Chapter 10

Fred walked in large circles around the entire neighborhood for hours, ignoring the biting cold and hunching into his coat as best he could. As he passed lighted windows, he peeked inside to see families enjoying dinner or watching TV together, maybe working a puzzle or talking. They all looked happy, or if not happy, at least content to be at home with people whom they cared about. But he couldn't quite face going back to the apartment. It wasn't his home and never would be. He didn't have a home.

Never had one, really.

His former life as a mortal, many years ago, had very rarely even crossed his mind in the century after becoming an imaginary friend. There was no reason for that miserable existence to enter his mind, not when his life was full of fun, of magic, and of making things better for people. So it was curious, after all these years, to suddenly be rummaging around in memories that he'd assumed were long forgotten, and feeling things he'd never thought he'd feel again, worrying about things he'd thought he'd never have to worry about again.

He abso-fucking-lutely hated it.

For the millionth time, he inwardly cursed Cosmo and the Powers That Be for having done this to him, for making him mortal again. Same shit, different era, that was all. Still, he couldn't quite bring himself to wish that they'd done the opposite - released his spirit into whatever realm it went to after death. There were things tying him here to Earth.

Or rather, someone.

He helped keep himself warm by replaying last night's kiss over and over in his mind. He tried to stop himself - really, he did - but it was impossible. The way the light had struck Elizabeth's face as she leaned towards him, the curve of her cheeks, the feeling of her hand on the back of his neck, the smell of her soap and her perfume intoxicating him. Her soft lips - just a hint of sweetness coming from her lip balm - the slightly bitter tang of the beer she'd been drinking, the intimacy of the moment in feeling all of her leaning against all of him, came back in a rush again and again, and unending tidal wave of wanting.

He tried in vain to shake himself out of it. He tried to tell himself that it was an accident, just as Snotface had said, a wild moment of abandon fueled by alcohol and nothing more. He was certain she didn't have any feelings for him in that way, and therefore it was completely ridiculous to want so much of her, because he could never have it.

Anyway. He was Drop Dead Fred, even if he was mortal now. And Drop Dead Fred didn't need anything, or anyone, to get along in the world. He'd survived by his wits before, and he could do it again if he needed to.

When Elizabeth had shown up in front of his holding cell at the station, the shame radiating from him was palpable. The way she'd looked at him - half pity, half anger - mortified him. Sometime after his dozenth rejection from job hunting that morning, he'd gotten the bright idea to repay Elizabeth for his food and board by swiping the money from someone else. She'd never be any the wiser, and he purposely tried to find someone to rob that looked like he wouldn't go hungry for having lost his wallet. But when he'd delicately reached into the man's back pocket, the man had swiveled around like a robot, latching onto Fred's hand, and immediately locked him in handcuffs. The entire episode - from approaching the man to being slapped in irons - took about four seconds.

How the hell was he supposed to know an undercover cop could look so well-off? Things had certainly changed.

The cold finally became too much for him around midnight, and he crept back to the apartment, careful to shut the door quietly. He snuck a peek into Elizabeth's room to find her fast asleep, snuggled up in bed. He'd silently gotten into his own bed on the pull-out couch, and fell into a deep sleep.

He awoke the next morning to frantic shuffling of papers, and opened one eye to spot Elizabeth in the kitchen flipping through stacks of papers as though looking for something. He sat up, scratched and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"Just so I'm clear," he yawned. "Are we on speaking terms today or not?"

Elizabeth shot him an even look. She was too emotionally exhausted to argue with him this early. "I guess," she said. "But I'm still mad as hell, Fred."

"Fair enough," he acquiesced. "Shall I try making breakfast again?"

"No, thanks. I can't afford to remodel my kitchen after you burn it down."

"Well, you're a little ray of sunshine this morning," he quipped, standing up and stretching. "How were Fartpants and Buttbreath?"

A pained look crossed Elizabeth's face but she tamped it down as best she could. "Fine. Both fine." She paused. "Marcia was there."

