Hey Readers!

So this chapter is probably one of the most important ones that will come out of this story. Sorry if that sounds kind of dramatic, but I think it to be true. Now, with the canon timeline complete, everything else that will follow will come from my imagination. I'm kind of nervous about that, no longer having a canon timeline to use as a guide with my story, but I am ready to continue with this story, and I know it will be something worthy in the end.

This chapter is dedicated to my grandmother, Joan, who passed away nearly two weeks ago. May she rest in peace.

Enjoy the chapter!

Note: Conversations in Italics are signed unless otherwise stated, and words in BOLD are in Japanese.

Robbins and Rogers

Jeffrey Robbins knew his nephew was going through a troubling time, and after much debating and a few phone calls, he decided to bring Elijah along on his weekend trip to Pittsburgh.

The blind author never really thought of himself as that famous of an author, compared to the likes of Tolkien, Lewis or Shelly, so he was surprised when he got a call from a television company in Pittsburgh, asking if he would like to be a guest star on Mr. Roger's Neighborhood fora segment about famous disabled individuals. It was to show children that they could do anything they set their mind to, no matter what physical or mental handicaps they might have. Robbins, knowing about the educational and moral background of the show, said yes. He was not originally planning on bringing Elijah, since he would have had to miss school, but after what happened earlier that January, he figured his nephew needed a distraction.

Ever since Brooklyn returned from his forty-year time dancing trip with his family in tow, Elijah had expressed no desire to see him, or any gargoyle for that matter. Even Hudson and Lex, who wanted to catch up after being gone for months, were shunned by the teen when they came to the Robbins house. Elijah locked himself in his room, and the occasional sound of his keyboard playing was the only indication that anyone was there. He needed to talk to someone, but he refused to talk, even going so far as to scream at his uncle to shut up whenever he tried. Amanda had shown up a few times, but all he would talk to her about was school work. Needless to say, Jeffrey Robbins agreed that a distraction was probably what he needed at the moment, and the teen was momentarily excited at the opportunity to miss school and meet a semi-famous individual.

They flew out on Friday the 17th of January, landing in Pittsburgh in the early afternoon. Filming for the episode would start the next day, a Saturday, and the episode would air a week or so later. The taxi dropped them off at their hotel, and the Robbins' were just settling into their room when they received a call from the studio Apparently, Mr. Rogers himself wanted to meet with them after finishing filming for that day, and had even invited them for dinner that night.

"Dinner with Mr. Rogers," Elijah muttered, a mixture of excitement and confusion going through his brain. He was at an age where he was not supposed to like children's TV shows anymore, but he had grown up watching Mr. Rogers. The guy was probably the nicest person currently alive, and someone the teen would like to meet, but he was not sure how he would act off camera; for all the world knew, he was a horrible person outside of work.

"Good think I insisted you bring a nice sweater," Uncle Jeffrey said, petting Gilly on the head before going to the phone to call a taxi.

"Maybe I should just stay here," Elijah said, picking at the end of his bed sheets. "I mean, it's probably gonna be just a bunch of boring talk."

"It would be rude to not come," his uncle said, the blind man sensing the real reason he didn't want to come; he was trying to close himself off from social contact in response to his sorrow. "Come on; it'll be fun. Besides, I'm not leaving you alone in a strange city; I gotta keep an eye on you."

"Ha ha," the teen said, smiling at his uncle. "Fine. But I haven't watched his show in years, so I hope he doesn't ask me about it!"

An hour or so later, they arrived at the television studio in eastern Pittsburgh, and were greeted by an individual who introduced herself as Erica. She worked on the television show set as a writer's assistant, and was there to escort them to the proper sound stage.

"I know Mr. Rogers is interested to meet you, Mr. Robbins," she told them, leading them through the many halls of the broadcasting studio. "And your nephew too, once he learned he was coming."

"I apologize if it was last minute," Jeffrey said, following Gilly's guidance as Elijah looked around with mild interest.

"Well, if it was an annoyance, Fred never let it on," she said candidly. "He's the kind of person who could find a silver lining in a cloudless day!"

"I believe that." They reached a set of double doors, and stepped into the television show set.

Elijah, who had never been in a TV studio or on a set before, looked around with amazement and awe. Cameras, lights, sound equipment and all kinds of electronic gadgets took up most of the room, surrounding the stage area that held the set. He recognized the iconic set, of course; he could see the front porch, living room with the stoplight hanging on the wall, and the kitchen with the fish tank. Past that, he could see the Land of Make Believe, just as colorful and whimsical as the last time Elijah had seen it on TV some eight or so years ago. Many people stood around, talking and checking equipment and watching a man on set, who was talking with a grey-haired individual in a green sweater, khakis, and tennis shoes.

