Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story, but I do own the story. If it resembles anyone else's in any way it is unintentional.

Author's Note: Hey, everybody! Remember me? Remember this story? It's that really sad one about Wilt and Frankie and all that fluffy stuff in between...yeah, this is the one ) Anyway, sorry about the huge delay. I hope you all enjoy this chapter; there's quite a major plot point to be revealed here. So...enjoy!

Looking For the Smile
Chapter 6: Let It Rain On Us Forever

Nearly a month and a half had passed since Frankie's departure. The house had gradually learned to adapt to life without her, and the friends, while they still missed her, were starting to heal from the shockingly abrupt event. Mac still visited, and he and Bloo were getting more time to play each day. Eduardo noticed that Wilt's mood had slowly lifted from day to day and was beginning to seem like his old self. Mr. Herriman's broody and reclusive demeanor was also diminishing, and he was returning to his picky, micromanaging self.

Things were returning to as normal as they could get without Frankie. But it was such a thing that wouldn't last, and then there came one day that changed everything.

Wilt and Eduardo had just finished their chores and were on their way upstairs to listen to Bloo and Mac's latest scheme. More than likely they could expect to take part in it, as well. When they had reached the top of the stairs, the overhead speaker switched on.

"Master Wilt," came Mr. Herriman's voice over the loud amplifier, "Madame Foster requests your presence in her chambers."

Wilt sighed inwardly to himself. Why did Mr. Herriman always have to dress up the simplest of phrases? He turned to Eduardo and said, "You go on. I'll be back later."

"Are you sure?"

"It'll only take a minute, Ed. Don't worry." Wilt gave Eduardo a reassuring smile before going down the hall to Madame Foster's room.

When he arrived, Wilt noticed that he had been feeling more and more uncertain as he'd come closer. There was some feeling he couldn't explain sitting in the pit of his stomach, almost a sick feeling. At first, he hadn't even entertained any idea of what she could want with him. He'd figured it would be nothing short of the ordinary. Now, as he stood here in front of her door, he was feeling something that deeply, deeply unnerved him.

Taking in a deep breath to calm himself, Wilt raised a hand and knocked at the door. "Come on in, sweetie," came Madame Foster's voice from behind the door. Wilt opened it and entered the room, ducking as he did so. He found it a bit odd how he did that almost automatically without thinking. There was no reason why he shouldn't, truthfully; he'd had to do it all his life.

"You didn't have to knock, dearie, I was expecting you," the old woman said sweetly. "Please, won't you sit down?"

To be honest, Wilt preferred to stand, but he preferred to be polite more than most else, so he obeyed.

"So," Madame Foster began conversationally, "how are you today, Wilt?"

The friend was a little caught off guard by her offhand remark. Somehow he couldn't believe she'd called him down here just for a pleasant conversation. Although pleasant conversations were his favorite...that feeling he'd had since coming here still hadn't gone away. She'd called him here to tell him something, he could say that confidentally.

"Erm...fine, I guess," he replied politely. "How are you?"

"Oh, just fine, dearie. I was hoping I would catch you in a good mood today. I know how upset you've been over, well..." Madame Foster paused, seeming hesitant. "Well, since Frankie left," she finally said. With the mention of the subject, Wilt's mood was understandably brought down a bit, but it was not enough for him to show on his face. He merely nodded.

"I'm in a good enough mood," he said. He noticed the uncertain feeling grow bigger. "Was there...something you wanted to tell me?"

Why did he have to ask her, he wondered. Wilt didn't want to know what was giving him this increasingly unsettling feeling. Why did he have to prod her into it? If anything he now wished to prolong the conversation, drag it out...anything but find out what was giving him this feeling that now threatened to actually make him sick.

Almost instantly, as if a fire in the old woman had been suddenly extinguished, Madame Foster's eyes dropped down and she looked full of grief. She sighed, sounding older than ever, and finally spoke, "Wilt, sweetie...I called you here to discuss something with you. Something about Frankie."

The first notion that leapt into Wilt's mind was to ask if she was coming back. But judging by the sudden look on the old woman's face, he knew that was far from the truth. If anything, Wilt felt his own happiness, healed for several weeks now, begin to deteriorate. He began to fear that he would never see Frankie again by the expression Madame Foster wore. As the silence between them grew longer, worse and worse ideas came into Wilt's head. What if something had happened to her? Could she be hurt? Could Frankie even be...

Wilt stopped his thoughts there. He would go no further with that idea because he knew it wasn't true. It couldn't be true, or no amount of time would ever make it okay for him or the rest of the house. He blocked his mind to any further speculations and decided he would just let Madame Foster talk.

"What about her?" he asked quietly, not wanting to seem too worried nor too apathetic.

"I figured you deserved to know the reason why she left."

Wilt was a bit confused. "I know why she left. Mr. Herriman...and her, they were fighting..." He faltered to a halt as Madame Foster shook her head no.