"Who?"

"Nat's mother."

"RIGHT! The Rich Bitch. I remember her," Fred said, ambling over to the kitchen unhurriedly. "Still dripping diamonds, is she? Still looks like she shits gold bars and pisses champagne?"

Despite her anger, Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh a little. "Pretty much." She got quiet again for a moment. "She's...uh...moving back to town. Wants to be close to Natalie again."

Fred nodded in approval. "Well, I never liked Rich Bitch all that much, but I'm glad she wants to mend fences with Buttbreath. Buttbreath seemed rather stuck on her for some reason."

"Fred, it's her mother."

"What're you rifling through, anyway?" Fred bit noisily into an apple, figuring that would do for breakfast. "Something for work?"

"No, uh…" Her face fell. "I was fired yesterday."

"For what?" Fred cried indignantly.

"As it happens, the straw that broke the camel's back was leaving early to bail my childhood imaginary friend out of jail."

Fred's eyes fell to the floor and he was quiet for a moment, chewing thoughtfully. A murmured "Oh," was all he could offer.

"Yeah." Elizabeth sighed. "So I'm trying to find a copy of my resume to plaster the city with today."

"Listen, how about this: by the end of the day today, I promise I'll have a proper job, right?" Fred said simply with a shrug, taking another bite. "And so will you. And we'll make Fart Goblin take us out and buy us celebratory drinks."

Elizabeth studied his bright, earnest face for a long moment. Despite hardships thrown in their way, she was amazed at his optimism and spirit. She found herself smiling. "All right," she agreed. "You're on."

"Yeah?" Fred cried happily, grabbing her hands. "It's a deal?"

She laughed. "It's a deal, Fred. And you can start paying me back that goddamn bail money."

.

.

Elizabeth met Janie for lunch at their regular Italian place, but she was too disheartened to have a real appetite; an entire morning spent dropping into every law office in the city had netted her exactly zero interest from any prospective employers. Fred had left the apartment shortly before she did, reiterating his promise to have a job by sundown. For the first time since she could remember, Fred looked...well, contrite. Usually his apologies were quick and flippant, amounting to little more than false promises to get him back in her good graces before immediately reverting to whatever behavior had incited her anger in the first place, but his tone, and his body language, seemed to indicate otherwise this time.

It was almost as if he were scared.

"Well, I imagine it would be a little scary," Janie said after Elizabeth had relayed this discovery to her. "I mean, you've only been out of the working world for what, less than twenty four hours? And already you've seen how hard it can be to land something. Imagine having gone decades without a real, actual job."

"He'd argue until he was blue in the face that being an imaginary friend is a real, actual job," Elizabeth said, playing with the straw in her water. "But I made him promise not to mention it. He's going to have a hard enough time as it is without a new boss thinking he's completely insane."

"He'll pull through somehow, and I'll get that charge dropped. But enough about Fred. I want to hear about this date with Mickey," Janie said as she scooped some pasta onto her plate.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "It was...I don't even know what it was, to be honest. Marcia was there, like she was the host of a party or something. I don't think I'd ever been so uncomfortable."

Janie's eyes widened. "The ex-wife went on the date with you?"

"It wasn't so much a date," Elizabeth replied, squirming uncomfortably in her chair. "Marcia cooked and served the dinner at Mickey's house, and it was like I wasn't even there. She's also staying there now, for a little while."

Janie nearly dropped her fork. "What? Lizzie, you can't be serious!"

Elizabeth found herself trying to rationalize Mickey's behavior: "Janie, listen. Marcia really wants to reconnect with Nat, and so she's staying at the house for a few days until she can find her own place. Just for a few days. I believe Mickey when he says they have no plans on trying to patch things up or anything. I mean, they've been divorced for a year now. Over a year. Plus, Mickey is putting up with this whole Fred and I thing, so I feel like I have to put up with the him and Marcia thing."

