Okay, I know this is a ridiculously long chapter, but once I started, I couldn't stop, y'know? I hope everyone had a good Christmas and will have a Happy New year! Jo and Chris are back by popular demand, which was something that, I admit, I never expected, but I changed some things to suit...well, everything. Oh, and, sorry about the whole caviar and chips thing. Don't ask why I wrote that part...I guess I felt like being random. Hee hee...

Chapter 7- Caviar And Chips

The night-sky was beautiful. Stars shone brightly through the branches and leaves of scattered trees, and the waning moon, at its highest, acted like a mother to these burning suns. There was silence, apart from the whistling of the fresh wind and the rustling of leaves.

Patterson was fast asleep in the far corner of the platform, resting near the trunk of their tree. Randall hadn't managed to get to sleep yet. He was lying down, staring up at the sky, though not really acknowledging its presence, and thinking about a lot of things. For the first time in a long, long while, pain was completely absent from his body, leaving him able to concentrate properly. But, rather than thinking of this as a positive thing, Randall, in a way, actually wanted to be hurting- it would give him something to concentrate on.

Without the pain, and with Patterson asleep, he was just left alone with his conscience and a very mixed platter of emotions. The revenge was still there, of course, but the more he thought about the child…the more he thought about each and every little detail of what had happened…the more he experienced guilt. Randall didn't like guilt at all; he just wasn't used to it. His way of thinking was that what was done was done, and that there was never any plausible reason to keep reverting back to the past.

It was really his own past that kept him thinking like this. He hadn't had the most fun-filled of childhoods, to say the least, but he couldn't change that, could he? No-one could. The best he thought he could do would be to just forget about it.

Forgetting wasn't as easy as he first thought though, and this was proved even more so by the constant train of thought running through his mind, which was now focused on what had happened with the girl. He couldn't forget what Sullivan and Wazowski had done, no, and most of the things that Randall had done, in his own opinion, he had had no choice about. And that was that.

A little 'but…' floated through his mind, and Randall knew that this 'but…' was right. The imposing question was…Sure, everything accounted for, he was innocent…

But did had he done what was proper, what was right?

Randall found, to his dismay, that he didn't have an answer. What had happened to him certainly wasn't fair, as life seemed to be in general, but if he was to be killed at that very moment, how likely was it that he would end up in heaven, away from the fiery gates of the other place?

Randall scoffed. He shouldn't have been thinking about this kind of thing, about dieing. Sighing a deep, deep sigh, the lizard-monster sat up and looked at the view around him. It wasn't much, really- a few trees, a stream trickling away somewhere in the distance, some nocturnal creatures coming out to play- but it was, admittedly, very calm, peaceful. He swallowed the lump that was rising in his throat and traced the scar across his head. The sudden rush of emotions that he was currently experiencing hadn't been received very well, although it had been expected.

Contrary to the beliefs of previous co-workers, Randall wasn't just some cold, detached zombie who didn't know the meaning of the word 'happy'. He was, as a matter of fact, much more emotional then one would think upon meeting him for the first time, and it was his ability to keep these feelings under the surface that hid his own true personality.

All of this thinking had become much too much, and another headache had started. Randall buried his face in his hands. Why did life have to be so…difficult?

There was a sudden gunshot in the distance. Randall peered up, scanning the horizon in the direction that he had heard the noise. It was just as he had expected; somewhere near Jo and Chris's place.

He shook his head. Yet another section of his life that just didn't seem complete had been pointed out without much mercy on Randall's behalf by the gunshot. The lizard-monster would sometimes find himself wondering about what had happened with Joanna, the woman that had nursed him back to health. And, of course, who could forget Chris, the man that had made sure that once Randall had gotten better, he would ruin it all by shooting him?

As far as Randall knew, they were still together, but any reasons as to why they were still together were completely beyond him. Did Joanna LIKE being treated like something Flipp had dragged in? Did she enjoy being ignored for the majority of the time the couple spent together, until Chris lusted something a bit physical?

Well, from what Randall could remember, she had been quite stupid…But THAT stupid?