That's… Mr. Rogers, Elijah thought, stunned to be seeing the man in person.

Fred Rogers looked just as kind in real life as he did on TV. Even now, he had a smile on his face as he talked to someone with a clipboard, the wrinkles on his face showing his age and years of happiness. There was no doubts in the teen's mind if the man was kind outside of the show or not, especially when he caught sight of the two Robbins. His smile somehow got more radiant, and he excused himself, walking over to them.

"Mr. Robbins," he said, smiling and shaking the author's outstretched hand. "It is so nice to finally meet you. I'm so glad you were able to come this weekend to film the episode."

"Thank you so much for having us," Jeffrey said. "This is my nephew, Elijah."

"Elijah," Mr. Rogers said, shaking the teen's hand and smiling warmly. "Your uncle told me you would be coming."

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Rogers, sir," the teen said, feeling like he was living some crazy dream, meeting Mr. Rogers in real life. Amanda would not believe it when he told her.

"Your uncle tells me you're quite the piano player," Mr. Rogers said.

"And I heard you're a good piano player too," Elijah added, remembering something about Mr. Rogers writing all the songs for the show.

"Both my wife Joanne and I love to play," the man confessed. "We could probably play something at our apartment after I finish filming here."

"Fred," someone called. "We need you on set."

"Please excuse me," Mr. Rogers said. "Feel free to stick around if you want, or you can wait in the green room next door." He thanked them again for coming and then went back to the set, Erica leading them off to the side so they could watch without disturbing anyone.

"First impressions," she asked.

"... Wow," Elijah said simply. "He's…"

"A very nice man," Uncle Jeffry answered, smiling. "What does he look like?"

"Older than you, greying hair, and a kind smile."

"The nicest I've ever seen," the assistant said. "And in this business, it's nice to have a friendly face that lets you know everything's okay. Especially when you have rude coworkers."

Watching Mr. Rogers film his TV show was just as impressive. He was calm and courteous throughout, and he wasn't afraid to ask for help when he needed directions on where to stand or what to do. Elijah noticed that some people seemed to get slightly frustrated with his slow and steady approach, but Rogers stayed kind and cheerful throughout, as if he did not notice their attitude.

To Elijah's surprise, Mr. Rogers lived within walking distance of the studio, so they walked to his apartment, enjoying the cool winter afternoon. Throughout the walk, Mr. Rogers asked them questions about themselves, only pausing to return a greeting random strangers gave him.

"I've never been to Galveston before," Mr. Rogers told him. "It must be a beautiful place to live, right next to the ocean. Though it must be very hot."

"It can get up into the 90s," Elijah agreed, still a little awkward as he walked next to the celebrity TV host. He was a little shy, mostly because Mr. Rogers seemed like the calmest individual he had ever met, and one that you could tell them anything and they would not change in demeanor. "It took me a while to get used to the cold up here."

"Yes, but I love the snow," Mr. Rogers said, indicating to the small drifts that had been shoveled aside as sidewalk salt cracked under their feet. "The world becomes transformed whenever it snows, don't you think?"

"I couldn't agree more," Uncle Jeffrey said. "It's one of the reasons I moved up north. Winter has always been my favorite season."

They reached the man's modest apartment, and met his wife Joanne. She was a kind faced individual, the glasses on her nose showing the twinkle in her eyes. As she showed them around, Elijah couldn't help but notice two pianos in the sitting room, and asked if she played.

"Oh yes," Mrs. Rogers said modestly. "I have a Masters in Music and I still play with my best friend every now and then. I take it you play?"

"Just a bit for choir. Nothing fancy."

"I never really think pianos are fancy instruments," Mr. Rogers said philosophically, his voice as calm and clear as it was on his TV show. "Nor do I think any music is fancy. Music can be a lot of things, but I've yet to find a piece that's fancy."

"Oh, Fred," Joanne said, smiling and taking his hand. "I've got dinner ready. I hope you two like casserole!"

It was a delicious meal. The Rogers were vegetarians, and the vegetable casserole was delicious. The adults mainly talked about the show and their lives while Elijah listened. He did not mind; he did not feel much like talking anyway. He excused himself when they started talking about their families, going into the living room to play with Gilly.

