Chapter 2

The only lighting in the new apartment consisted of the harsh overhead lights typical of every small apartment in the city, casting a bright electric glow over everything in the bedroom as Elizabeth made the bed with the sheets she had purchased on her way there that night. The scratchy, cheap sheets and the empty apartment around her produced a deep melancholy in her, and she wondered for the umpteenth time that day whether she had made the right decision in leaving.

It hadn't been a bad year, after all. She'd gotten a well-paying job as a paralegal in a law office after taking a few night classes. Her mother was still in her life, but hadn't been causing much trouble as of late. Fights with Mickey were rare, and she had no real complaints about him as a romantic partner; he was sweet-natured, considerate, and loved her with everything he had in him. So why did that sometimes feel like it simply wasn't good enough?

Because it's dull, a small voice at the back of her head told her, and she sank down onto the bed. It was a thought that had reverberated in her brain a thousand times and had led to this moment, sitting on a stiff new mattress placed unceremoniously on the floor and a stiff new couch in the other room, surrounded by boxes and suitcases.

Why did it feel like after only a year, they had gone as far as they would? That they had experienced everything there was to experience? Why was she so absolutely bored of their life? Of him?

"He's a good man," she'd told Janie a year ago after she'd announced to her best friend that she was moving in with Mickey. Janie had shaken her head and said, "I didn't ask you if he was a good man, I asked you what he was like."

And she never could really answer that.

Mickey was a good man. He worked hard. He cooked pancakes for all of them on Sunday mornings. He said all the right things and laughed at her jokes. He was a good father and a good provider. He never so much as looked at another woman in all the time she'd known him, and he merrily went along with all of her eccentricities, bad jokes and big dreams. He was handsome. He'd held her while she cried over the dissolution of her marriage, sympathized with her whenever her mother was being...well, her mother, and was unfailingly respectful and supportive.

That would be enough for any sane woman, she'd told herself. It should be enough for her, she'd sternly reminded herself many times over the past year.

And yet here she was.

Natalie had sobbed as Elizabeth left the house that night, and Elizabeth had very nearly sobbed right along with her. She cared a lot about the little girl and was conscious of the fact that she was a kind of stand-in mother for the girl. Not even the antics of Nat and Fred had ever caused Elizabeth much consternation.

Cries of "Fred did it!" had echoed through the house constantly over the past eighteen months, usually following some catastrophe. When Natalie and Fred had decided one day in June that the house could use a new coat of paint, and proceeded to spend the afternoon throwing the multicolored contents of half-empty paint cans from the garage at the side of the house, Elizabeth had soothed Mickey with promises that it was just a childish prank, that Nat hadn't meant any harm, and that the kid down the street who was looking for odd jobs could be persuaded to re-paint the side of the house for fifty bucks and a free lunch.

On the day of Natalie's eighth birthday party, as neighborhood kids swarmed in the backyard wearing cardboard party hats and throwing confetti, Nat and Fred had slipped away to concoct a birthday surprise of their own in the form of small fireworks stuck into the birthday cake. As Mickey lit the supposed "candles" on the birthday cake, his attention momentarily distracted by one little party goer using the hydrangea bush as a makeshift toilet, all hell broke loose as the cake quite literally exploded into a thousand mushy pieces of yellow cake and frothy white frosting all over anyone standing within ten feet of the thing. Again Elizabeth calmed Mickey, dragging him into the living room as they both dripped frosting, and explained (very convincingly, she hoped) how this was all just making memories, and it was just cake for heaven's sake, and did you see the look on little Susie Atkins' face when that cake exploded?, and no one got hurt so what's the problem?, and wouldn't they miss this sort of thing when Natalie was all grown up?

Because of course she knew. Of course she knew what it was to have Drop Dead Fred as a playmate, as a protector, best friend, and fellow hell-raiser-in-arms. She knew what it was to wake up early on a Saturday morning to have a wild-eyed head crowned with flaming orange hair grinning down at you, ready with a new make-believe game, ready with a new adventure, just waiting for it to start if only you'd get out of that bed! She knew how Fred worked, and although the unexpected was to be expected when dealing with Fred, she had more experience than anyone when dealing with Fred.

Her Fred. Nat's Fred.

