Act Four: Broken Beaver

"Where da heck has you been?" I half shouted half whispered. "And why do you still look like...you?"

Beaver looked down for a moment, as he fidgeted in his chair. I wondered why he was avoiding my question. And why it had made him so nervous. As if reading my mind, he finally spoke up, still not making eye contact.

"My dad found me shortly after da day I met you'se. He was a scientist, ya see? He dedicated most of his life ta finding a cure ta agin'. A way ta freeze time in a person, so's dat dey remain young foreve'ah. He was da reason I ran away from home. I figured life on da street was bett'ah den bee'in his guinea pig.

"But da day he found me, he had finally figured out a way. He strapped me ta a table an put a breathin' mask on my face. I saw da tank connected ta it had the radiation symbol on it. All I could do was watch as he turned da valve. But tanks to my pocket knife, I managed to cut da straps an escape." Beaver went quiet again and before continuing he began to nervously rub his temples. "He didn't care dat I was his son. Dat fact meant noting ta him. He only saw me as an opportunity. And so I had ta do it. I had ta do it so no one else would go trough what I did." Beaver started breathing heavily and he began to tremble.

"Beaver, what did you do?" I asked, not entirely sure I would like the answer. At that moment, Beaver looked me in the eye for the first time. I didn't like the look on his face. He was scared and I could tell whatever he did, must have affected him greatly. He wasn't the carefree kid I met on street all those years ago. No, that kid was gone and I knew I would never see him again.

"I... killed him." That was the moment when Beaver's flood gates opened and tears streamed down his face. He just sat there and hid his face, sobbing as softly as anyone who had a traumatic experience could. He began choking in between sobs and people were beginning to glare at me, as if I was the one causing Beaver all this pain. I gave them a nervous smile and tried comforting my old friend by softly patting him on the back.

"It's ok pal, don't cry. I know you're scared, but I'se here for ya's." Beaver nodded and began to calm the water works. He removed his hands, revealing a bright, red, and sticky face, damp with both tears and mucus. I gave him some napkins, and he cleaned his face before continuing.

"I destroyed my fadder's research by startin' a fire in da house. He didn't make it out alive. And now... I will live forev'ah wit his blood on my hands." he said as his gaze returned to the floor.

"Wait. What do you mean 'live forev'ah'?" Beaver looked up and shook his head.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"What's dat spost ta mean? It can't be dat bad." Beaver sighed deeply before saying something I'll never forget.

"I'm immortal now, Race. I can't die." I could tell by the cold seriousness in his voice that Beaver was telling the truth. Still, it took me a while to wrap my mind around the idea.

"By immortal, ya mean like forev'ah and ev'ah, fountain o' youth immortal?" I asked. A slight nod was his answer. "So what is you gonna do now?"

"I don't know's. So faw you'se da only one who knows what happent. No one else can know. You have ta promise not ta tell anyone. Can you'se do dat?"

"O' course."

"I mean it Race! No one. Absolutely no one."

"Alright, alright; I promise not ta tell." A long, awkward silence followed. "So," I said bringing up my first question. "Why is you here?"

"Ta help you'se." Beaver replied.

"How?"

"By tellin' you'se ta move on. You should still go ta dat ball; jus go wit someone else."

"But, I really like Gabbs. Movin' on won't be dat easy." I protested.

"I know but, she's datin' Crutchie. You can't jus go ta da ball wit somebody elses girl."

"Unless...she doesn't know it's me!"

"What?"

"Look, it's a masquerade ball, Beaver. I'll jus go an pretend ta be Crutchie!"

"But, he's already goin' wit her. You can't jus go up ta her an act like Crutchie when he's already dere. Surely she'd know who da real Crutchie is?"

"What if he wasn't dere?"

"Race, no. Don't be getting some hairbrained idea."

"What if I figured out a way ta keep Crutchie away from Gabbs during da ball?"

"Damnit, Race, would you'se listen ta me! It's a bad idea, don't do it!" But I completely ignored him.

"Dis has ta work."

"Race. You can't pretend ta be Crutchie forev'ah? Sooner or lat'ah, she's goin' ta figure out it's you!"

"Yeah, so?"

"Don't ya tink she'll be upset?"

"Nah, dis plan is fullproof." I told him as I got up and began walking out of the Deli.

"But, Race..."

"Don't worry, pal. Everyting will be jus fine."

"I'se not sure about dat..." Beaver sighed.

Heya guys! Here's Act 4 as promised. Sorry it took so long. A lot has happened this year and I've had a bad case of writer's block. Everything is good now and I will resume writing after the holidays. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year my fellow Fansies!

Your friend, - Cara