Sharing the Magic
By Auburn Red
A Fraggle Rock U.K. fanfic
Summary: Fraggle Rock U.K. fanfic. A sequel to "Connected by the Magic." After a loss, the Fraggles realize that it's time to share the magic with P.K. and help heal the rift between their British Silly Creature friends for their sake and the sake of the Rock.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They belong to Jim Henson Productions. This is for fun and to help promote the late lamented Fraggle Rock UK (BTW: BFI release the episodes so they can go on DVD/Blu Ray and maybe on the Internet so we poor Americans can see them too! D). The lyrics to "The Friendship Song" and "Follow Me" are by Phil Balsam and Dennis Lee. Since the Internet information is scanty on these fine British Silly Creatures, much of the background information and personalities are based on my observations and theories about these two. If anything is blatantly wrong, please let me know.
Author's Note: This is dedicated to the memories of Jerry Nelson (1934-2012), Gerard Parkes (1924-2014), and Fulton MacKay (1922-1987). Thanks for being a part of a wonderful series that touched us for over 30 years.
Chapter One: Can't Keep Those Worry Blues Away
Gobo was planning his latest expedition into Outer Space to an amused Sprocket and an actually-interested-but-pretending-to-be-bored Red. "So Red the way I see it is if we get inside those animals that Silly Creatures carry with their hands, we can go exploring beyond the Gorg-like Castle." Sprocket shook his head barking in "here we go again" manner. Sometimes the dog felt like a babysitter when the hyperactive and easily amused Fraggles ran around the hotel/castle and his master, B.J. was on his rounds.
Red started. She was afraid to explore beyond the castle, but she didn't want to own up to it. "Yeah sure Gobo, you would never do it!" Red challenged. "Those animals would swallow you in their stomachs faster than you can say the Solemn Fraggle Oath! Besides you'd be too scared."
"No I wouldn't," Gobo said. "Watch the next Silly Creature who comes by with a Carrying Animal then we'll see who is brave enough to jump in!"
"Oh yeah," Red said.
"Yeah," Gobo repeated.
The door to the bedroom flew open as Red and Gobo's British human friend, B.J. Birtwhistle entered with a carry-on baggage in his hand. "You were saying?" Red taunted pointing to the "Carrying Animal" in B.J.'s hands as he stuffed overnight traveling clothes and other things inside.
Gobo gasped frightened that B.J. appeared to be feeding the Carrying Animal and didn't want to be its next meal. "Hey B.J.," he asked friendly. "What's going on?"
"Hi Gobo, Red," B.J. said. He sounded rushed. "I don't have time to talk now. I have to leave."
The two Fraggle friends exchanged glances. "Where are you going?" Red inquired. "On some adventure?"
"Can we come?" Gobo asked excited to see this new world up close that Uncle Matt told him about.
"No, I'm afraid not mates," B.J. said. "I'm off to a funeral of someone I hadn't seen in some time now." Temporarily, his movements slowed as he mechanically packed his bags. He wasn't sure how much the Fraggles understood. "A funeral is what happens when someone dies-"Maybe he was going too fast. "Death is-"
"We know what a funeral is," Red objected. "It's sort of a party when someone that you love isn't around anymore. You honor the good things about them and the times you had."
Gobo nodded. "We had one many, many days ago for the World's Oldest Fraggle. Well he's not the World's Oldest Fraggle anymore." He added sheepishly. "I guess he's the World's Most Recently Deceased Fraggle, but that's too long a name."
B.J. looked confused. Some things that the Fraggles said were highly unusual and he was learning to take such comments in stride. He knew that they had emotions, but were often very child-like and joyful when they had them except for Mokey who was very introspective and Boober who was a born worrier. Death to them was simply one more adventure that the Living didn't get to go yet.
B.J. nodded. "Well I found out today that he died and I want to go honor him, to pay my respects to his family, and to make up for-to say I'm sorry."
"What did you do?" Red asked curiously.
"It's not something that I did," B.J. answered. "It was something that was done to him and I was a part of it or rather my family was. I never got the chance to apologize."