There was another gunshot, and by this point, Randall had got quite worried. For the past few nights, these gunshots had been reasonably frequent, and he had thought about asking Pat whether he could aid him in trying to find out exactly what had been going on, but every time he had mentioned the subject, Pat had always seemed very eager to talk about something else, always managing to cause a distraction to take Randall's mind off it.

"What are you doing up at this hour?" The lizard-monster gasped, turning around, and finally relaxed as Patterson's silhouette came up behind him to sit down by his side. Randall was slightly wary of Pat; although he was, indeed, a very interesting monster to talk to, he found himself to be constantly questioning of how exactly he had got there, the swamp. The first time the two had properly talked to each other, once introducing themselves, it had been Pat who had thought of the idea of making a pact, agreeing that Randall wouldn't have to tell him how he got there if he didn't have to share the equivalent information with Randall.

This had worked quite well. That is, until Randall had begun to wonder how exactly Patterson had got there… "Couldn't sleep." Pat nodded.

"Understandable. The air is quite fresh, has a bit of a bite to it, and for a gentleman such as yourself, the absence of fur on your body is surely something you are bitter of." Randall smiled. He liked the way Pat talked, even though half of the stuff was utter nonsense.

"You'd think that, wouldn't you?" he said thoughtfully. There was a moment of silence. "Did ya hear that, earlier?"

"Specify."

"T-the gun-shots, over there." Randall nodded in the direction that he had heard them, shivering. "I'm worried about the girl."

"Girl?"

"Yeah, the one that lives over there, with that guy. I have a feeling that he's not treating her too well."

"And this matters to you because…?" There was another pause, in which Randall sighed.

"She…helped me. Not many people do that…y'know…help. Especially not a guy like me…" He drifted off, his words being whipped away by the wind.

"Dawn arrives soon," Pat began, ignoring what had just been said. "But if you plan on taking action, it would be preferable that you do so at night." Randall nodded. "Then, you should get some rest now. Let your mind settle." The lizard-monster crawled over into the corner that Pat had been occupying and curled up under the blanket. He smiled at Pat in his resting place before turning over and attempting sleep. It was hard, at first, and he found a few tears trickling down his face more than once, especially when he began to think about how sane he had been acting recently. He felt so much better, mentally, and enjoyed it when he could have proper conversations with his only friend.

But sometimes, something inside of him would turn his thoughts, his mind, and the Randall that he knew would be gone for at least a good twenty-four hours. He hated it when that would happen, and he found himself being afraid of his own actions. It was a bit like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, except that when he was in the 'Mr Hyde' phase, there would be a little bit of his brain that could see and remember everything that was happening, and this had the same effect as a small child watching a truly terrifying horror movie.

With these final thoughts, Randall went to sleep, and dreamed of creeping downstairs in the middle of the night with his sister when he had lived with his parents as a child, tip-toeing to the living room and switching the television on to catch the latest horror show. Marie, his sister, had never enjoyed this, but, in her opinion, leaving her brother alone with the TV was a much worse idea than being frightened out of her wits…

Patterson stroked his beardless chin, considering something, and turned around. Randall was fast asleep in the shadows.

Perfect.

He crept past the scaly monster whose body was rising and falling gently, heading towards the trunk in which he had carved some makeshift steps to be able to get down to the ground. His feet pawed the fallen leaves gently on the earth and, once he had made his bearings, Pat headed directly north, counting his paces.

"…Forty-nine…Fifty." Soon enough, he had reached the right tree, and was able to climb it with relative ease. "Brilliant," he whispered, noticing the sun that had only began to rise. Once he had reached the fifth branch to the left, he sat down on it and stuck a claw through a hole, and as he pulled it back out, a large piece of bark fell off with it. Maggots and millipedes crawled out like a wave of water, but Pat was interested in finding only one thing.

His face broke into a rare grin as he retrieved what he had been looking for. It looked like a plain, smallish metal box with some buttons, and this was exactly what it was. Patterson turned a knob on its side, grinding his teeth at the radio static. Finally, a voice was to be heard.

"KFE, niner niner, do you hear me?"

"I recieve you. Plan 54 is good to go, most certainly."

"Stage A, B or C?" Pat chuckled.

"Do you not trust me? I am past those basic stages, and am ready to proceed with bringing 'Freak-E-Deak' into town."