There was not much he could think about besides losing his best friend. No matter how he thought about it, there was no other way to think about it; Brooklyn was not the same individual anymore, and therefore was not friends with him. When he was younger, there was a neighborhood kid named Tom who lived nearby that Elijah was friends with. He moved one year, but moved back two years later, a completely different person. It had been awkward, seeing him again, since both had moved on with their lives and become different people. They ended up not becoming friends again, and that was what scared the teen the most; how could he hope to be friends with someone who had been perfectly fine on his own for forty years?

Gilly's toy rolled underneath the piano bench, and Elijah went after it, sending it rolling back to the German shepherd. As he stood back up, he looked at the piano, which was a grand piano that looked like something out of a music store. Every key was so clean, he could see his reflection in it. This was far better than his plastic keyboard back home, and better than the old upright piano in the choir room.

"You can play it if you like," a voice said, and the teen turned to find Mr. Rogers standing in the doorway. "I figured you would like to at some point; your uncle tells me you have a real talent."

"He's probably exaggerated a little," Elijah said, slightly embarrassed at his uncle's praise, and all the attention he was getting. "I doubt I'm as good as you or Mrs. Rogers."

"Joanne is a good pianist," Mr. Rogers admitted, walking over to the piano as Gilly wandered back into the dining room. "Though I would still like to hear you play something, if that's alright with you."

"Uh… fine," Elijah said, sitting down at the bench, wondering what he should play. He did not know many pieces by heart, and he was not sure which one he knew would impress the TV host. Moments later, he realized he did not want to play anything, but he could not just say he had changed his mind; that would be rude, and if there was anyone he did not want to be rude to, it would be Mr. Rogers. So, he just sat at the piano for nearly a minute, unsure of what to do.

"Are you okay, Elijah," Mr. Rogers asked, noting his troubled expression.

His calming voice was enough to snap the teen from his thoughts, and he hit his knee against the piano.

"Y-Yeah," he lied, grimacing through the pain. "I'm… fine."

The man sat down in another chair, concern on his face. "If I may say so, you seem troubled, Elijah. Something has hurt you, and I don't think it was the piano."

The teen was immediately on guard; he had a feeling that Mr. Rogers would probably attempt to pry into his business, and while he didn't hate the man, he just didn't want to talk about what he was going through.

"I'm… not sure what you mean," he finally said.

"You are hurting on the inside," Rogers continued. "I can see it in how you talk and walk. You are sad."

"S-So," Elijah asked, trying not to get annoyed at one of the nicest people on the planet. "People can be sad sometimes. Is that bad?"

"Not always. Sometimes, we feel sad for little bits of time. It is when the sadness takes over our lives that it becomes a problem."

"I'm not sad all the time."

"Then why don't you seem happy? You are in someplace new, with an uncle who cares about you very much, but I haven't even seen you smile."

"I don't have to be happy all the time," Elijah finally snapped at him. "And I'm sorry for not smiling. I've got other things on my mind besides worrying about whether or not I've smiled today!"

The silence that followed was deafening. Mr. Rogers' face remained passive and unchanged, though Elijah's flushed with embarrassment. He was not used to getting upset with anyone, especially not an adult, and especially not Mr. Rogers. He snapped at the man in his own home, after being treated with nothing but kindness. Surely this would be the time that he would tell him to mind his manners or something. Instead, Fred Rogers did something else.

"Do you know what this means," he asked the teen, holding out both of his index fingers in a hooked C-shape. Holding one hand with his C facing up, he hooked the second C into the first. Then he reversed the position for the hands and did it again.

"Y-Yeah," Elijah said, his voice quiet and hollow. "It means friend."

"I've always liked this word," Mr. Rogers said, signing it again. "And how it's signed. It's like your fingers are best friends and they're giving each other a hug." He set his hands down. "Friends are there to help one another in times of need. They are there for one another, and care for and want good to happen for the other." He smiled kindly. "I know that we're not exactly friends, but I would like to help you with whatever is hurting you."

The deaf teen found himself starting to tear up, and quickly wiped his eye. He was starting to remember why the man was so popular with everyone, and why his show had been on for decades. It was like he was reading his mind and soul, sensing what was wrong with him and saying what needed to be said to make him feel better. Elijah absentmindedly played one of the keys on the piano, the sound echoing through the silent room.