Elizabeth had spent far more time wondering about Fred than was perhaps entirely sane. Did Fred have charges that changed when the charge became old enough? How many charges had he had before he'd become a part of her life? Who assigned Fred to a child, and how was it decided? Were there certain types of children who simply needed imaginary friends, ones who would even be open to having an imaginary friend? Was Fred a real person, perhaps of some other dimension, or was he just a spirit, a sprite of some kind, drawn instinctively to children? If so, was he mortal in some way, or would children have Drop Dead Fred as a playmate until the end of time, whenever that was? When Fred had spoken to her of his "home", where was that? Was it an actual place, or did it simply mean he was in a dormant state somewhere, somehow? And if he'd been so connected to her own mind, as the Pill fiasco had shown when she'd nearly killed him, how was it that an entirely different mind, in the form of Natalie Bunce, was able to see, hear and interact with Fred in exactly the same way that Elizabeth had? Elizabeth's father had been British; is that why she'd always heard Fred's voice as a British one? Was it some sort of unresolved problem with her father, something she'd never been aware of? She often gave herself headaches if she pondered these questions too long. That never stopped her.

"Gotta stop thinking about this stuff," she sighed, sinking down onto the bed and shutting off the lights, not even bothering to change out of her clothes.

Small sobs filled the room for hours after Mickey had tucked Natalie into bed, still clutching the bunch of bed sheets she'd been convinced would prevent Elizabeth from leaving. Not even all of Fred's terrible jokes and tricks had managed to cheer her up, and Fred had finally given up, curling himself up on the floor in the corner like a dog, eyes closed but ears listening in case Nat called for him. He knew from experience that there were times when not even all of the fart jokes in the world would cheer a kid up, and that sometimes, a kid just needed to cry herself out. But that didn't mean he would even think of leaving her side tonight.

At least until Cosmo A-Go-Go suddenly blinked into the room.

"Heya Freddie!" Cosmo chirped, his bright blue hair shining even in the dim nightlight. Fred's eyes snapped open and landed on his fellow imaginary friend and he bolted upright.

"Cosmo!" he hissed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Just thought I'd drop in and say hi to my old buddy," Cosmo said with a wink which blinded Fred momentarily. Cosmo A-Go-Go was undoubtedly the most glittery of all of the imaginary friends Fred had ever met. As usual, he was dressed head to foot in a rhinestone suit that would have made Liberace jealous and topped with outrageous neon blue hair swooped up into a bouffant.

"Whaddya mean, 'drop in and say hi'? I haven't seen you in nearly fifty years!" Fred retorted, climbing to his feet and placing his hands on his hips. "Not since you got promoted and became a bureaucrat, at any rate! What's the matter, someone forget to dot an I or cross a T on a contract somewhere?"

Cosmo bristled only slightly at this – he was quite proud of being the snazziest-looking bureaucrat in Limbo, thank you very much – and touched his bouffant with an air of delicacy. "Well! That's no way to greet an old friend! I come with a message from The Powers That Be, so you'd best listen, Fred. Can we go somewhere and talk?"

"I can't get back to Limbo now," Fred said, motioning to Nat, who now slept soundly in the bed, oblivious to the nighttime visitor. "She's too riled up. Hang on." Fred snapped his fingers, and both he and Cosmo materialized in the living room downstairs. "All right, there. This had better be good. I hate bureaucrats, you know."

"Well, we're not so crazy about you either!" Cosmo shot back. "The Powers That Be told me to give you two messages: First, that Natalie Bunce won't need you too much longer, Fred. So it's time to have The Talk with her."

Fred looked confused. "But isn't that something her dad should do?"

"Not – oh, for heaven's sake, not the The Talk. I mean, The 'I-won't-be-around-forever-because-someday-you-won't-need-me-anymore' Talk."

Fred snorted. "Cosmo, for fuck's sake, just tonight the kid was in very real danger of flooding the house with her tears. Did the Powers know that?"

"Of course! That's how they know she won't need you too much longer!" Seeing the indignant look rising on Fred's face, Cosmo continued, "Natalie's growing up, Fred, and things like this make kids grow up faster. She's eight and a half now, and already a little too old for an imaginary friend. She's got her father, and she has this Elizabeth that you seem so stuck on - "

"I am not stu - "

" - and she'll realize very quickly that none of this is her fault. And that's partially down to you, old boy! Great job!" He patted Fred awkwardly on the shoulder, making Fred scoff. "The point is, Fred, your job is almost finished with her, and then back to Limbo you'll go for reassignment."

Fred seemed to hesitant for a few moments, a look of worry etched on his face as he began to pace. He shook his head vehemently. "No, no. I disagree," he sniffed haughtily. "Buttbreath is going to need me for at least another year yet, at least."

"Oh, Freddie, Freddie, Freddie." Cosmo's saccharine tone of voice made Fred fume silently. "Do you really think me and the Powers That Be don't realize what's going on?"

"Oh, what, that I care about my charge?" Fred growled sarcastically with a jeer. "Oh yes, how terrible of me, how simply awful - "

"It's because you'll lose your access to Elizabeth Cronin as soon as you're reassigned," Cosmo interrupted calmly. "And you know that."

