Author's note: Same as before-all characters you've heard of before are Klasky-Csupo and Nickelodeon's, while songs mentioned belong to their composers and companies-the rest are mostly mine. Please watch out for familiar lines "borrowed" from movies or TV.

Rugrats Midlife: Reunion

Chapter Five: Cure for Saturday Night Fever

"You still can't believe I'm a priest, Captain Pickles?" asked Phil-oops, I meant FATHER Philip-as we drove downtown in my Cresta tailing the girls, riding in Angelica's red Pontiac Aztec, and our old folks, Mr. DeVille on the wheel, riding in his Ford F-150. "Certainly Lil would have told you that for six years..."

"You were incommunicado DeVille," Chuckie said in my defense. "Took us until the time you bumped into Sis in Vegas to finally realize what you've been up to in the seminary." Now that explained the fact why Phil did not go to Chuckie's wedding, nor any event we considered important for that matter.

"Then thou art forgiven, my son," Phil then said, in his best ecclesiastical mode, and turned to me. "Yes, the Almighty works in mysterious ways." After turning silent, he then asked me in the casual way we knew he asked, "So what are you gonna do now that you've quit the Corps?"

I got irritated, but no time for that-I'm on the wheel. "Padre, I haven't quit the Corps, I'm just semi-retired. And I've entered security consultancy. The career's not that hard when you have expertise in security issues." I could sense Phil, Chuck, Dil and Fred were all ears. Hmmm, so that means explain yourself, Thomas. "I've gone into the Cameroon, handled ethnic militias in the Congo-twice, violent militants in Western Sahara, and security threats to the embassies I've been into-Ankara, Tokyo, Kabul, and add that to my expertise that I learned from my stays in Basra, Okinawa and Pearl Harbor, I can manage that. And then I have some capital and provisions for my future. Who knows, maybe Kimi will teach me a thing or two about net safety." Lotsa talk got them drowsy-the thing I just needed. Finally, peace and concentration. Only one thing left bothering my mind, and that was in the form of a person. Kimi Finster.

Oh, I didn't really know what I was feeling at that damned time. I dearly regarded her as a friend, but why did it take so damned long for me to feel odd around her? Strange it took so long before I felt queasy around her. Now I felt what Chuckie experienced around his first crush, Nicole, and it seemed it hopped onto me with a vengeance. Ah, hell, I told myself, confront them on Saturday. Right now you need to take control of your mind-and your blue Cresta. No sense leaving Lil and Madie widows.

Soon, we got to the place we were headed to. "Where are we?" were the first words Chuckie asked upon waking up.

"Cloomingpale's Department Store," I replied. "Knew they were headed that way. Go wake up Dil and Phil and I'll wake up Fred."

#####

And now it's Saturday. To help with the expenses, we ditched the idea of a hired singer in favor of no other than Padre Felipe himself. And the catering service was partially paid for by everyone, but mostly the bills went to Chuckie (as host) and Dil (out of volunteerism). The food was nice (classic American), the decor was made up of some bunting in the "palace yard," or so we called Chuck's garden, and the music was mostly the sentimental and friendship songs of the 90's and the early 21st century. On the veranda hung a banner with the words WELCOME BACK RUGRATS and our baby pictures below. Behind it were the seven musicians we chartered, with their instruments, and a clean-shaven, mufti-wearing, butch haircut-sporting Phil, singing the "Friends" theme song.

"From here you would never have known that Philip was an amateur singer," Mrs. DeVille, wearing a white double-buttoned blouse and black pants, told Mrs. Finster, the latter nodding before taking a glass of water. "Strange thing, this empty nest syndrome. Now you love your kids more than ever." Both ladies just laughed weakly and then sighed.

Angelica, meanwhile, was having a "nice little" chat with Susie, their bantering getting heated more and more by the minute ("Admit it, my dear Susan, you have the most simplistic and pathetic fashion sense in this group!" my boisterous cousin slyly remarked). Meanwhile, at one table, Chuck was having a chat with my brother, comparing notes on their managerial styles ("No denying the best way to manage a company is the not always the trodden way," Dil emphasized), bringing me to my thoughts on how successful my consultancy service plans will be in the near future. I took out the manual a friend of mine in the Corps gave to me that morning and looked at the possibilities in that career, and joined them.