"Yeah, but as far as I know, you've never slept with Fred. You've never been married to him. It's a totally different dynamic." Janie shook her head. "Listen, it took me years to learn how to vocalize when something wasn't ok with me, when a situation made me feel like something wasn't quite right, even when everyone else around me told me I should be totally fine with whatever bullshit was going on." She looked Elizabeth directly in the eye and said, "If it makes you uncomfortable, tell Mickey. He should at least know how you feel."

Elizabeth sighed. "Part of me feels like I'm losing him." She looked up at her friend soberly, trying to make sense of her own thoughts. "And part of me is ok with that. And I don't know why."

Janie shrugged. "Honey, when in doubt, follow your gut. Follow. Your. Gut."

.

.

Thought Janie protested being dragged out to a local watering hole that evening - claiming that she did actually have a life outside of you two, you know - she arrived at the apartment shortly after getting off work, where she found her best friend pacing the living room.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"Fred's not back yet. Where could he be?" Elizabeth began to ring her hands worryingly. "I don't know where he is, if he's alright. He's been gone since early this morning. Do you think something could have happened to him?"

"Lizzie, calm down. I'm sure he's fine," Janie said, plopping down on the sofa. "Maybe he found a place that let him start today and he's not off yet."

"Maybe," Elizabeth murmured, though she didn't sound at all convinced. She had just started toying with the notion of calling the police when Fred suddenly burst in with a holler of greeting and wrapped Elizabeth in a bear hug.

"Snotface!" he bellowed. "I did it! I found a job!"

Elizabeth looked down to find he was wearing a blue jumpsuit with the name 'Earl' on it. "Where did you find a job? And who's Earl?"

"Earl's the bloke what had the job before me," Fred explained quickly, dusting his jumpsuit off with his hands proudly. "He fell off a ladder and broke his head or something. Anyway, I got his job!"

"Doing what?" Janie asked, looking at the filthy jumpsuit. "And where?"

"Right here at this apartment complex!" Fred crowed. "I'm the new repair man!"

"Repair man?" Elizabeth echoed. "Fred, do you know anything about maintenance and repair?"

"Nope!" Appearing nonplussed, he sat down next to Janie. "The hiring man said if I was a crazy enough bastard to want the job then he wasn't going to try to stop me." He beamed up at Elizabeth. "I start in the morning!"

Elizabeth tried to appear upbeat; she supposed everyone had to start somewhere. "That's - that's great, Fred. Congratulations."

"Not sure I'd want to live anywhere that has you as a repair guy, pooka-man, but it's a paycheck if nothing else," Janie said. "So are we going out to celebrate, or what?"

"As long as you're buying, Fart Goblin. Only real reason to hang out with two girls all night."

"Fred."

"Hm?"

"At least change your clothes first, ok?"

This done, the trio headed to a local place and found a table in the corner. Janie and Fred were soon absorbed in a competitive dart game, each egging the other on with insults and profanity. They even got Elizabeth to join the game, and soon all three were laughing and hollering as their beers were quickly drained and the music got louder. Elizabeth almost forgot how angry she was at Fred and cackled with glee when she beat him twice in a row at darts.

Needing to sit down for a bit, she relinquished her turn in the game and returned to the table.

"Hi there," a purring voice came from behind her shortly thereafter.

She turned to find a large man with sandy-blonde hair and bright green eyes smiling warmly at her. He nodded down to her almost-empty glass of beer. "Will you let me buy you another?"

"Oh, I'm not - I mean, I have a boyfriend. He isn't here tonight, but I doubt he'd like a stranger buying me drinks."

The man's smile broadened. "I didn't ask if you had a boyfriend. I asked if I could buy you a drink."

A year ago, even if Elizabeth hadn't been married, she would have simpered and let this slide, so used to having others think and act for her. She stole another glance at Fred. "Listen, let's be real here," Elizabeth said, turning back to the man next to her. "A guy walks up to a woman sitting at a bar and asks to buy her a drink. He's not looking for just a friend. So I thought I'd save us all the bullshit. I can buy my own beer."