"Frankie has been able to put up with that rabbit for twenty years, since the first day she came by with her parents to visit me." Madame Foster giggled, letting herself be lost in the memory for a moment. "You should have seen Frankie when she was two years old, Wilt, she was the cutest thing. She and Mr. Herriman have always had their differences, but she would never do something so rash as leave because of him. ...Wilt, the entire thing was basically a cover."

"A cover?" he blurted out. "A cover for what?" Now the unsettling feeling had evolved into impatience, desperation, some sort of absolute need to know what was going on.

Madame Foster sighed again, looking even more tired and ancient than ever before. "Frankie called me a while ago and said she wanted to tell you herself. She wanted you to know the truth. It's hard for me to talk about and I don't think I could have been the one to tell you, even if I wanted it that way."

She was beginning to ramble on a bit; Wilt wasn't sure he understood what she was saying.

There was silence in the room for a while. Madame Foster's eyes were intent, thinking. Wilt simply sat there, motionless, confused. The silence grew longer and the ticking of Madame Foster's clocks grew louder. Wilt wasn't sure how many minutes passed before Madame Foster finally reached for the phone and began to dial a number.

Wilt watched her, and saw her every move, yet there seemed a sort of glazed, glassy effect to it all. He didn't hear any words she spoke into the receiver, could feel no sense of the passage of time or the reality of what he was about to discover. But time moved on just the same, and through the screen that his vision had become, he saw Madame Foster hold out the phone to him. Registering no thoughts at all, he reached out and took the receiver from her. He couldn't even feel it; everything around him and about him had grown numb, and he could have sworn that even his vision was becoming blurry.

As he held the phone up to his ear, Wilt slowly began to hear again. He said something, he wasn't sure what, and soon he heard the one sound he'd never thought to hear again, the one voice he'd never expected to speak to again, the thing he was so afraid of losing from the very beginning.

Frankie's voice. And it was really her voice. Not the rage-infected one from months before, not the one that screamed and resounded throughout the house...it was the one he'd always known, the one he'd come to appreciate and miss so much. It was almost like if this was all he'd come here to hear, it would have made everything infinitely better.

"Wilt?" came her voice again. "It's Frankie."

"...I have really missed you." What else could he say but the simplest things?

"I've missed you too, Wilt. I've missed the entire house. ...I'm sorry I haven't been able to come back for a while."

Silence. Silence on her end, and he responded with the same. Who knew how long it went on? Did it really matter that much? For the first few minutes Wilt felt no sense of the passage of time, like before, yet at one moment something inside him just broke. No more waiting...no more silence, and no more games. He wanted to know the truth. This minute.

"Frankie," he finally said, "Madame Foster said there was something you wanted to say to me...something you wanted to tell me?"

"...Oh. Yeah, there wasis..." She sighed heavily. "I've been working on a way to tell you for the past two months and still I don't know what to say."

"The past two months?"

"...Yeah." She sighed again. "...This is really hard. But I'm telling you this because you're one of my best friends, Wilt, and after all this time I just think you deserve to know."

"...Go ahead."

"...About two months ago...my mother was out. She was, uh...I think she was just going out to...to the store or something, I don't know."

"...Yeah...?"

"It was raining that day. ...The roads were wet."

"...Mm-hmm."

"People don't know how to drive in the rain. They get confused."

"...Okay."

"...Somebody hydroplaned. ...And they hit her."

Her voice was growing softer, but her tone seemed hardened, like she'd told this so many times already she just didn't feel it anymore. ...Or perhaps she was fighting so hard just to keep her voice straight...

A beat of silence. She spoke again: "...She was killed."

Wilt was completely silent. The shock was too bad. Everything he'd worried over for days, lost sleep over for nights, been afraid would tear him apart from the inside out...this was so much worse than that.

"I didn't leave because of Mr. Herriman. I left for the funeral...and to stay with my father for a bit."

After all this, after all that had happened in the past month and a half, after the fights and the screaming and the rage and the confusion and the hurt and pain and tears and shock and everything, everything, everything else...Wilt simply had nothing left to say.

DemiHuman123: Wilt and Eduardo are the best! I'm glad you're enjoying the story :)

Digi Garden: Aww, don't cry. Things will get better...or will they?

nukerjsr: I'm glad you like the story so much :) And you got your wish with this chapter...Madame Foster was actually in this one lol

MysticSistaKitsune: Wilt: (gives MSK a little peck on the cheek) ...Was that okay?

Sherlock-fan19: Wilt is always happy to hug :)

Shannon Foster: Glad to hear you're enjoying it :)

Qk: lol Those were some of the most enthusiastic reviews I've ever gotten. Well, I don't think I've ever made someone cry before with a story, so I'll see if I can't break you with some hardcore angst. Fun fun! ;)

I'll try my best not to slip into my old habit of slow updating. But hey, you can never really know. Until next time, thanks for all your lovely feedback, and I'm still so glad you all are enjoying this story as much as you are ;)