The Fraggle friends looked surprised. B.J. and their North American friend, Doc, were the nicest humans, okay the only humans, that they ever knew. What could he have done that was so terrible that destroyed another Silly Creature? "I can't talk now," B.J. said. "I have to go." He leaned down to his dog friend. "Sprocket, you wait here! Mrs. Gibbons will look after you." Sprocket barked in protest. He didn't like being left alone any more than the Fraggles did. "No, Sprocket," B.J. commanded. "Wait here! You can't come this Captain's funeral is no place for a dog-"He winced. He momentarily forgot that the Captain was Sprocket's first owner.
Sprocket's face drooped and he whined and barked in sad protest. He galumphed on top of B.J.'s carry-on like a small child. He even sort of crossed his front paws in defiance as if saying "if I don't go, you don't either." There were tears in the dog's eyes and he whimpered remembering the old sailor/lighthouse keeper who used to play chess, loved bird watching and the sea. How could B.J. stand there and think that his grief was greater than Sprocket's?
Sprocket whimpered. "Oh Sprockey, I'm sorry," B.J. said petting his furry friend. "You never got to say good-bye to the Captain either did you? You can come." He said. "Mrs. Wiggit said that she'll put me up for a couple of days. I'll call her and see if she'll take two. And you'll get to see P.K. again!" Sprocket panted excited. "Red, Gobo wait here," he told the Fraggles. He turned to make the phone calls to Mrs. Wiggit and Mrs. Gibbons.
"Here's our chance," Gobo said to Red. He wrote a quick note to Mokey, Wembley, and Boober and threw it in the Fraggle Hole. The note said that he and Red were on an adventure with B.J. and Sprocket and will be back soon. Gobo zipped open the carry-on bag and put one foot inside. "B.J. sounds like he's in trouble. Maybe we ought to go help him."
"Now look Gobo you don't have to get eaten to prove you're brave," Red whimpered.
"Do you want to come?" Gobo asked. "Or are you scared?"
"I'm not scared," Red bickered. "Just don't come crying to me after you've been digested!"
Gobo held open the flap confused. "How can I come crying to you after I've been digested?"
Red was flabbergasted. "Well- Uh-None of your business!" Red said after not finding an answer as she came in after him and shut the flap behind them.
"Well that's that then," B.J. said as he hung up. He put some of Sprocket's things like his food dish and toys in the bag missing the grunts of pain. "Gobo, Red?" He called. When he didn't see them in his room, he shrugged. "They probably went back in the hole. Anyway, I got time off, got Sprocket's things, my things, called Mrs. Wiggit, Mrs. Gibbons. Called the care facility, so they can tell me if-well I'll look in on Dad after the funeral."
He mentally went over the items on his to-do list, then sighed. This to-do list seemed longer every day. He looked at the stack of past-due bills. He hadn't even made a dent in the debts that his father owed and he was working to pay off. He knew that when he returned that he would have to work more hours, more rounds, maybe even talk Mr. Pettijohn, the estate manager, to give him more responsibilities.
If that wasn't bad enough, B.J's father's health was deteriorating. The people at the private care center would tell B.J. If he had fallen off the wagon again but how soon would it be before the next blow fell?
B.J. felt overwhelmed. The only ones that he talked to were Sprocket and the Fraggles and they wouldn't understand his problems. Maybe, he could wire his American friend, Doc, but he had already given him money which he insisted that the young man did not have to pay back. The younger man was too proud to ask for any more. B.J. had no one to talk to or share his burdens with. How could a person be depended on by so many people (and in his case dog and Fraggles) and still feel so alone?
Well, he thought, stiff upper. No use worrying about it now. He cleared his throat and picked up his carry-on. "I guess we're ready to go." He connected Sprocket's leash with his collar and gently led him out of the bedroom, carry-on bag in hand. He locked the door and wasn't listening to an embarrassed and sheepish male Fraggle voice saying "Garbax, gumbage, whoopee."