"Hmmm, personnel training, placement of security devices, background checks, art fraud, Internet security-Kimi's an expert on this one, image-building measures for personnel, rules of engagement, peace and order situations, lots to read!" I whispered. "Looks like my work's been cut out for me."

"Oh, don't worry," Dil responded, "it's more about suggestions and some hands-on viewing. The rest of the day you spend relaxing." Great, looks like I'll be idle the rest of the day with nothing to do if business is down. At least active service gets you something to do.

"Say, where is she?" I found myself asking, loosening my tie.

"Oh, she won't go anywhere far," Chuckie responded, his fingers stroking his chin. "Just look around."

I looked around the garden. Dad, Uncle Drew, Messrs. Fulbright (Madie's father), Cruz (Fred's father) and DeVille had been discussing over some things they were doing now they were retired, and laughing their frail butts all the way. Phil had shifted to a round of Reunited, waking up a dozing Aunt Charlotte, who then started to look for her other companions, who happened to be tending to the kids ("Oooh, come on now Carlie, Granny Kira's here," Mrs. Finster was saying as she was soothing Chuckie's son, crying), while Madie and Mrs. Cruz were busy arranging the food-good thing Madie's calm enough. Lil had broken up what could have been a slapfest between the two archrivals, while Fred was inside the house looking at the fake Rembrandt painting Chuck bought from a bargain store (I heard him say somthing resembling "cheapskate," for reasons I understand). One more person to look for.

I found her, strangely silent, at the front porch of the house, all alone, with a glass of shandy on her hands. She was dressed in a strapless white satin gown, hair flowing naturally, with a headband on her blue-black hair and a matching shawl draped on her shoulders. She looked better that way, I thought to myself, than her outlandish "costumes," so to speak, that she wore in school, more often than not flouting dress codes. She was a born rebel, a libertine, unlike timid, straight-laced Charles Jr., who only did foolishness due to desire for acceptance. With that attitude, who could-or couldn't-love her? And speaking of love, what the hell am I doing here, with a friend of mine who knows nothing of the feelings I have for her? The consultancy manual, the fact Kimi was a technology consultant in the business for a considerable period-all indications point that I needed to ask her a thing or two about the ins and outs of the business.

I cleared my throat, eliciting a surprised look from the lady in white. "Oh," she said as she looked at me, "so what do you want?"

"Nothing much, save for the fact that..." I stopped cold. Manual, business, I told myself. Don't you go in front of the lady and expect her to believe that you love her, Marine. This girl's been wounded. "Oh, the consultancy thing, that's all." Damn, that was too loud, Pickles!

Fortunately, Kimi was all smiles, giving me some shred of confidence back. Friendship mode had kicked in for me, and I allowed it to rule the night. "Well, for starters," she began, "security services are in high demand nowadays, so you get to work your hiney off 24/7, if things get nasty. Now, potential clients will be made up of businesses, large houses like bro's, government services, banks, and the occasional religious institution…" Night and Day was being sung in the background by-who else?-dearest Fr. Phil.

Taking out a notebook and a pencil I often bring (a habit gleaned from my days in high school), I took down important points from her casual lecture, blessed to be preoccupied with something less troublesome than wondering if the woman beside you likes you. Looking back on it now, there were two things I learned. One was that you can get away from a potential humiliation in a romantic setting by bringing office materials and discussing business. A certified cure for Saturday Night Fever in my case.

Or maybe a symptom. Secondly, now that I look at it, my courage failed me that night-I sensed there and then she was actually feeling something for me as well...

Looks like Friendly Pickles had gone back into Doubting Thomas. But what happens next? Can he tell her what he really feels? And can she do so as well? Find out on Chapter Six: All Stops Pulled!