"Stan... Let me speak with him." Requests Mr. Keaton.

He stood a few feet away from the partners, with Stan's arm wrapped around Babe, the other hand on Babe's lap, both his hands patting and trying to soothe Oliver's racing, deepening thoughts. The two were sitting on a bench in front of a fountain, the mist feeling numb and cool to the both of them.

Stan quickly looked at Buster, then sighed at Babe. He lowered and rolled his head back, finally landing back within Oliver's view. Oliver, laced his fingers together, looking down at them. His lips were tightened and slightly turned in realizing they were at a public event, but mostly within his feelings.

Buster walking up with hands in pants pockets, swallows and sighs.

"May I sit down?"

Stan looks up at Buster, rubbing Babe's back. "It depends on what you are going to say."

"Stan... I'm slightly hurt. We have been... Friends for years, you asked me to talk to him and I will not say why else you wanted me here until you tell him your part. I understand it is something you wished to do and if I didnt care about your feelings I wouldnt have came."

"Buster-" Stan starts.

Buster raises his hand to stop more words from Mr. Laurel. He then sits opposite Mr. Hardy on the edge of the fountain, slightly to his left, behind the bench. Buster puts his hands close to his lips, laces them together in a ball and then drops them between his open lap. Keaton rolls back his eyes and head searching for the words to start. Buster's eyes rests on the back of Babe's grey head.

"Stan... Leave us." Buster demands.

Stan and Oliver look at one another. Oliver lightly smiles with a nod. Stan brushes himself off as he stands up slowly with a groan.

"I wont be far. In fact I will call Ida and then see about the events for tonight." Mr. Laurel states.

Stan leans forward, kisses the top of Oliver's head and looks down at Babe lovely. Stan then snaps his gaze to Buster with a face that could crumble iron, with a nod that was understood between them and then walks away reluctantly.

Babe turns toward Buster halfway on the bench. His eyes at the level of Buster's knees.

"Well... What is it, Buster? And by the way, good morning."

Buster looks down at his watch, crosses his arms on top of his crossed legs, looks at Babe and says, "It's actually past, twelve, honey bunch."

Babe kisses, his teeth, shakes his head and starts to turn away when Buster reaches out his hand, patting on Oliver's shoulder.

"Ok, ok. Look, Stan ask me to be here to talk to you. Both of you hate the past, however, there are things that we feel bad about in our bygone lives. Stan wanted you to know about the time when you weren't talking to him. And what really happened when you... walked in on the two of us in back in the late 30s."

Oliver rolls his head away from Buster, stands up and shakes his head. Buster goes over to Babe, stands in front of him convincing him to sit down. Buster sat a few inches from Oliver, with his ankle on top of his knee, a elbow resting on the back of the bench and the other on Keaton's lap. Keaton scratches at his fingernails on his hanging hand, looking forward.

"I knew that Stan had something planned for you and him. I was steaming with jealously more than a kettle in Satan's kitchen. And so was Ruth."

"Ruth?!" Oliver says in curiosity turning his head to Buster whom nodded.

"Ruth..." replies Buster.

Oliver turns his sight forward, blinks a few times, shakes his head slightly and sighs.

"She knew it was almost the end of their relationship, at least for the first time, and also knew you two were... Are very close. She hired a private investigator, me, to stalk the both of you, mostly Stanley, and found only one-third of the time he said he would be working he actually was. It was either fishing for comfort with another woman or with you. I saw the way he acted with those dames, playful, wild, half drunk. With you... It was kind of like the beginning of his marriage with Lois. He was stable, happy and... Just free..."

Buster nods, then lowers his head with his mouth slightly agape. "You gave him something that no one else did, no matter how hard we-anyone tried... Freedom, comfort, loyalty and love. His wives had tried and so did the mistresses. It was a mix of religion, society standards, the studios, upbringing, and the cherry, of course, him losing his mother on the brink of him becoming a man.

A wife to come home to, some women to have fun, give him a jump, but you. I know for a fact if things were different... It would just be the two of you.

He loves both of his Lois's, the mother of his child, his daughter and grandchildren, every man, most men wish for a bloodline that is theirs, that could also be a apart. What all those women did not have, Oliver... Was you. Whatever you have, Stan needs. And desperately so!"

Later on Buster and Oliver sit outside of a café on Disney grounds, in a private corner. Buster looks down, tapping his expresso, Babe picking at a fruit bowl, with fork in hand.

"Ruth drove me to the studio that night. We sat in the car and waited for Stan to go toward the trailer. according to my connections, I knew that he bought some romantic things, but it was not for his then wife and he never showered any of his girls with such gifts."

Hal Roach Studios, 1938.

"He turned on the lights. There, you see that? All of the other staff left the studio and the gates are locked. You're going to have to use your skills to go over that wall next to the trailer." Ruth said sitting in the drivers seat of a dark car.