"I have this friend," he finally said, trying to keep his emotions in check and make sure he did not reveal the clan's secret. "Brooklyn. He is… was, my best friend for a long time. The first one I made since moving to Weisman. He… went away for a while, suddenly, and now he's back… but he's different. Very different. He's not the same… person I knew before he left."

"I see," Mr. Rogers said. "And you're scared that he has changed too much to be your friend anymore?"

"He has changed too much," the teen answered. "He's like a whole other person now. When I saw him again… I…" He wiped at his eyes again. "I didn't even recognize him."

Mr. Rogers was silent for a few moments, sitting still in his seat. "Do you want to be friends with him still," he finally asked.

"I… Yes," Elijah said, surprised by the question. "Of course I want to."

"These changes your friend went through," the man continued, "was it something you or him could control? Did he intend to become a different person and hurt your feelings?"

"No… no."

"Have you talked to him since he came home?"

"Just for a minute or two. I… kind of got upset and left. That was about a week ago."

"Mhm. Then why won't you forgive him?"

"I… What?"

"It seems that your friend had no control over his personality changing. It is a natural thing to occur when people are gone for long periods of time." Elijah was going to interject, but something in Mr. Rogers' tone made him stay silent.

"It is especially hard when friends and loved ones come back changed," Mr. Rogers explained. "We remember them for who they were before they left, and when they come back different, it scares us. It scares us, because we don't know if they will still like us or want to be friends with us. We are scared of them becoming someone that we don't like. Most of all, we are scared of how this will affect our futures.

"Like I said before," he continued, "friends want and desire good things to happen for the other. They enjoy one another's company, and share in their triumphs and victories. But they also share in their sadness and losses. When someone we know changes, we are unsure if those same feelings of wanting the good for the other will remain, and if they will return it. But how do you know what will happen if you don't give your friend a chance? If they are really your friend, no amount of differences can keep you from being friends again. But… do you want to be friends with him again?"

Elijah was silent, mulling over what he had just heard. He knew Mr. Rogers was not one to skip around deep issues, but… This was incredible. It was as if the past week or so of his life had been a mess of puzzle pieces, but Mr. Rogers had given him the piece that made everything clear. He realized how stupid he had been, wondering if his friendship with Brooklyn was over while at the same time refusing to do anything to make it better. It all came to him at once, and he started to cry.

Again, he hated crying in front of people, especially in front of strangers. However, he did not feel embarrassed for some reason. If anything, he felt… better. As if someone had taken a heavy backpack off his shoulders, and had given him a map that would help him get to where he needed to go. He felt Mr. Rogers take his hand, and looked up at the man, who was smiling at him.

"I'm sorry," Elijah said, trying to wipe his eyes with his free hand. "I was…"

"It's perfectly fine to cry," Mr. Rogers informed him. "Sometimes we all just need to show how we are feeling. We can't keep it inside us forever."

"Yeah," the teen agreed, smiling a little. "Thanks… for talking to me. I'm sorry… for being rude to you earlier."

"I forgive you," Mr. Rogers said kindly.

In the doorway to the living room, Jeffrey Robbins wiped his own eyes with his free hand, the other one holding Joanne's. Both had heard their conversation, and were touched by Mr. Roger's words.

"Your husband is a saint," the blind author told her.

"No," she said, smiling a little. "He's just Fred."

"So I hope we can get past these changes, and know that I want to be friends again," Brooklyn signed shakily, checking his old ASL dictionary to make sure he was correct.

He found that it was easier to re-learn sign language than he had originally thought, but he still had his struggles. He figured muscle memory came into play, though he still was not as fluent as he used to be. At the moment, he was working on what to say to Elijah when he saw him again, figuring it would be better accepted if he signed it.

Brooklyn had not seen his best friend since he and his family arrived back in this time, which was about ten days ago. Elijah had run off, was later found by his uncle, and both went home. The teen expressed no interest in seeing him or any of the clan, which both hurt and angered the gargoyle. He just wanted them to be friends again, and for him to meet his family, though with every passing day, it seemed less likely to happen. He felt guilty for being gone for forty years, though he knew that he had no control over it. And he had changed, in more ways than one.

Nashville was nearby, practicing his Bushido techniques with his Kodachi sword. He was calm and precise with his movements, just like his mother, who was currently looking after their unhatched child in the Hatchery. Katana, Nashville and Fu-Dog were all adjusting to their new home and time, though they still carried all their belongings with them, in case they were sent to another place and time at any moment. They were welcomed by the rest of the clan warmly, and were starting to settle into their new lives. Brooklyn turned back to his dictionary and written out letter, figuring he would go over what he was going to say [or rather sign] again.