The man looked crestfallen for only a second. "I admire forthrightness. In a girlfriend or a friend." He, too, glanced over at Fred. "And I'm not looking to step on anyone's toes tonight. I'm sorry if it came off that way. I'm Mark."

"Would you excuse me?" she abruptly said. "I need to visit the ladies' room."

On her way to the bathroom, she passed a payphone, and before she even really thought about it, she was dialing Mickey's number.

She heard Nat and Marcia's laughter first, and then a laughing "Hello?" from Mickey on the other end.

"Mickey?"

"Lizzie! Hi! What're you up to?"

"Just out with Janie," she said over the din of the music. She figured a little white lie couldn't hurt. "Just wondering how you and Nat were doing."

"We're having a family game night, and Nat is wiping the floor with both me and her mom!" he chuckled, and Elizabeth continued to hear laughter in the background as her heart sank slightly. She'd started the tradition of family game night, and some part of her smarted from not having been invited. "I don't know what tricks you taught this kid, but she's the best Clue player I've ever played against!"

Clue. Elizabeth had taught Natalie that game. She closed her eyes. "Well it - it sounds like you guys are having a lot of fun. I don't want to disturb you."

"You're not disturbing anything!" Mickey said, though it didn't sound whole-hearted. Elizabeth could tell he was eager to get back to the game. "Do you - you want to come over?" This, too, sounded half-hearted.

"No, no," Elizabeth replied quickly. "I know Nat has to be in bed soon. Just tell her I said hi, would you? Have a good night and - and I love you."

"You too, Lizzie. Night!" And with that, Mickey was gone.

She stalled in the bathroom for a while, going over Mickey's last words to her. He didn't say I love you, just you too when she'd said it. Sighing, she made a fierce face in the bathroom mirror. She wasn't going to be that person - she wasn't going to use silly, off-hand words to get upset over. Mickey loved her. He'd said it a thousand times before.

That was going to have to be good enough for now.

Heaving a sigh, she slung her purse around her shoulder and opened the door to slip out.

And slipped right into Mark's arms.

"Hey there, I thought you'd left me!" he murmured playfully, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"What the hell are you doing?" she hissed, squirming to get away from him.

"Oh, come on now! All this silliness about a mysterious boyfriend who just happens not to be with you tonight?" His laugh was wet and gurgling; the laugh of someone well on the way to drunkenness. "You don't have to lie to me, sweetheart. Like I said, I won't bite." His arms tightened. "Not unless you want me to, anyway."

The vestibule by the ladies room was, she realized with a dawning fear, dark and out of sight from the rest of the bar area, and an exit door to the alleyway was directly to her left. Mark's arms were strong, and she knew all it would take to get her out that door and into a dark alley with a stranger was just a few tugs by this horrible man.

"Please just let me go!" she said, this time a little louder.

"If you were my girlfriend, I'd never make you sit at a bar alone," he purred, leaning down and nibbling at her neck, pulling her close to him.

Elizabeth was just about to let loose the most blood-curdling scream she could muster when suddenly it seemed as though Mark was torn away from her as if by hurricane force winds, and his expression betrayed surprise as he was whirled around to face an irate red-headed man.

Fred shoved him against the wall, his face like flint, his eyes fiery. "Just what in the hell do you think you're doing?!" he growled in a deep, gruff voice Elizabeth hadn't even realized Fred possessed.

Mark, perhaps realizing that he had no real line of defense, shoved Fred. Fred, Elizabeth noticed, didn't move an inch when shoved; he was like a brick wall standing between her and this cretin. "Hey, just how about you mind your own business?" Mark returned.

Fred didn't move but shot back, "Not fucking bloody likely."

Mark threw the first punch, and though he was physically bigger than Fred, Fred dodged his fist with ease and landed two on Mark's face before he could even stand up straight. The larger man lunged towards him, grabbing Fred by the collar of his coat, and reeled his fist back to strike again, but Fred took advantage of his stance and socked the man deep in the stomach, followed immediately by an uppercut under his chin. The audible crunk of lower teeth meeting upper teeth made Elizabeth's stomach turn.

