Disclaimer: I don't own The Secret of Nimh. After some consideration, I've decided to make a sequel to my previous fanfic. It took longer than expected because I've never written anything like this before. As for the timeline, it takes place after Mrs. Brisby escapes the cage and goes back to the rosebush. Also, this is assuming she doesn't know the rosebush will be destroyed.

WARNING - The ending is highly disturbing and a big reason for the rating.

Illusion

Mrs. Brisby released a mournful sigh from where she sat amid a cluster of weeds several steps away from the rats' rosebush. The mission to save her family seemed so simple. How foolish she had been to not doubt it once.

Of course, this wasn't to say the mission had been easy. Confronting Dragon, the infamous cat that made a casual snack of her poor husband, took more courage than Mrs. Brisby could have summoned by herself. She needed every encouragement Justin gave her in order to slip the drug into Dragon's mammoth feeding bowl.

Then came the nerve-wracking turn of events in which Mrs. Brisby got abducted by the Fitzgibbon's son and tossed inside a lofty cage. So too was Mrs. Brisby's self-confidence tossed back to square one. Well through the night was spent reviving it just to leave the Fitzgibbon enclosure.

Mrs. Brisby had sought assurance upon returning to the rosebush, specifically the assurance that capable, experienced rats could give a hesitant mouse that caused them delay. A very different vision greeted her instead: fragmented machinery, her house half-submerged in mud, indistinct rats huddled together. Worst of all, neither Mr. Ages, nor Justin were to be found.

Each worried attempt made by Mrs. Brisby to carry a question was met with increased guarded muttering from the rats. In spite of her growing meekness, Mrs. Brisby kept trying to be heard until one drastically relevant mutter caught her attention; "Nicodemus is dead."

Thus, it drove Mrs. Brisby fleeing to where she currently was. The panic felt by witnessing her family's mortal peril and losing her chief guide went beyond her endurance. She had to literally distance herself for composure's sake.

But there existed no distance in Mrs. Brisby's heart. She placed an unsteady hand to her temple and pondered her actions. Auntie Shrew's past criticisms towards her parental incompetence now seemed like a finite prophecy. Yet how would it have been better to get hysterical upon that weakness? How would she have demonstrated her worth as a mother?

Suddenly, the weeds rustled their announcement of a second presence to emerge. "Nicodemus's death was a great loss."

Mrs. Brisby was startled at having her privacy be over and done with. She looked and there was Jenner parting his way through, cloak billowing behind him.

In terms of behavior, Jenner was the polar opposite of his fellow rats. He remained resonant as ever though not sounding too concerned. "Without his leadership," he continued, "the 'Thorn Valley' plan is well nigh impossible."

Meanwhile, Mrs. Brisby gazed mistily ahead to where a gathering fog enveloped the distant rosebush. Then, without warning, she burst into tears. She buried her face in her hands, chest racked with sobs deeper than it could stifle.

Jenner took a moment to check the barren surroundings. "What's wrong?" he asked Mrs. Brisby, drawing nearer with fresh interest.

Struggling to calm down, Mrs. Brisby folded her hands over her mouth and exhaled. But her voice kept wobbling as if threatening to tip the physical balance that she created. "My children are trapped in that b-block. It's s-sinking as we speak and I can't h-help them."

Silence followed and gradually, Mrs. Brisby became embarrassed at her indulgent display. Who was she to seek pity? Jenner had probably seen Nicodemus die and he wasn't allowing it to hinder himself.

Such was the extent Mrs. Brisby invested in guilt that she wholeheartedly disregarded Jenner kneeling behind her. He circled her fine-boned shoulders with his muscular arms, provoking a gasp.

Normally, Jenner's massive frame would've scared Mrs. Brisby due to their size difference. Now she considered it solid and secure, exactly what she needed for all-around support.

"You've forgotten me," Jenner accused, a reminder of his promise.

"What could you possibly do, Jenner?" asked Mrs. Brisby dejectedly.

There was another pause. With a flick of his wrist, Jenner dangled Mrs. Brisby's necklace by its chain in front of them both.

Mrs. Brisby wound up captivated by the necklace's sway, specifically by the jewel set in its golden frame. Brilliant beyond any ruby, its facets were more like the temperaments of something conscious.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Jenner remarked, bewitching Mrs. Brisby further into the moment. "Do you think you can handle it?"

"What are you talking about?" Mrs. Brisby asked, taken aback by the question.

Jenner rested his chin on top of Mrs. Brisby's head. "The stone glows at its fullest potential."

Mrs. Brisby started to fidget at being informed again with riddles. "Yes, I know," she insisted. "But why does that matter?"

Subduing Mrs. Brisby required predictably minimal effort on Jenner's behalf. "It matters," he said, "because the stone gets that way when worn by one with a strong sense of will. Their greatest desires become granted as a result. Anything they wish for," Jenner added with a hint.