Buster looked over Ruth, then at the wall she wanted him to scale. It wasn't winter, however the wind around them was cold. The darkness of the night grew around the conspirators.

Buster was determined like a kite flying unattached to break whatever bond and magic the team Laurel and Hardy had on and off-set. He quickly climbed the wall, went to the studio dressing room and saw Babe Hardy's lights were on. He wanted to break the door, burn down the room, he was filled with rage at the two of them being alone like this. He quickly figured out what he would do.

"Good eveling, Mr. Hardy-I-Buster... BUSTER, what are you-" Stan said in shock seeing Mr. Keaton and not his Babe.

"Good evening, Stan. May I come in?"

"Buster, I don't know how you got in the lot but you must-"

"Thank you!" Buster said bursting past the shocked comedian.

Stan snaps to Buster, then looks around outside and then closes the door behind him, locking it. Buster starts taking off his clothes as he sat on a romantically decorated bed. Stan rushes over to him trying to stop him, but then Buster starts taking off his clothes in a very slapstick manner not unlike either of the two men's early movies.

"DAMMIT, BUSTER! I thought you understood I'm with Babe! He is apart of my life! He is..." Stan stopped himself, looked down breathing heavily.

Buster continued to take off his clothes, opened his shirt and then looked at Stan with curiosity and a light smile.

"What... What is he, Stan...? Or is it that within that wild heart and head of yours you don't know how to feel. Or is it that you are afraid to feel...?"

Stan pauses, looks at buster through the corner of his eyes then back down at the floor.

"Well, Stan...?"

"Buster... you need to go. Whatever it is about Babe and I, it is between us. I wish to have you as a friend and nothing more. Yes... Babe is important and means a great deal to me. Now you have to-"

Just then the door knocked. Buster looked at Stan with a shrug and a smirk. Stan's face turned ghostly white as his attention went between a mostly naked Buster Keaton sitting in bed with him, his clothes disheveled and Babe knocking at the door.

Stan bravely opened it and the inevitable happened. Within moments, Stan was dragged back into the dressed trailer, weeping heavily into his hands. Buster closed the door behind him, sat Stan on the bed and then sat next to him.

Ruth sat in the car, tapping her fingers on the drivers seat. She then noticed a upset Hardy rushing to his car. Whatever Buster did, worked. She was satisfied with a smirk and satisfaction on her face.

Back in the trailer, Stan suddenly bursts up and started ripping up the surroundings. Keaton tried to take Stan into his smaller frame as the raving man ran around the small trailer tearing down the romantic décor. Suddenly Stan snapped to Buster. A cold chill went down Keaton's spine as Stan looked at him wide eyed and wild.

Clinched fist, reddened face and breathing heavily, Stan was out for blood and his gaze fell on Buster.

"Stan... Stan, listen. I didn't think you were so-."

"Get out..." Stan said in a low, gravely tone.

"Stan lets talk-"

"There's going to be blood, Buster.-"

"Hold on, Stan-"

"Oh, not yours…"

Stan turned to the mirror, punching the glass, breaking it. He then took a piece and put it to his throat. Buster jumped on him, wrestling the glass away from the lost man. Stan falls on Buster's shoulder weeping until he passed out.

Stan woke up in his house, hours later with Ruth sitting in bed, turned away from him.

"Was the night everything you wanted, Stanley?"

"What... What are you- Ruth."

"You never dressed our home in romance and comfort!"

"Dammit, woman!" Stan flew out of bed, dizzy, blurry-eyed and running on fumes.

Ruth shot out of bed nodding her head with her fists tightened. Her eyes like daggers at her cheating husband. The room was in the darkness of the morning. Ruth too agitated to sleep, thoughts swimming with what else he was doing with his close friend, Mr. Hardy, stayed awake next to her passed out husband, waiting to confront him.

"Haven't I lost enough?! Now you go and..." Stan said.

"I WAS ALWAYS HERE, DAMMIT! WHY... Why couldn't you go to me like your women, and I suppose Him!" Ruth cried.

"I thought we could live together, be happy, not worry about life. Yes, I have done things outside of our marriage, but instead of solving it you do this. I did not help, I admit, but this... This was not the way. I swear, If I lost that man... If Babe doesn't talk to me... it will..."

"What..."

Stan shook his head, dropped it and wept. Even though Stan had put their relationship through many things, she still loved him. She was spiteful, bitter and angry. If Stan did something, she would confront him with anger and vengeance.

Ruth went to her sobbing husband wrapping her arms around him. Stan pushed her away and left the room. Ruth soon heard the noise of Stan breaking things in their house. She yelled and screamed at him to stop.

Later within the deep yellow of the early morning she found him at the kitchen table. Bottles of every alcohal were scattered around and on top of the table.