Fred stopped dead in his tracks and tried his best to effect an obstinate expression on his face. He sputtered momentarily before finally saying, "That's ridiculous, Cosmo. Snotface is an adult. Besides which, she hasn't been my charge for over a year now, and even then it was only due to a bureaucratic fluke." He stared daggers at Cosmo.

"Listen, it all worked out in the end!" Cosmo retorted defensively. "In fact, from what I've heard of the situation, it was a damn good thing you were still technically assigned to Elizabeth Cronin when she found you again! And anyway, you'd never formally parted from her! Rules are rules, Fred, and if you don't formally part from a charge - "

" - then you spend twenty-five years in a jack-in-the-box because Cosmo the Glittery Bureaucrat decrees that rules are rules, despite the fact that it's impossible to formally part when you're trapped in a box!" Fred barked. "Besides which, you didn't even erase her memory! She still knew who I was when I came back!"

"As you said, you never formally parted from her when she was a child, so the erasure never happened," the bureaucrat huffed. "And you know full well we can't erase an adult's memory! A child's brain and an adult's brain are two different animals. But you did eventually formally part with Elizabeth Cronin. And I am here to remind you of that." Cosmo stood up straight, hoping he looked very important. "The Powers That Be are concerned that you are entirely too attached to your former charge. On numerous occasions, you've left your charge Natalie specifically to spend time near Elizabeth, despite the fact that she is no longer your charge, despite the fact that she is an adult, and despite the fact that she can neither see nor hear you. You must sever that connection, Fred."

"Or what?" Fred grunted.

"Or we could have a situation on our hands," Cosmo replied enigmatically. "A few times it's happened that – well, look, never mind, it's not important. But because you and she were previously bound, a remnant of that connection will always remain. That's why you must be so careful. She has her own life now, and you have a new charge that should be your focus."

"Oi!" Fred stuck a finger in Cosmo's shining chest. "Natalie Bunce is my focus. No harm has come to her. Not once."

"We know. You've done a wonderful job as always, Fred. And that is why your time with her is coming to a close." He touched his bouffant once more and gave him a gleaming grin. "Try to have The Talk with her in the near future, all right? And perhaps I'll see you in another fifty years."

With that, Cosmo blinked out and Fred was alone in the living room. He sighed in an irritated way and wandered distractedly around the room, his eyes finally falling on a picture of Mickey, Elizabeth and Natalie. He snatched it up, staring at Elizabeth's smiling face, running a finger over her form. "Damn. Damn, damn, damn," he muttered darkly.

"Fred?" a hushed voice called down the stairs. Fred put the picture down and raced up the steps to find Natalie in her room packing a backpack.

"There you are!" she whispered. "I've decided I'm running away, Fred."

"What?" Fred dropped to the floor beside her. "Why would you want to do that? It's great here. Your dad makes pancakes on Sundays."

"I want to go to Lizzie's," Natalie replied as she threw a sweater into the backpack. "I miss her."

"She'll be back before you know it, Buttbreath," Fred argued. "I'll freeze my natters off out there. Come on, let's go back to sleep."

"No, Fred!" Natalie whined, continuing her work. "I've made up my mind, and I'll leave with or without you."

It occurred to Fred that this phrase perhaps indicated that she didn't need him as much as she used to, but he quickly pushed that thought out of his mind, deciding that once the little girl stepped foot outside, she'd decide to turn right around and crawl back into her warm bed. He heaved a sigh. "Well, all right. But we'd better take a crossbow with us."

She stopped her work momentarily and looked up at him. "Why?"

He looked at her as though she was daft. "Because of the Nine-Headed Turd Monster outside. Don't tell me you've never heard of the Nine-Headed Turd Monster?"

Natalie pursed her lips skeptically. "You made that up, Fred."

"No, I didn't!" Fred bickered, surprised that she had refuted him so easily. "It's horrible! All brown and smelly! He scoops you up with one of those cat litter scoopers and sneezes all over you, and then you're covered in poo!"

Natalie rolled her eyes. "Stop being silly, Fred! Help me make some peanut butter sandwiches. Dad'll be getting up soon."

He halfheartedly helped Natalie make three sandwiches which were packed away and eased open a window in the living room, helping his charge out onto the lawn and skittering down the street beside her, babbling stories about the Nine-Headed Turd Monster the whole way. After almost an hour, they were at the edge of the neighborhood and the journey had already taken a toll on Natalie, who yawned deeply.

"I'm tired, Fred," she muttered.

Somewhat relieved, Fred hid her away behind some bushes, made sure she was unseen from the street, and as soon as Natalie was asleep, he blinked away across town just as the sun began to peek from the horizon.