Though not favoring mysticism, Mrs. Brisby weighed in its potential nonetheless. Maybe there was hope yet for her family's safety since there had been much Nicodemus demonstrated that proved unfathomable.

Jenner's elaboration only lent that hope credence. "In your case - oh, wait," Jenner halted. His next scattered utterances served as shards to cut and confront Mrs. Brisby with their reflection. "That's not correct, is it? Such notions don't apply to you. Why else are you here then?" Somehow Jenner could've been mistaken for chatting, he was so oddly pleasant. "You're scared, lost."

"Jenner!" Mrs. Brisby cried out in shame. She wanted nothing more than to be buried in the mud with her children as she justly deserved.

Jenner stilled Mrs. Brisby against his chest, binding her to him. "I'm only telling the truth. You can't hide yourself from me."

Smoother than snake coils, Jenner wound an arm over Mrs. Brisby's strained abdomen before having its hand dare to descend lower. The greedy appetite of his palm wasn't satisfied till it had consumed her delicate pelvis. Even then, his fingertips hovered keenly past the edge to where more sensitive areas lay.

It wasn't long before Mrs. Brisby was squirming for reasons in the opposite direction, into the penetrative heat that Jenner's palm caused her inner flesh. Stirred by her emotions, she nuzzled into his coarse doublet on impulse.

Jenner smirked, allowing Mrs. Brisby to seek purchase. He pressed down more while spreading his legs, removing any lingering space between them. A feral rasp acquired itself in his voice when the bodily friction peaked. "See how you're responding?"

Straightening up abruptly, Mrs. Brisby observed her compromising position. Her children, her house, what was she doing?

Dazed and feeble, however, were the crucial results of Mrs. Brisby resisting Jenner's ministrations for the third time. "No," she murmured, "I don't want...leave me alone."

Jenner simply had his unswerving hand complete its journey by bending his fingers inwards, deeply embedding them. Mrs. Brisby, whimpering, collapsed in his arms.

"I admit I pity you a little, Mrs. Brisby," said Jenner, gliding his other hand from Mrs. Brisby's waist to her neck. "You haven't had a single moment's peace...while denying yourself what you want most." As Jenner stroked the soft curvature, Mrs. Brisby's glazed eyes were a fraction open, jagged puffs escaping her mouth.

"So I'm giving you a gift," Jenner urged. "It'll be rude of you to reject it."

Working with surprising nimbleness, Jenner set out to unfasten Mrs. Brisby's cape. She arched into him in passion, the red fabric wafting off like the streaked skies of dusk.

When the hazy horizon edged into her viewpoint, Mrs. Brisby finally experienced real dread. What a coincidence Jenner happened across her in this weather. What a coincidence how alone they still were. Well, she couldn't be here any longer, could she? At this rate, nothing was fixed.

Then Jenner entrapped Mrs. Brisby in both essence and cloak and plunged them on all fours.

Jenner loomed over Mrs. Brisby's prone body, licking and rubbing it in his ruthless lust. He made apparent his aggression in getting her to feel and only feel.

Indeed, Mrs. Brisby did feel. She felt the telltale symptoms that she had previously underwent with her husband, those chills that thawed. It was not unlike waking from hibernation.

But everything approached far, far too fast. Mrs. Brisby's body was distancing her mind. She tried relaying to Jenner how she felt but her teeth chattered. "P-P-Please!"

Jenner hushed Mrs. Brisby less than an instant later. He splayed his unoccupied hand over her lips and chin, tilting her face so they locked eyes.

"Why so nervous?" Remarkably, Jenner kept cool despite his breathiness. "Am I making you hot?"

Mrs. Brisby blushed to the roots of her fur. She had trouble adapting to such teasing for all she knew were romantic sentiments.

Jenner, being inevitably close, sensed Mrs. Brisby's bashful tension. His amused laughter reverberated Mrs. Brisby's muscle strings like he was strumming a harp. "Just relax, darling," he assured her, raising her lower half to his.

Following the custom of their species, Jenner and Mrs. Brisby came together repeatedly over an hour's course. Other than that, Jenner didn't care for convention in pursuing pleasure the way her husband had. His being was that of purest instinct. The animal defied the experiment.

And it wasn't only the obvious included in the gap stretching the two. It included also how overwhelmingly Jenner filled Mrs. Brisby herself with instinct, abandonment skirting on madness.

The line between what hurt and what ached soon turned illegible. Jenner's bites were getting harder, devouring, adding to the confusion. They made Mrs. Brisby giddy and weightless, especially when they shook her flesh from its foundation.

In any case, Mrs. Brisby couldn't stay conscious enough to care. Perhaps what she needed was rest from these external forces that were eating at her today.

Yes, rest would be best.