "thanks for being there. It meant a lot to me. And to Cillian too…I know that he liked you, and he was picky about people." They both tried to suppress laughter. Cillian had been extremely difficult when it came to company. If he didn't like someone, he had a tendency to either claw, bite, or urinate on them and their things. The first time that he met Zane he ruined his pants, shoes, and scratched his arm. Zane still had the nasty scar to prove it.

"Anyway," Jo continued, "just..well, thanks. For everything. I love you."

"I know." Zane said, kissing her forehead again. "Just try to sleep now, Josie."

Jo smiled warmly at him and closed her eyes.

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Tomorrow, Zane doubted that either of them would be going to work. They would get up late, eat brunch, and then look into getting Cillian cremated. And they would do it all together. Cillian's death had brought them much closer. Jo had cried in front of another person and allowed them to comfort her. As Jo and Zane drifted peacefully off to sleep, they both knew that from now on, things like this would be done together. Always.