Every day of the year when he was in Alaska, Cliff had gotten used to wrestling the door lock to his uncle's house when he got home. He'd gotten so used to this state, he can tell which day was cooler as cold winds brush against his fur while he fought at the front porch with the lock. When the lock finally clicked, he braced his nose.

Tonight, there was no alcohol as he stepped inside. That would either mean his uncle wasn't home, or he wasn't drinking. In the four -five years he's lived under his uncle's rather humble abode, he was glad there was more and more of the latter. Still, old habits die hard, as they say, and it clung onto his uncle like the drink's reek on his fur.

The lights were mostly off, so Andrew must be out. Cliff checked his watch; it was just about nine thirty, so the night was still young. After he dragged his duffel bag in, the lynx brushed the shoulders of his coat and hung it at the door, and untied his shoes. As he bent, a creak inside caused his ears to twitch.
"Unc, are you home?" he called out. There wasn't a response. He padded through the corridor into the small living room, his feline eyes easily adjusting to the dark. "Uncle?"

There was a faint mew in response. The lynx's eyes were drawn to the door to his left, headed into the back rooms. A small tomcat crept inside, looking lost and confused. Cliff only tilted his head, puzzled, then he stepped further in to reach for the cat, only for it to dart off back into the laundry room. He blinked, humming in bewilderment and proceeded to follow it to the partially ajar door. As he neared it, he felt a breeze ruffle his ankles; he pushed the door open and turned to the far corner, and saw a small hole at the backdoor's base cracked open.

"Oh, cripes." he murmured. Then, his ears sharply turned behind him, hearing a jiggle of the doorknob coming from the front door, and the lynx drew a sharp breath, remembering that he hadn't locked the door. He turned tail hastily and made for the door, to find an imposingly large figure standing at the doorway, the chill blowing in. Still accustomed to the dark, the outside was brighter than it should have been; but the lynx's nose picked up the scent carried in quickly. "Bobby."

"You left your door open," the polar bear motioned vaguely at it. Cliff's eyes adjusted to the lighting and saw his friend's familiar figure. His fur flattened and he could feel his cheeks flush. He quietly cursed himself for being paranoid, and for forgetting to lock the door.

"Yeah, yeah I did - a cat managed to sneak in." he quickly explained, flattening his ears in embarrassment.

"A cat ?" the big bear took a short pause before he slowly bowed his head as he entered, his size almost too big for the door. In fact, the whole house was almost too short for the bear. It made sense, considering that Andrew had bought the house from a human.

"A feral one," he added hastily, realizing that he was being vague. "Kitty cat, you know." he looked off to the side, then weaved around the polar bear to peer outside. Bobby's car was parked at the driveway, turned off. "Marcus isn't --"

"Oh, just a cat --" they spoke at the same time. Cliff let loose a quiet chuckle, then gently closed the door and began his routine of finagling with the door lock first, and then the additional lock. "No, Marcus isn't with me," the polar bear picked up on what the lynx was speaking about, and awkwardly pointed at the door. "and I didn't want to stay too long -- is your uncle home?"
It was then Cliff realized that he had immediately assumed that Bobby was visiting and treated him like a guest and locked him inside. "Oh, cripes sake. Sorry." he pursed his lips and started to open the door. "Well, uh. Uncle's not here, and you're in -- could I get you anything? What's with the visit?" he could hear himself stumbling on his own words. He felt his body warm up, flustered. He didn't quite begin the ritual of working the lock just yet.

"I came because you left this," he fished around in his pockets and drew out a smartphone. It was familiar --

"Oh, mine! I left it!" Cliff blurted out, his ears already stuck firmly on his head. "God, I've just been all over today, haven't I?" he chuckled nervously. "Thanks." He barely looked up to Bobby's grin - and a concerned gaze as the lynx took the phone and did a habitual check of any notifications before pocketing it. A few messages and a missed call. He rubbed his brown-furred arms nervously.

"It's a good thing a few of us stuck around the locker rooms for a bit. It rang and we caught that you left it in your locker." Cliff could only grumble and growl in response. The lynx looked off to the kitchen just to the pair's left, before the corridor leading into the living room.