With a snarl, Mark held steadfast to Fred's collar, and though winded, managed to smash his rock-hard fist into Fred's face twice - boom, boom - and then land a third strike to Fred's ribs. People had begun to gather around the pair, and the bartender had already started calling the police. Fred dodged a fourth strike, turning around and in one motion cracking his right elbow into Mark's ribs, swiveling on his heel and then landing a knockout punch to Mark's cheekbone.

The larger man's eyes rolled in his head and he slid down the wall, barely conscious and murmuring as blood seeped from his nose. Fred stood over him, panting and bleeding from cuts on his face and nose, and turned to Elizabeth.

"Snotface," he panted. "You all right?"

Janie didn't wait for Elizabeth's answer as she grabbed both of them frantically and pushed them towards the exit. "C'mon, Muhammad Ali, we've got to get out of here!" she cried. "Let's move it, ándele, ándele!"

It was past eleven by the time the trio arrived back at Elizabeth's apartment. All three had been mostly silent on the short car ride back, with Fred rubbing his already aching-face and Elizabeth shivering in the backseat, her emotions a jumble. Only Janie ventured to speak a few times, saying things like, "I'm a lawyer, Lizzie. Just say the word and I'll sue that guy back to the stone age," and "I think we got out of there just in time, kids. You were arrested yesterday, Fred, and although I could probably get you out of that, getting arrested again today wouldn't look too hot, even if it wasn't your fault."

Elizabeth realized it was just Janie's way of being concerned for them. Janie wasn't the type to say normal things like, I'm so glad you're all right! Nope, with Janie, it was always something along the lines of, I'll sue that guy for everything he's worth! Pro bono! C'mon, it'll be fun!

"Listen, are you sure you two are going to be ok?" Janie asked, hanging out of the driver's side window as Fred and Elizabeth started to make their way up the sidewalk leading to the apartment. "I wasn't kidding about a lawsuit."

"It's fine, Janie," Elizabeth said quietly.

"He's going to need a few bandaids. Maybe even a few stitches."

"I'll take care of it."

"Call me in the morning, Lizzie. You hear me? Call me."

"I will, I will," she promised, backing away from the car. Fred stood listlessly in front of the door, waiting for Elizabeth to unlock it, rubbing a cheekbone. Her face crumpled in concern as she fumbled for her keys. "Come on, Fred. I've got a first aid kit inside. Let's take a look at the damage, ok?"

"I'm ok!" Fred protested, though even in the dim light of the hallway Elizabeth could see the sheen of drying blood on his face. Her heart seemed to constrict in her chest at the sight. "Really, Snotface, I don't need anything."

"Yes, you do," she countered in a worried voice, pushing the door open and pulling him inside. She pushed him down into one of the kitchen chairs. "Wait right there," she commanded, then went to the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit. When she returned, she flipped on the overhead light and gasped at Fred's face.

Mark's fists seem to have caught Fred on his right cheekbone and on the left side of his nose, leading up towards his left eye, which was already starting to change color to a light purple. Blood seeped from the wound on his cheekbone and one on his nose, though it didn't appear broken. Swallowing hard, her hands shaking, she somehow managed to get the kit's lid open and sat down on the chair next to him. Frantically, her vision blurring with tears, she sifted through the materials, trying to find some hydrogen peroxide and cotton balls. She suddenly felt a hand on hers, and looked up to find Fred watching her carefully.

"Lizzie, I'm ok," he repeated in a softer voice. He tried to crack a smile and failed. "It wasn't my first fight, Snotface. Don't get upset. It was sort of nice to spar with someone who could actually see me for once."

Against her will, a small sob escaped her and she reached for the box of Kleenex on the table. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I just - I haven't see you hurt since the Pill Fiasco, and it's awful. I forgot how horrible it is to see someone I care about hurting, especially because of me."