"Good. Contact in 72 hours, do you read me?"

"Loud and clear."

"Confirm, 72 hours, I repeat, you have 72 hours to get 'Freak-E-Deak' on his way."

"I confirm."

"Over and out." Pat twisted the knob once more and put the radio down to one side. Then, he stuck his arm into the hole once more, producing a slightly out-of-date bar of chocolate, and broke a piece off, chomping into it, pleasure written all over his face.

"Excellent."

----------------

"Chris…No, don't…c'mon…" Joanna's voice was muffled by a piece of dried crocodile skin being stuffed in her mouth. She struggled against the rope, wincing as it chaffed her bare arms, but the bind was tight. Chris watched her balefully.

"You ain't going nowhere now, Jo. You are gonna stay here with me." The chair that Jo had been attached to scraped on the floor as she wiggled her body about, and Flipp barked loudly, worrying about his owner. Chris threw the dog an evil look and picked up the shotgun that was leaning against the sofa, never letting his eyes drift away from the animal's own black pupils. "Bye bye, Flipp," he started, his voice gruff and menacing, "Have fun in doggy hell."

A gunshot only metres away from where Randall and Pat were hiding made them jump in shock. The plastic curtains of Jo and Chris's home were taped shut and covered with another material, so as not to let any passer-bys with particularly long noses peer in from outside, but nothing could withhold the sharp sound of bullet hitting flesh. Randall picked up a handful of moist soil, letting it sift between his fingers, and resisted the urge to throw it at something; Patterson was watching closely, and the lizard-monster had grown very suspicious of his only friend.

It was the way that Pat had acted that very day that had caused these underlying suspicions to be aroused, and they hadn't settled yet. His eyes continuously darted from left to right when not focused on Randall, and his grip, once firm and powerful, had now been reduced to slippery nervousness- Randall had felt this as, a second after the initial gunshot, Pat had grabbed his fronds and yanked him down to the ground, pushing both their faces in the mud as a safety precaution.

He was not to know that Randall had a little ability up his sleeve; an ability that, though he had not been able to control it for the past few months, seemed to gradually be returning back to his body. The scaly could now turn invisible in a short instant, though this instant was noticeably more lengthy compared to his previous records.

Now, face down in the soil, he grimaced. The gunshot hadn't exactly been promising, and he didn't like the idea of having come back to a place he would rather have forgotten about for no reason. This was just an excuse though- an excuse for the guilt he was feeling for not having come to Jo's rescue sooner. Something had been holding him back- at least, that was what he kept telling himself- though precisely what had been holding him back was, on a rare occasion, completely beyond him. But now wasn't the time for excuses or reasoning or any of that kind of stuff, no.

Now was the time for action.

Randall lifted his head up, grabbed Patterson's hand, informing him that it was not necessary to keep a hold of his fronds and that doing so was, in fact, making him feel very hot, and pushed it to one side. Pat looked up, puzzled, and Randall's reply was a stiff nod. Swilling the spit around in his mouth, Pat shrugged very slightly and decided that it was best to leave the rest of whatever Randall planned to do up to Randall; all of this had been his idea, after all. If he was to be honest, he would admit that he didn't really care about the humans or what Randall was about to do, as long as the lizard-monster didn't get hurt as a result of it. He needed the scaly to be as fit as a fiddle for the journey they were going to start on the next day, but he couldn't tell Randall anything about this particular journey as it had been a strict order from his boss's boss that everything that had been organised was to be kept a secret from him.

Anyway, if he had been told, how likely would it that he would actually WANT to go on the journey? So, Pat decided to tell Randall to be careful, sure, but only because they were such good 'friends' and Pat wouldn't want his 'friend' to get hurt now, would he? And if he did so, maybe Randall would stop giving him swift sideward glances and untrusting actions. Unfortunately, Randall had been a lot more intelligent than Pat had bargained for. Sure, the guy had managed to outwit the company several times without even knowing what he had been doing, but it was not as though outwitting the company was a particularly straining task. Anyone could do it, as long as they weren't a one-celled organism. Oh, and they also had to have the knowledge of knowing that the company actually existed.