"Well, ah. I could make you some tea, or a ginger drink. You came through all this trouble..." he nervously walked around the bear, but he could feel the stern gaze boring into his scalp. "Maybe a fishcake? Dad brought some when he was in town, and I know you like those."

He heard a low, concerned growl coming from the polar bear at the doorway. "Look, Cliff, I'll take you up on your hospitality, because some of us were getting a bit concerned."

"Right - I'll get tea," the bear's words were already forming a lump in his chest. "Concerned?" he lightly carried the conversation while he kept himself busy with going through drawers and shelves, preparing tea and a few fish cakes on a plate. He bit his lip, knowing what was coming. "About?"

The bear had made himself at home and sat down at the kitchen table. "Lately - everything really. You've been all over the place, aloof. It shows in your game, it shows in the locker room, your injuries, and it shows here. Something's been on your mind."

The feline flicked the knob on an electric thermos and watched the water heat up, slowly. it took him a whole minute before he sighed, turning around to meet his friend's eyes. "It was that obvious, huh."

Bobby only shot him a soft glare in response. Nothing needed to be said. Cliff shuffled and pulled a chair back; as he sat he gave off another sigh.

"You heard what the coach's been saying after the games." the lynx started, with a shrug. "He's right." the memory of coach Nelson's straight, sharp and piercing criticism was nothing like the harsh yet honest tones of coach Tabanov. But Cliff knew that even if the snow leopard was still their coach, his words would've still been as truthful.

"But nothing's changing." Bobby argued, his frown only deepened as the thermos started to boil. "You've barely moved since the start of the season. You're performing worse than last season."

The words stung, but Cliff couldn't do much to fight against it. "I just -- " he turned around to quickly lift up the boiling thermos and poured piping hot water into the cups. "Everyone else is doing so much better. I can't keep up with any of them." he admitted, ears splaying while he feebly brought the cups to the wooden table.

"Come on, Cliff, what is this?" the polar bear growled, his large paws jittering the table in a light shove. "Self-doubt? You've never told me anything about this."

"It isn't something I want to air out in public or bawl out over twitter, Bobby." the lynx turned around, emotions flurrying from shame to anger. He recounted the number of times he read and heard other players - rookies, some of them - complain about their performance publically. He related, and inside, he knew how they felt.

"Then what about to us? Your own team? Or me?" the chair groaned as the bear pushed himself to his feet, palms planted on the table.

Cliff put down a plate of fish cakes, his green eyes managing to look back at the bear's. He could almost feel his hurt and betrayal. And that only aggravated the lynx further. "I don't want to admit it, Bobby." the brown fur sharply replied, trembling slightly in fear. "I've just -- stopped. It's felt like this for years."

"What are you talking about?" the polar bear snapped, his ears sharply pinning themselves as he slowly understood. "You've been so determined every year to make a name for yourself. You tell us that every year. You were one of the top of the team in your second."

Cliff ran a paw along his face. "I know, I know that! It's just -- I can't seem to --" he struggled to find words to explain himself. "I'm...I'm clueless on where I wanna go."

Bobby looked like he was caught between confusion and anger. Cliff knew this all came from left field - he had been good at hiding his emotions and playing things off with a strong face.

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you." he sighed again, easing into his chair and looking up at his teammate. "I just didn't want to admit it myself, I guess."

"What's gotten in your head?" Bobby appeared conflicted, but he settled himself enough to take a seat. "It's not like you to be so down. I haven't seen you this way since..." his brows raised calmly as the realization dawned on him. "Two years ago."

"Yeah. End of the season." Cliff took a hesitant drink of his tea, his head flooding with events that stuck and held him for two years straight.

"So losing your role model cost you all this?" the bear regained his composure to also start drinking, gazing at the feline expectantly for his story. Cliff acknowledged the question with a twitch of his ear. They've been close friends long enough to know that Cliff would spill by this point.

