There was one for sure truth in life: Fat people didn't fail cooking. By rule, then Baloo was an excellent cook when he wanted to be. And this morning he wanted to be. Quiche Lorraine with his own special spinach and artichoke cream sauce, hash browns, and sausage links to round it out with. A moment ago the sound of the shower had ceased, giving him a rough warning that Becky would be out in a few minutes. He put two slices of bread in the toaster so he could start them as soon as he heard the bathroom door open. The quiche and hash browns were done and warming in the oven, and the sausage links were almost done. With any luck the timing would come off splendidly. An easy bet if things kept going the way they had been.

What an up and down the last ten hours had been. Despite Becky's being in a noticeably down and out mood the last few weeks, they had shared a pleasant evening last night, listening to the radio, playing cards, and sharing a good bottle of wine. They were up late and he suggested that, given her low tolerance for alcohol, she not drive home when there was a perfectly good guest bed she could use and she agreed. Then she had come to him in the night, lost in melancholy. Seven years they had known each other and she had never once spoke of the man he now knew was named Aiden Malcolm Cunningham.

But she spoke of him at length last night, and the longer she spoke the more despondent she became until finally she seemed spent, and she slept. Quite peacefully it seemed. And then this morning, waking to the delicious feeling of her in his arms, followed by a side of her he never thought he'd see. Intense, passionate, sensual. The both of them climbing to heights of pleasure (at least he thought so, judging by the sounds she was making) he would never have dreamed they would share.

No, he was kidding himself about that. He'd dreamed of it before. Hypothetically, but also quite literally once or twice. And never had he considered it to be any more than a dream. But now he realized how much he had come to desire that type of a relationship with her. It seemed only natural. They worked together, enough that it seemed they lived together. They had raised two children together (almost). They spent the largest majority of their time with each other. This just seemed like the next logical step. And now that they had taken it, he felt happier than he had in quite some time.

The bathroom door opened and Baloo quickly punched the toast down and began setting the small table. A moment later she appeared. Hair still wet, shirttail hanging out, she looked very domestic and absolutely ravishing. His smile came naturally.

"Got breakfast just about ready."

"No thank you, I'm not hungry."

Baloo froze. Her tone of voice and demeanor were not at all what he expected. And she had to be hungry. He knew for a fact that at least thirteen hours had passed since her last meal. Everything was suddenly wrong. She seemed to be in a great hurry. She pulled her hair back and tied it off with a scrunchee and quickly stuffed her shirt down her pants.

"We got something going on this morning you forgot to mention? Wildcat was gonna tune the engines on the Duck."

"No. No, I…I just have to go. I have other things to do."

"Well I thought you might want to talk about-."

"No, Baloo, I don't want to talk about it. I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. It shouldn't have happened. Among other things, I'm your boss and it's just not appropriate."

"Well, yeah you're the boss but I thought our relationship was a little more than th-."

"We don't have a relationship, Baloo. We're co-workers, nothing more. I'm sorry if I led you on. I won't go so far as to call this morning a mistake. But let's just call it two people enjoying each other for a time, move on, and never talk about it again."

She yanked her maroon sweater off the back of the couch and stuffed her arms into it.

"But Becky, I thought-."

"I'm sorry, Baloo. But it never happened. Now I have to go."

"But Rebecca," he pleaded.

"Baloo, that's my last word on it. I'll see you at the office. Goodbye."

The door slammed behind her and all the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room as she left. He collapsed into the nearest chair, stunned. Crushed. Heartbroken. Her words had been vicious, like surgical scalpels, mercilessly excising his emotions like a cancer. Not only were they completely out of character for her, but they were a denial of everything they had ever been to each other, and of everything that he was.

Suddenly he seemed to have awakened in a different world, one much darker than the one he had gone to sleep in.

Kit approached the door to Baloo's small apartment tentatively. Something was going on between Baloo and Miz Cunningham. They hardly spoke to each other yesterday and the tension in the office had been physically palpable. Enough so that he and Wildcat had both found things that needed to be done away from the office. Even Molly, who normally rode the bus from school to Hire for Hire and did her homework there while waiting on her mother, took only minutes to decide to head home on her own. No surprise, she called him later that night to discuss it with him, but she had no more idea than he did, and their respective parents were both as quiet as the most dedicated of mimes.

Today Baloo had called in sick. But adding to the bizarre, he hadn't called Miz Cunningham. He called Kit to speak to her for him. And although she would never tolerate such a thing, Miz Cunningham had barely raised an eyebrow and spoke nary a word, not then or throughout the day. Whatever it was, it was in everyone's best interest for Kit to find out, and help Baloo work it out, as quickly as possible.