But…then again, Randall had outsmarted even the highest levels of authority of the company's without knowing of its existence, and that had been when he was only a child…

The current centre of Pat's thoughts moved forwards a few inches, beginning to crawl around the side of the shabby building. Randall knew exactly what he was doing, and his plan also enabled him to keep his ability confidential, away from the eyes of Pat. This was, as a matter of fact, why he had told Pat that they would hide behind the building; this meant that to enter the house, he would have to go around the other side of it, and that would mean that although he would have to wait until he had reached the front door to turn invisible, Pat would end up not knowing a thing, which was, in Randall's opinion, absolutely perfect.

Only the bushes revealed his presence as he turned the corner to reach the front door, and when the soft, warm, weed-covered soil gave way to cracked concrete, he got up on his fours, dusting his dirty hands off. He took a deep breath. This was probably going to be reasonably painful, and Randall wasn't exactly looking forward to it, but to be able to shift again…He concentrated, and slowly, slowly, slowly…disappeared.

Randall felt a lot more strained than he thought he would and swayed slightly, his skull seeming to shrink to put the most immense pressure on his brain. A few seconds of time-out later, he lifted his arms and hands up, and was relieved to see nothing. He suddenly experienced a sensation that he would only rarely encounter- it was as though he was home again, in his small, horribly decorated apartment with the soft, squishy sofa and black and white TV, with a massive bed much too big for the room, with the microwave that he relied on to make up for his inevitably bad cooking.

And there were all his little projects that he would work on in the evening, and his wall covered with bookshelves that were filled with everything on the earth but books, and that smell of coffee that had been stained into the air…So many birthdays and Christmases had passed, and no-one had ever thought to get him a coffee machine as a present. Then again, no-one ever really thought to get him anything.

Randall clutched the tightened door-knob and turned it, all of these thoughts swimming around in his head. He needed to clear his mind now, otherwise end up as a prize trophy. Sure, that wouldn't be a bad existence, but the lack of changing scenery made Randall cringe.

He would have to be quick, he knew, and quick he was. Darting into the room at a speed that even he hadn't realised he could manage, Randall assessed the situation, which was easy enough as there was a trail of half-dried blood leading to the mangled body of a dog, and a girl tied to a chair. In a second his brain had worked out that the previous shot had been for poor Flipp, the four-legged friend that had peed himself a total of thirty-seven times because of Randall's impending presence, and that the girl tied to the chair was, of course, Jo.

Randall had been just in time and the scene in front of him showed it; Chris's gun was cocked and Jo, bound up, was refusing to cry, glaring at her partner relentlessly. The monster's sudden entrance had caught Chris's attention right away. He actually seemed almost scared of any movement, and this sparked a bit of hope deep inside Randall. Maybe, if he caught that pathetic example of a human unawares, there might be some hope.

Jo looked up only when Chris had moved his aim off of her. He pointed directly at the door as it creaked slowly closed, having been slammed roughly against the wall, but found that he could see nothing. The complete silence in the room did nothing to aid Randall's mission, and although he was acting as fast as he could, the pitter patter of his feet was worrying him. What if Chris heard it and managed to figure something out?

On the other hand, Randall had the element of surprise on his side because as far as he knew, Chris thought that he had died as a result of the shot that had caught him. It was rather the contrary- all it had done was loose him the use of an arm for a few weeks, and he soon recovered.

And now, he was moving just like the old days.

Randall whipped round the side of Chris, causing a breeze to ruffle his torn trousers and making him spin around on the spot, following the source of the wind with his gun. Randall kept going, jumping up on the wall for a second and then pouncing off, landing inches away from Chris's feet. He continued, his movements, if they were able to be seen, looking as though it was a routine that Randall had practised for years and years, perfecting it so that even the tension in his muscles was pinpointed to give him maximum gracefulness.

Chris was utterly dumbfounded and also looked utterly ridiculous, spinning around on the spot whilst wielding a gun. He soon felt dizzy and stopped moving for a while as Randall carried on circling him. A scaly tail knocked over a vase full of dead flowers, sending it crashing to the floor where it shattered, grabbing Chris's attention once more. He was fed up and shot randomly at the space where the vase had been, but missed the creature he was trying to catch by more than anyone could expect; Randall was currently perched on the ceiling and looked down at the situation from above. He let a grin come to surface for a split second before releasing his hands and feet.