B.J. opened the door to his temporary bedroom in Mrs. Wiggit's rooming house. Well appearing in Fraggle Rock Island again had not been nearly as bad as he thought it would be. No one threw him out of town on a rail or tarred and feathered him, yet. Mrs. Wiggit had been as kind as ever and told the young man to "never mind what people say, laddie. It's good you're here." I wish I could never mind, B.J. thought. B.J. watched as Sprocket looked out the window at his old home. Because of his sense of smell and hearing, the dog could tell that things were different in the village. He also was coming to terms with the loss of his old friend. The dog's nose moved up and down and he barked sadly as if asking where the people were that he knew.
B.J. dressed in his Midshipman Royal Naval uniform for the funeral, then sat on the bed motionless. "It's not the place you remember is it, Sprocket?" he asked. "It's not the place I remember either. I haven't been back here in such a long time."
Sprocket barked in agreement. B.J. absently patted his friend trying to hold back any emotion, as he unzipped the bag. He gasped in surprise as an orange male Fraggle and a yellow female Fraggle emerged from the bag. "We survived getting digested," Gobo caught his breath. "I thought we'd never get out!"
"You thought we'd never get out, I knew we would the whole time," Red argued. She looked around the room. "Hey getting digested looks an awful lot like hours ago."
"What are you two doing in here?" B.J. said surprised to see his friends. "I told you to stay at the hotel."
"We thought you meant while you were talking to the Talking Creature," Red said innocently.
"Yeah," Gobo agreed jumping on his friend's excuse. "You didn't say anything about afterward."
B.J. glared knowing that they hadn't misunderstood and were being deliberately obtuse. "This is a solemn occasion and I really can't deal with your silliness right now," he shouted frustrated, running his hands through his hair.
Gobo and Red were shocked at what the Silly Creature had said. It was as though he asked them to turn into Doozers. "But we are silly and we thought you liked that," Gobo said.
B.J. sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I do," he said. The Fraggles always did have a talent of cheering him up in the lowest of times. "I'm sorry. You know I've been very tense and have had a lot on my mind lately."
"Isn't that when you need friends the most?" Red asked concerned.
B.J. thought for a while. "I suppose you are right." He smiled. "If I were a smart Silly Creature, I would march you two straight to the lighthouse and send you back through the Fraggle Hole faster than you can blink. But, you came this way and it's a good thing I'm not. Oh well, you might as well come but under these conditions: you remain in my carry-on bag and don't let yourselves be seen and don't cause any trouble."
"B.J. no one can see us but you, Doc, and the Sprockets," Gobo reminded him.
"Well you don't want to take that chance do you," B.J. reminded them. "I worry about you lot. Not every Silly Creature is like Doc and me. Some can be very cruel and unkind.
Believe me, you don't want to meet the cruel ones."
"Are we going to get eaten by the Carrying Animal again?" Red asked.
"It's not an animal, Red. It's a bag. You carry things inside. "B.J. began. When the Fraggles still looked doubtful, B.J. shook his head, "You'll be alright, trust me." The Fraggles shrugged and jumped back in the bag.
The ship had yet to take off when B.J. walked up to the dock to face the mourners. He approached the boat gingerly in his uniform and his bag in hand. Sprocket, sensing the solemnity of the occasion, remained at B.J.'s feet silent occasionally letting out a sad whimper that was only comforted by his owner's reassuring hand on his head. He even wore a black collar that B.J. impulsively bought at a rest area. Many other mourners were dressed in black, some wearing their Naval or seafaring uniforms, others in plain dress. B.J. placed the bag down at his feet and sat far from the front. He could see a few people bear their eyes into him and whisper to each other. He swore he heard one person mutter, "Didn't think he had the gumption to show up." An old-time fisherman spat in B.J's direction. The young man sighed. It was the least he deserved.
B.J. avoided the glances of the onlookers and look out at the horizon of Fraggle Rock Island, the human world that lay above the Fraggle world. He tried his best to ignore the "For Sale" signs on the houses and buildings, the polluted water, and the boats which were more stationary than moving around. He especially didn't want to look at the lighthouse which once held a thousand friendly memories of people running it, including himself, but was now a testament to the cold impersonality of automation. The lighthouse still seemed to work, that he could see, but everything else in the village from the lessening cry of the gulls now reduced in number, to the rainbow colors that emerged from the water, to the now partially abandoned harbor front seemed to say "Your family caused this! It's your fault!"
