Stan doesn't want the public to know him and Ida moved to a small place. He wants some privacy and rest after that short scary stroke. We made a deal, with all people, Hal Roach Jr.! Something about fairytales an' whatnot. It's funny, 'cause no one liked Babes in Toyland when it came out and now they want us to basically make a show centered around similar stories? Fickle people.

Stan has many thoughts. A man with a filled brain such as his, it is necessary to have space and needs met. The studio let him go along to bars, clubs and with other women, notably that French actress, Alice. Everyone knew we spent time together, but Hal and the investors "gave us space" and had us do other things with other people so it wouldn't "look a certain way". We already had different hobbies, however we shared our hobbies and time together when we could.

It was 1938... A terrible year. Stan's brother died from a freak accident at the dentist, Ruth and him were arguing more, Alice just gave him what he wanted and Hal was about to kick him out of the studio.

Stan and I hadn't seen one another in almost a month and a half, 5 or 6 weeks. He nearly scared the soul out of my body. All I heard was a car horn honking, over and over. At first I thought I was dreaming, then my servant woke me up telling me Stan was in the driveway parked sideways in a car. He rarely drove, so I knew it was something serious.

Jumping up in just my underwear and holding close a thrown on robe, I ran to the outside of the house, waved my free hand at him, which for some reason, made him honk more and beckon me with his free arm. For about a good loud, honking, 30 or so seconds we beckoned to each other. I surrendered and went over.

I didnt know if I was entering a car or a unwashed bar. Booze and vomit perfumed the upholstery. Before I could close the door, Stan tore off at a scary speed, parking at the side of the road only a few blocks from the house.

"They are trying to tear us apart, Babe. Hal gave me my walking papers..."

"What-Stan, what are you-"

"I'm no longer a employee at the studio. Not wars, wives, bandits, but a movie studio..."

"Stan..."

"A movie studio broke us up..."

"Stan! I'm right here..."

"He said that I wasn't good for the studio, you or anyone. That I just need a break on a sandy island somewhere. DAMMIT HAL! ALL THE YEARS I GAVE YOU!"

"Stan! Stan!..."

"Babe... What am I good for? I broke hearts... The mother of my children... A drunkard... All these thoughts and feelings, that's all I know, thats all I act on".

"So I'm not worth anything to you...? Little Lois doesnt adore you...?"

Stan sat there with his hand on the wheel. His head dropped as he started to sob. I jumped out the car and went to the passenger seat. Stan yelled at me and asked if I was leaving. Wrapping my arms around the man, he soon released what seemed like decades of emotion in vibration and tears, within my arms.

We woke up in the car a few hours later with a police officer tapping the window. I popped up in a fright, quickly collected myself and shook Stan awake. We waved at him, nodded my head and patted Stan's shoulder to drive to back to the house. Through the corner of my eye, I saw Stan's then separated wife, Virginia Ruth.

Her arms were crossed tightly as she stared daggers with us driving to my home.

We both stepped out the car slowly, with our heads down like in one of our movies as Ruth came to us. To this day I never asked Stanley if he was mad at me for leaving him to fend for himself as I walked into my abode. I feel kind of bad, nonetheless even though they were separated, they were still a married couple and it was not my place to get in between their relationship.

I thought he was mad because he didn't come over that weekend or the next after that. We met up for our last filming together, doing foreign versions of the movie we filmed before Stan got the boot. Stan had seemed a bit on edge that day. Everyone knew what had happened between him and Roach, and that we were loyal to one another with or without contract.

The both of us were heavy smokers, but Stan smoked more than a train that day, saying absolutely nothing to me between scenes. Everyone shook hands with Stan, and Stanley went hugging up the girls, making Ruth mad. I thought she was babysitting him. Even though they were separated at the time, she was a good gal and is still friends with him and Lois to this day. I know she will always love Stan.

I suppose no one had anything better to do than to draw off and target old, Babe. At least that is the way I felt.

Stan left me a typed written letter, like he would sometimes after filming. I burnt it as instructed every time. It told me to meet him in the place where we 'rolled and laughed'. It was that backlot trailer.