"His farewell party had kinda sunk it in for me." the brown lynx tapped his glass with a claw nervously, thinking of each word to say. His head recounted Rodger's last night as an Arctic, and it wasn't exactly the smoothest. Cliff gazed up at Bobby to check his response; it was a stern snort, and a slight dip of his large head. "I know you two still don't see eye to eye after that. But you knew how much he meant to me."

Bobby nodded. "Always taking in every piece of advice, always looking to him for quite a few things."

"The way he carried himself, I knew I wanted to be like him." the more he talked, the easier it felt. Relief washed over his body, and he felt nothing of the chill outside. "And then, I just lost it when he said he was leaving the team. I understood his reasons, but..." he bit his lip, puzzled.

"You couldn't accept it. So you were confused." the bear surmised. "You relied on him too much, and suddenly he did something you never expected."

The lynx swallowed his tea bitterly. "Right."

"Let me tell you something, then." he leaned forward, his massive weight creaking the comparatively small chair. "When he left the team, it fell on me to watch Alaska while Esteban was still getting his tail dipped in the cold. I saw everyone there - devastated. He was our hook, our leader. And we didn't recover at all until this season." his gaze darkened as he explained, a look of pain on his face. "I was guilty of the same thing, you know. I trusted him. And I couldn't fill in that gap when the team needed it. It was heavy on me - after all, I was the oldest Arctic, I've been here the longest out of the entire team, and I was supposed to take charge. But I didn't."

"You shouldn't blame yourself for last year's performance." The team was at the bottom, he recalled. It was more than humiliating to see the team crumble so far from where they were, but the media were right in reporting that Rodger's departure took a hefty blow on the team, more than the loss of coach Tabanov.

"I don't as much anymore. But I've stepped things up and moved on. We all have, Cliff, and you need to as well."

"I'm just stuck, Bobby. I've tried for the past year and a half."

"Aren't you the one who prides on being adaptable?" the bear chided. "I'm sorry, but I'm not talking to that determined lynx who won player of the game two years ago, or the lynx citing that as his reason for being able to be a pro athlete."

Cliff growled in frustration, setting his tea down. He swiped a fishcake and tore into it angrily. "Come on, Bobby, don't give me that."

"I'm giving it to you right now." he snapped. "I want to get you over that hurdle, Cliff, but you're not going anywhere until you decide that you're done being down here."

The lynx's claws dug deeply into the cake, his growl escalating stronger. He cut it off sharply and let out a short breath.

"Are you going to just wallow in self-pity and spend your time going nowhere?"

Those words cut Cliff at his core; he suddenly saw an image of his own uncle, having been trapped in a vicious cycle and never moving past his old crimes for twenty long years. His youth's potential cut short by a poor decision.

The brown fur looked up at his friend and shook his head, firmness returning to his green eyes while he met Bobby's stern look. Cliff took a deep breath and wiped his face again. "I don't want to stay like this, Bobby. I hate feeling like I'm getting paid but not giving back. I hate being stuck and not able to adapt and grow, striving for perfection. I don't want to be sent back to the reserve line."

"You can do it. I didn't get to my position early in my career you know. I'm no prodigy like some of the folk in our team now, or others. You still got experience, and you just need to find your old passion again." he cracked a grin. "Kind of like sparking an old flame."

For whatever reason, that made Cliff laugh. He curbed it off by taking a casual bite of the fish cake, to which Bobby had also began digging in from. "Passion, eh. Maybe I do need to find it again. I'd hate to see it die forever."

"And now you have a direction to head to. Start from there." Bobby sagely nodded, biting a large chunk of his fish cake into his big jaws.

"Sometimes I still feel like I'm not a pro athlete." Cliff chuckled nervously. "Like a cub fresh out of high school."

"You know what they say --" a mewling cut Bobby off. The two turned their heads in the direction of the laundry room.

"Oh, cripes."
================
I've found myself inspired enough to write a piece about Cliff again at long last. This'll be the first of at least 3 I'll be writing to figure out which direction Cliff will be headed in the FBA.


FBA by  buckhopper
Bobby Baylor by  Jtigerclaw
Cliff Matthiews by  rainwhisker