B.J. winced and looked towards the helm of the boat where the family members, or rather sole family member, stood. A lanky ginger haired man about his age stood at the front next to the vicar. He was dressed in a Royal Naval Seaman uniform and surprisingly his curls seemed to behave themselves, straightened for the solemn occasion. P.K. Barnacle was caught up in conversation and did not see the newcomer and his dog until he heard Sprocket's whimper. He smiled at the dog, but glowered in buried anger at the human.
He purposely avoided B.J.'s sad smile and turned back to the vicar and another man who stood at the helm. In P.K.'s hands lay a blue and white urn with an anchor design. The young man nodded at the sailor as the sailor turned the boat on. P.K. stood with the urn in hand until the sailor stopped in the ocean where the harbor was nothing but a line on the horizon.
The vicar stood. "Thank you everyone for attending this memorial to Captain Barnacle. Refreshments will be available afterward at the Captain's Tavern. Now, his
nephew, Patrick Kenneth Barnacle will present the eulogy. Mr. Barnacle." He nodded at the young man.
P.K. approached the podium, which had been placed on the boat for the funeral. "Thank you everyone for coming and thank you, Vicar Edwards, for that introduction and
helping to arrange this funeral." He cleared his throat as if to bury the emotions. He held up the urn. "As many know my Uncle Captain Fulton Barnacle was a man of the sea. It was his second home, nay, it was his first. The land was just the place he visited for a brief time." The people laughed at the memory of the seafaring elderly man. "He always believed that everything good that ever was came from the sea. It's where we came from, where life is, and where we would go to, eventually. So it made sense to take care of it like you would your family, even if others don't necessarily agree." P.K.'s words temporarily became angry. He glared for a moment in B.J's direction. B.J. looked down in shame. P.K. continued. "I will always remember him as a man who stood proudly at the helm of his ship to face another storm, a man who tended the lighthouse with such care and precision, a man who would always tell of his sailing yarns until you couldn't stand to hear 'em. Someone who took a wayward orphaned lad out of Care determined to make a man of him," He caught his breath. P.K. winced once again. "That's how I want to remember him and that's how I want all of you to remember him as a strong powerful captain who loved the sea. Not the man lying in the hospital who was weak and defenseless, away from his home, nor this-"He held up the urn. "-ashes in a jar. Don't think on that, think on the real man, my Uncle Fulton." P.K. turned away from the podium and moved towards the edge of the stern. He opened the jar and gently sprinkled the ashes into the sea. "Enjoy your last voyage, Captain," he said as he saluted the spirit of his uncle.
The boat landed back on the harbor as the funeral goers headed to the reception. B.J. trailed behind many of the crowd with Sprocket by his side. He could hear a tap-tap in the bag. B.J. opened the bag slightly to hear his Fraggle friends. "Yeah?" he asked.
"That's so sad what that Silly Creature said about his uncle. It sounds like me and my Uncle Traveling Matt," Gobo said wistfully.
"Yeah who knew someone else had a goofy uncle too," Red said affecting some gallows humor to hide her empathetic sadness too.
B.J. nodded. "P.K. and the Captain were pretty close. His folks died when he was a lad and the Captain looked after him. He took sick a couple of years ago and I suppose P.K. returned the favor by taking care of him."
"Definitely sounds like me and Uncle Traveling Matt," Gobo replied. "Well except for him being sick. If Uncle Matt ever got sick, you bet I would look after him."
"I know you would," B.J. said proudly. "P.K. and I went to school together. I used to know him pretty well. We were friends, once."
"Aren't you still friends even if you don't live near each other," Red asked.
"It's more than that," he replied. "There were other reasons." He could feel someone staring at him. A couple of older women pointed and whispered at him. B.J. suddenly felt daft that people assumed that he was talking to himself. "It's complicated. I'll explain later, but he's another reason I'm here." He said as he zipped the bag and he and Sprocket entered the tavern.
B.J. and Sprocket made their way through the crowded tavern. B.J. approached the bar excusing himself between two fishermen. As soon as they saw the young man, they immediately rose and let him pass as though B.J. had some contagious disease.