I left the studio and came back in the black of night, for the life of me I cannot remember what time it was, but it was before 11pm. Before knocking on the door, I heard shuffling around and noticed rose petals leading up to the trailer. The widows had thin red curtains, the sound of soft music could be heard. I figured he wanted to talk with me in a "comfortable" setting. A smile weighed heavy on my face as I knocked, but that would soon be washed when heard Stan yell, 'no, wait'!

Stan opened the door with his clothes disheveled and face that would of gave milk a run for its money.

As I tried to step on the last stair, he put out his open hand as to stop me. Stanley did his best to fill up the doorway, but he was never the thickest man. From his right side and behind him, I could see what he was trying to hide. I felt Stan's eyes freeze on me as I froze into a disappointed shock.

"Babe... Babe, listen... I can-"

Before Stan could place one finger on me, Mr. Keaton came up from the bed and wrapped his arms around Stan, laying himself on his back. Buster rested his head on Stan's, smiling like a shark with a steak.

The tears filled my eyes, as my slow head shake at him turned to a rapid pace. I turned and walked quickly away hearing Stan shout my name. I could barely hear Buster say "If you two aren't together, then why is he concerned with you?"

I heard the familiar footsteps run up behind me, with the predictable apologetic voice calling "Babe, Babe!"

Snapping forward to Stanley, I stopped him from coming any further. We have a connection, he knew not to come anywhere near me and knew when I was serious. I never felt so alone. Like, I lost my soul, as if I was a walking, empty body.

"Babe, would you listen?" Stan pleaded.

I looked at Stan, then at Buster leaning in the doorway in nothing but a hand held together shirt, gray wool tall socks and heavy smirk as he looked on at us. Nodding my head, I waved to Buster and told him to take care of him. I blinked my tears out with a few sniffles and could hear the tears translate in Stanley's voice. He rushed up to me before I could fully turn away.

"Babe, please, Babe, Please!" Stan pleaded and cried.

I put my hands in my pants pockets, looked forward and away then sighed. I wiped my eye and nose, tapped my foot and shook my head, putting my hands back in my pants pockets.

"Babe... I had no idea he was going to be here. He just came to the trailer. I thought Buster wished to talk about something else and then all of a sudden he started to take off my clothes. I did not do anything with him, I swear! He was just in there for literally 15 or so minutes."

"But you did not stop him or kick him out..." I answered in a low tone.

"I was trying to convince him that I was with you, that I AM with you."

I nodded my head and told him it was ok, without looking at Stanley. Then I turned to him, placed my hands on his shoulders and looked deeply into his reddened blue eyes.

I absorbed him with my eyes, breathed in and out deeply through my nose.

"It didn't have to be this way...-"

"Babe, please,-no... NO, I SWEAR!"

"You are a good father, creative and one of the smartest men I have ever met. I will always care for you as a person and professional partner. However this is too much."

"Look, Babe.-"

"Stan... It is too much..."

There was a pause like time was rushing and stopped. Stan's mouth was agape as he realized I had put my foot down. He then snapped away from me, walked halfway back to the trailer and then turned towards me.

"That's it then, yeah? No Laurel and Hardy nor Stan and Babe...? IS THAT IT!? HUH!?"

I stood there for a moment, shook and nodded my head softly and then went to him. He stepped away, but I caught him with my hand.

Taking Stan's face into my hands, I leaned in and kissed him lightly and lovingly. His face vibrated in warm muffled tears. I kissed him as if giving back all the feelings that he planted within me... Or at the least tried to. I released my lips from his and then placed my palms lightly on Stanley's shoulders. His head was down from what I can remember, he was breathing so fast I thought he was going to make himself pass out.

"Arthur... Arthur... Goodnight..." I told him.

HIs crying became more vocal as we both knew I was out. I called over Buster with a wave and he took the sobbing man away. I stood there until they both walked into the trailer, then I was on my way with a floating, empty calm.

A broken heart is like a broken mirror, it can be mended, glued, what have you, but the cracks will always be visible.