Fred's face softened a bit and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "It wasn't your fault," he assured her gently. "And it was no problem, Snotface. I would have faced a hundred of 'em for you." He sat up straighter, embarrassed that this last sentence had slipped out, but Elizabeth only smiled and wiped her tears away.

"Sit still," she directed gently, pouring a little hydrogen peroxide on a cotton ball. "This might sting a little."

She dabbed at the bloody areas, making Fred wince, and wiped away the blood. Seeing that the cuts weren't deep enough to necessitate stitches, she breathed a sigh of relief and tenderly placed a few bandaids over the cuts. "There," she murmured. "Now let's see your ribs."

"What?" he asked indignantly. "Why?"

"Fred, you might have broken a few of them. Just lift your shirt and let me look."

A warm tingle seemed to run through Fred at her words, though he tried to ignore it. He seemed to wrestle with his thoughts for a moment before gingerly lifting the side of his shirt to bear the ribs on his right side, where Mark had struck him. This time it was Elizabeth's turn to wince at the bluish tint of his ribs. She ran a clinical hand over them, making Fred jump. She looked startled.

"Did that hurt?" she asked in a concerned voice.

It hadn't - in fact, he'd barely felt it - but the contact of Elizabeth's hand on his skin had sent another jolting warm tingle up his spine that he hadn't been prepared for.

"Breathe in deeply," she instructed. "Tell me if it's painful."

He inhaled deeply, and although it made his ribs ache somewhat, they definitely weren't broken or fractured. He shook his head. "Shipshape, Lizzie. They're fine. The stupid git wasn't as strong as he looked."

"Are you sure? Because I mean - "

"Listen, I have had broken ribs before, Snotface," he said somewhat impatiently, pulling his shirt back down. "And it hurt a whole hell of a lot more than they hurt now. Like I told you, I'm fine."

She was studying him carefully. "Fred, can I ask you something?" she asked slowly. "You said it wasn't your first fight, and that you've broken ribs before...I mean, where? When? I - " She shook her head, her thoughts in disarray. A million questions that had floated around in her head since Cosmo's visit roiled just beneath the surface. "Mark was so much bigger than you, but you laid him out in thirty seconds flat. I mean - "

"I'm a scrapper, Snotface. Always have been," Fred explained simply with a bit of bravado. "It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog. Right?"

"Especially when you feel like you're fighting for something or...or someone?" she asked quietly, her eyes finally meeting his and seeming to pierce deeply.

Again he swallowed hard, his voice failing for a moment, and averted his eyes. "I never could stand seeing you being mistreated, whether by your mother or Charlie-Boy or some shitstain in a pub."

"I know," she agreed, small tears beginning to spill over her eyelids. Before she could stop herself, she'd pulled Fred into her for a hug, and they said there in silence in the small dining area for a moment, holding each other tightly. "I'm glad you're here, Fred. I don't think I've told you that enough since you came back."

He held her closely, closing his eyes and breathing in the scent of her perfume. "You're getting sappy, Snotface," he pointed out, but his tone was not unkind. "I think those beers went to your head."

She gave a sniffling laugh in return and pulled back slightly until they were face to face. Fred froze, their eyes locked on one another. Another warm jolt blazed up his spine, while Elizabeth seemed almost entranced by being this close to him. They seemed to study one another for a long moment, and it took everything that Fred had in him not to push forward and let his lips find Elizabeth's.

But she'd been clear; it wasn't that him she loved.

Reluctantly, he broke away and gave her a small smile which she returned. "You'd better get to bed," she murmured. "First day tomorrow and all." He nodded somewhat absently as she stood up and began walking to her bedroom. "And Fred?" She turned around. "Listen...thanks for tonight...for looking out for me."

He gave her another small smile. "Told you before, Snotface. It's what I do. It's why I'm Fred. Mortal or not."

Her last glance of him was Fred sitting at the table, one light on, staring into space, looking faraway and dreamy.