Dad, Nashville called in Japanese, sheathing his sword. Can we go for a flight?

Did you finish your techniques, Brooklyn asked.

Yes. And mom said we could. She said we could go see that Central Park place Goliath told us about. Or see a movie. He walked over to the table, looking over his dad's shoulder. Whatcha doin'?

Nothing that concerns you, he said kindly yet with a tone that meant the subject was closed, setting his letter in the note and closing the book. C'mon; we'll let your mother know where we're going.

Can we see the Empire State Building again, his son asked excitedly, following him out of the room

Katana said it was fine if they went for a quick flight, wanting to stay behind and look after Egwardo. She did not like all the lights and noise of the city, preferring a quieter setting, but she was happy to let them go. Afterwards, they headed to the main hall, figuring they would see if anyone else wanted to join them. Brooklyn wanted his son to fell that he was part of the clan, and everyone else wanted to make the only child in the group feel welcome.

"I'll go," Lex offered. "It's been a while since I've really flown around the city. I need to get used to skyscrapers everywhere again."

"Were there no skyscrapers in Europe," Nashville asked him.

"Not as many as there are here."

"I'll come too," Broadway and Angela said. They had been feeling slightly awkward since Brooklyn came back with a family, and wanted to break the ice. "We could use the fresh air."

"Fine," Brooklyn said as the elevator dinged open behind them. Probably Owen or Xanatos to see Goliath. "Let's head outside and get going!" He turned around to head towards the courtyard when he saw who had just stepped off the elevator, freezing where he stood.

It was Elijah.

He was just as how Brooklyn had remembered him, though he now looked shorter, though that was because he himself had grown during his travels. The teen's hair was still short, not unlike his uncle's, and his hands still shook whenever he was nervous. They were shivering now. He was wearing a jacket and jeans, and his hearing aids were visible, the plastic shining in the light.

Everyone was silent, staring at Elijah as if he were a ghost. He in return stared at them as if he were seeing them for the first time. It was a silent stare off for a few moments, but then Brooklyn finally snapped out of his surprise, trying to remember what he was going to sign.

"Elijah," he started shakily, making sure his fingers were in the right configuration as he signed. "I'm… sorry for everything. I wanted to… ask… forgiveness for…"

"No," Elijah interrupted, finally walking towards him, stopping a few feet away from him. Brooklyn's hands fell, unsure of what was going to happen. "I'm the one that needs to apologize." He hesitated, hands still shivering, then he started to talk again.

"I wasn't fair to you earlier. I was upset… I thought I had lost my best friend. I thought…" The deaf teen paused again, his eyes somewhere off in the distance. "I thought that, now that you had a family… you wouldn't want to be friends with me anymore. I was being selfish, not talking to you or asking what you wanted." He looked back at Brooklyn, looking nervous. "I just… wanted to say that I'm sorry, and I understand if you don't want to be friends anymore. I accept that. I just didn't want to -"

Brooklyn walked forward and hugged him, cutting off his apology. He was crying, blinking away tears as he hugged his first real friend. If he were forty years younger, he would have found hugging to probably be something 'unmanly' or some other stupid reason, but he embraced his friend now. Elijah, after a few moments of shock, hugged him back, a few tears in his eyes. Angela was crying as well, and Broadway and Lexington simply watched the two friends reconciling with shocked yet happy faces.

Nashville was the one to break the silence, looking between his father and the human with confusion.

"Uh… dad," he asked tentatively, noticing that his dad was crying and wondered why he would be crying. "Who's this human?"

Brooklyn let go, turning to his son with a smile. "An old friend," he answered. "My best friend."

"Yeah," Elijah agreed, smiling as well. He turned, holding out a hand to Nashville. "Hi. My name's Elijah. Elijah Robbins."

The inspiration for this chapter came to me from an unusual source. With the two Mr. Rogers movies that came out these past few years, and realizing he would be alive during this time, I figured what better person to help Elijah with his sadness than Mr. Rogers? I know, it may seem kind of corny, but I really think that he was the person who needed to help Elijah reconcile with Brooklyn in the end. I also wanted to follow Rogers' example, showing how a little kindness can go a long way.

Feel free to follow or favorite this story to be updated on new chapters, and feel free to leave a review on this chapter or others if you want. And, as usual, have a safe and happy week/weekend!

-aggiefrogger

Note: I do NOT own Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood or Mr. or Mrs. Rogers at all.