B.J. called the woman behind the bar, "Doris, a lager please?" The woman said nothing as she poured the drink and practically slammed it down in front of the brown haired man. "Thank you," he said trying to maintain politeness. "They miss my family here you can tell." B.J. said dryly to his dog.
P.K. who up until then had been in a circle with other people sharing a round with laughs and some tears about his uncle, held up a hand to his companions and approached B.J.
He broke into a lop-sided grin as he knelt down to Sprocket. "Hey laddie," Sprocket leapt up barking with delight to his former master. P.K. laughed less annoyed than he pretended as Sprocket practically tackled the young Scotsman. "Alright get off me you brute. I missed you too, boyeen!" He held up a rubber ball as Sprocket playfully chewed on it. "You seem to be alright then."
"Yeah he is," B.J. said smiling shyly hoping that this meant that it would be an easy conversation between the two.
P.K.'s friendly expression dropped as he stood and faced the brown haired man. He glared stone faced at B.J. "I have nothing to say to you!" He turned away as B.J. gathered his courage and grabbed P.K.'s arm.
"P.K. wait," B.J. said. "I'm really sorry for your uncle." He realized how trite it sounded under the circumstances. "I know people just say things like that, but I really am and I'm sorry for everything before that, for how everything ended up."
P.K. scoffed. "It's too late for that."
"I know," B.J. answered. " If there's anything I can do to help you, I want to. I just would like to help you, if we could be friends again."
The ginger haired man whirled to face the other man, his eyes blazing. "You don't understand a damn thing do you? You think a few words, perhaps a few pounds thrown our way, could make up for it? Don't you know what taking away the lighthouse and the oceans did to him? It killed him, you killed him, as surely as any stroke did!"
"I wasn't a part of that," B.J. said. "My father sold the lighthouse. I was sacked too after the owners automated it."
"Did you fight it?" P.K. asked scornfully.
"I tried to argue with him about it," B.J. said. "But the deal was done and there was nothing more I could do or say."
P.K. laughed sarcastically as he clapped his hands. He then doused another drink down. "Why that practically makes you a hero doesn't it that you tried to argue. I am impressed."
B.J. said sadly. "I know it can't fix it. The only thing that I can do is help repair the damage by saying I'm sorry."
"Nothing can fix it," P.K. said. "Nothing can bring back the fish, or the gulls. Nothing can bring this village back or the people and nothing, nothing, can bring my uncle back!" He laughed and held up his glass as a mock-toast. "You can go back to your dad and give him an appraisal of his handiwork!" He took another sip in deep thought. "Oh you can give him something else!" P.K. put down his mug and reached over to B.J. He punched B.J., sending the caretaker to the ground. Some of the other patrons gasped and many even applauded. B.J. rose and looked at P.K. with equal parts sadness, sorrow, and spent anger. He then picked up the bag which fell underneath some chairs when B.J. fell and left the tavern with Sprocket barking behind him.
B.J. waited until he was back in the rooming house before he opened the bag. Gobo and Red jumped from the bag, Red had her fists ready. "Why I oughta teach that Silly Creature some manners!" she shouted. "Nobody hits my friends and gets away with it! I'll give him a knuckle sandwich!" She was about to leave the room as Gobo grabbed onto Red's tail and B.J. held her body to keep her from moving. Red continued to push forward despite the fact that she wasn't going anywhere. "I'm gonna give him a one-two now don't stop me!" B.J. picked up the energetic female Fraggle in the air. She continued to curse and threaten P.K. until she realized that her feet were no longer on the ground.
"Thank you, Red," B.J. said. "I appreciate your loyalty, but it won't change anything."
"Well he shouldn't say things like that about you," Red argued as B.J. put her down. "Lying and saying that you killed his uncle! No one lies about my friends!"
B.J. sank down on the bed surrounded by his dog and Fraggle friends. "He wasn't lying. What he said was true, in a way."
Gobo, Red, and Sprocket looked at their human friend in shock. Sometimes when they were in either Doc or B.J's parts of Outer Space they would watch things called movies or television. Sometimes the Silly Creatures would kill other Silly Creatures on them.