He was standing at the door, working out in his mind the finishing touches of his plan to approach him before knocking when a loud crash arose inside the apartment, followed by cursing and several loud bangs. He quickly pounded on the door, his alarm overwhelming his caution. It was yanked open a few moments later by a very cross-looking Baloo.

"You okay, Papa Bear?"

His expression softened. "Oh, it's you. Yeah, I'm all right."

"Of course it's me. Who'd ya expect?"

His mouth worked silently for a moment. "Someone else."

"Mmm hmm. Mind if I come in?"

"Yeah, sure." He stepped aside and as Kit entered the apartment, he immediately noticed water all over the floor in the dining area and a large pot lying at the end of the short hall. He could imagine what had happened.

"You bowling with stock pots in here?" he asked.

"Just a little accident."

"Little enough that I could hear it down the hall. Baloo, what's going on?"

"I was moving the pot from the sink and dropped it. Temper flared and I kicked the thing down the hall. No big deal."

"That's not what I meant." He folded his arms and gave Baloo his sternest look. Apparently circumstances favored the direct approach.

"Well then what do you mean?"

Kit's only response was to add a raised eyebrow to the stern look.

"What?"

"Baloo, are you that clueless or do you think I'm that clueless?"

"I guess it's me."

"What's going on with you and Miz Cunningham?"

His face darkened like a thunderstorm. "That I'm not going to talk about."

"Well I don't see you've got much of a choice."

"The hell I don't."

"Baloo, whatever happened, if you think no one's noticed you better think again. It's painfully obvious, and I do mean painfully. If you don't want to talk to me about it fine, but you need to find someone to talk to and quickly."

"The very last thing on this earth that I want to talk about is that…that…," and he used a word that incorrectly identified her as being a female canine instead of a female ursine. Kit was taken aback. He'd heard Baloo use a number of colorful descriptives when referring to Miz Cunningham, but never that one.

"Baloo, listen to yourself! And you don't think you need to talk?"

"I didn't say that, kid. I may need to talk, but I don't want to talk!" His expression changed from anger to anguish. "Just…just leave it alone!"

Kit put his hand on Baloo's shoulder. "Papa Bear…let me help."

"There's nothing you can do!"

"I can listen."

He held Baloo's gaze for a moment until the older bear couldn't maintain eye contact. He sighed.

"Kit…it just…I…she…" He took a deep breath. "It started like this…"

And he told him the story. Kit's own emotions ran the gamut and he was only peripherally involved. He could only imagine what Baloo was going through. He'd always been the type to cover pain with rage, and as he talked he began pacing around the apartment, cleaning, organizing, and every movement was forceful. Items were jammed into place rather than set into place. Cupboards and doors were slammed, and the longer he talked the more his voice rose until finally he opened the refrigerator, retrieved two lagers from a six pack and slung the door shut hard enough to move the large appliance back a half inch. He opened both, kept one for himself and handed the other to Kit (who wasn't old enough, but Baloo could care less if they were in private).

"And that was it. She left. Just like that."

There was a long silence as they stared at each other, sipping the icy beer, as Kit considered his response.

"Baloo…I don't know what to say. Honestly I'm shocked. I'm glad you two finally got together, frankly I've been expecting it for a couple years now. But her reaction doesn't make any sense, and it's completely out of character. Have you considered there might have been a reason for the way she acted?"

"It don't matter. Nothing can excuse that. She cut me deep, Kit. Real deep."

"I know she did. And no, it doesn't excuse it. But consider that you might cut her a little slack; give her a chance to explain herself. Maybe it was an aberration."

"Kit, right now, that woman doesn't even exist as far as I'm concerned."

"Hard attitude to take with your boss."

"True. Which is why I've about made up my mind to quit."

"You can't!"

"The hell I can't."

"Look, Papa Bear. That's a knee jerk reaction. Do me a favor. Not for her, or Higher for Hire, or even for yourself. For me. Give it a week. Before you do anything rash, say anything you might not be able to take back. Think about things for a week."

Baloo regarded him for a long moment.

"Please, Baloo. Just one week."

Finally, he nodded.

"Thanks, Papa Bear. Tell you what: I'll go talk to Miz Cunningham, without letting on that I know any of the story, and see if I can't convince her to talk to you, explain herself to you."

"Do what you want, Kit. But I don't know that I would speak to her, or even acknowledge her presence."

"And I won't ask you to. But just remember: you promised you'd think about it."

Baloo nodded. Kit turned his bottle up and drained the remainder, then tossed it in the trash can across the room with a spot on jump-hook.

"Gotta run." He extended his hand. Baloo grasped it firmly, then pulled him into a bear hug.

"Thanks, Kit. For everything."

"No problem."

"Love ya, kiddo."

"I love you too, Papa Bear."

Kit broke the embrace. "If you need anything, I'm just a phone call away."

Baloo nodded as Kit pulled the door shut.