Their human friends would often be quick to explain that it was only entertainment and that the people were acting. But there were some Silly Creature entertainments called "The News," that they said was real. Most of the Silly Creatures on those entertainments who killed others were cruel or selfish. Was B.J. really one of those cruel unkind Silly Creatures that he warned the Fraggles about?
"You killed someone how?" Gobo asked.
"I didn't actually kill him," B.J. said. "It's hard to explain. You see here in Outer Space, my father and I were like the Gorgs. Look out the window." He pointed at the window to a large fancy estate on a hill. "We used to live there. Sometimes when we Silly Creatures live there on the hill, we don't always remember the people who live under the hill like P.K. and his uncle. We sometimes have more money and land than others. My dad even owned the lighthouse and the land around it. When we have that much, sometimes we make decisions that end up hurting a lot of people. We don't always realize that we hurt them until it's too late."
"But you once told us that you don't own the castle that you live in," Gobo said. "You just work there."
B.J. smiled and shrugged. "Well I'm not like the Gorgs anymore. Neither is my dad. We lost our money. My dad had to sell the lighthouse and the properties around this island to bigger people than him, I suppose larger Gorgs."
"I'd hate to see the size of those Gorgs," Gobo muttered to Red. Jr. Gorg was a friend of theirs but it took a long time coming. The Fraggle Duo didn't exactly relish the idea of encountering a Gorg who was larger than their friend.
B.J. continued. "A lot of these new owners came in and some of the things that they did ruined the waters, so the fish started dying. When the fish start dying, the fishers don't have anything to do. Many of the people who make their living by the sea in one way or another like dockers or lighthouse workers end up losing their jobs as well. A lot of people are leaving these islands for other places to fish or other kinds of work and more than likely aren't coming back."
"Like you did," Gobo said.
B.J. nodded. "So what about that Silly Creature's uncle?" Red asked.
"Well some of the bigger shipping companies are squeezing out the smaller sailors like P.K's uncle. He used to keep the same lighthouse my dad owned and where you met me. He tried sailing for a bit after he finished working there. After him P.K. worked at the lighthouse, then after him was me. Unfortunately, the Captain had been phased out and ultimately discharged. Probably they thought that he was too old to sail. He became sick shortly afterward probably because he couldn't do what he loved. It made him sad to the point where it made him sick, I suppose."
"But that still doesn't give him the right to punch you," Red said. "You didn't do any of that!"
"No," B.J. agreed. "But P.K. and many of the other people in the village are angry and they just want someone to be angry with. Perhaps they blame me for my father selling the island or maybe they felt I could have done more." He lowered his head. "I should have done more. At the time, all I could think of was my own situation that I wasn't going to be working at the lighthouse anymore and had to find another position and my father-well he is sick too now. Now, it's all a mess. It is my fault and I can't fix it. I don't even know how. I can't even fix my own life."
Gobo and Red reached over and touched their friend's hands. Sprocket leaned on his legs. "It's not your fault, B.J.," Gobo said to his friend.
"We're still your friends, it will be alright," Red reassured him. Sprocket leaned against B.J., his head lay on his owner's lap. The two Fraggles tried to cheer up their human friend by singing "The Friendship Song:"
Remember when,
Now and then,
Everything went wrong?
And then our friends would sing,
The friendship song.
Remember, We sang, You work all night. Try a little longer, Life comes up. Try a little longer, Remember when,
You and I,
We'd nearly cry,
To know their love was strong,
And by and by,
We'd start to sing along.
Try a little longer,
For your friends.
Try a little a stronger,
For your friends.
You work all day.
You still can't keep,
Those worry blues away.
For your friends.
Try a little a stronger,
For your friends.
Life goes down.
There's just one way,
To keep it,
Going 'round.
For your friends.
Try a little a stronger,
For your friends.
Now and then,
Everything went wrong?
And then our friends would sing,
The friendship song.
B.J. smiled trying valiantly to hold back his tears. "Thank you," he said as he circled Red, Gobo, and Sprocket in a hug. It didn't offer any concrete advice to B.J's problems, but it was always good to know that he had friends who cared, even if they were furry.