Like an angel from above, Randall fell directly onto Chris, knocking him out. He stood up, checking the body by prodding it with a toe and, once satisfied, turned to Jo who had been watching the action with a mixed reaction of confusion, relief, and sheer joy.

"Easy." Randall wallowed proudly in the glory for a few seconds but was kicked into gear when Chris's body stirred. He went over to Jo, biting the rope with sharp teeth and peeling back the tape. As soon as she had been released, Jo began to chatter.

"Oh, thank you, thank you! I didn't know if I was gonna make it back there, but thanks to you-"

"Alright, I get the idea. Let's just get going- do you have anywhere else you can stay for the night?"

"Well…I don' know. I mean, I could stay with Auntie Susannah, but she might-"

"That's fine, let's just go before this idiot wakes up." Jo blinked.

"…You mean, you're not gonna…finish him off?" Now it was Randall's turn to blink.

"Finish him off? What do you think I am, a hitman or something?!" Jo stuttered, trying to back her side of the argument up but not managing to say a full word that was in the dictionary, or rather, the English dictionary- she managed to say quite a few Martian words unknowingly, but this did not, fortunately, end up in any alien contact. "Why were you even with him anyway? I mean, did you have some kind of deal going- 'oh, you can come live with me, as long as you try and KILL me on a DAILY BASIS'?! What's wrong with you?!" The startling impression of the local accent made Jo want to snigger a little, but the serious look upon Randall's face told her that it wouldn't be a brilliant idea.

"Well…My ma always said that she was so proud that I'd found a man…she'd be so sad if we split up…"

"Your ma…?" Randall spluttered, his eyes widening. "You…" He shook his head, lost for words, and paused for a second. "You really are stupid, aren't you?"

"YOU go an' tell me what to do, then." Randall pretended to think hard, resting his chin on a hand. An imaginary light-bulb above his head lit up and his voice was so filled with pure contempt that he was practically scared of the tones himself.

"Hey, I have an idea," he began, as though talking to a teacher. "How about…YOU LIE?!"

"But- But-"

"Let's just get outta here before your brain explodes with all of that thought, alright?" Chris was moaning with pain, and as he was regaining consciousness, he was rolling over and beginning to reach for his gun. "C'mon, let's go." Randall ushered Jo out of the door and blocked it with the rusty car door that had fallen off and had been placed against the wall near the front window, hoping that this was enough to deter the nutcase.

"Randall, what are you waiting for?" Jo whispered, her face being blocked by the mist drifting out of her mouth. She wrapped her dressing down around her body tightly and rubbed her legs together, trying to keep warm. Randall was standing by the door, listening out for any signs of movement.

"You go," he whispered back, "and I'll deal with him. Just get to wherever you're going and you'll be fine."

"But Ran-"

"Just go." His tone was final, and Jo knew of this lizard-monster's renowned stubbornness. There was silence.

"Thanks." There was a lot of warmth and feeling wrapped up in this word, and Randall could feel it. He smiled at Jo, and realised for the first time that, in his exile, he had not made one friend, but two. This distraction was to prove almost fatal, though. A bang was to be heard from inside, and the door shook and wobbled in its frame. The car door managed to hold it closed, but Chris was not to be kept inside his own home- or rather, Jo's home; she had paid for the place, after all.

A bullet shot through the window, causing it to crumble and match its partner, and an arm was stuck through it. Chris emerged, a manic scowl splattered across his red face. Pat, having heard all of the commotion, had come round the front to join Randall. He gave him a panicked and questioning look.

"Randall, what on earth-"

"You don't wanna know. Let's just get outta here." Together, they ran down the driveway, but Chris's powerful glare bore into their backs. But, unbeknownst to them, Randall was not Chris's target. The mad man disappeared around the corner, and a pair of bright yellow lights was switched on. The sound of a powerful, rumbling engine met their ears. Tyres screeched against the mud, and when Randall turned around, he came face to face with a large rusty truck that was frowning menacingly at the pair of them. Pat muttered a quick 'oh dear' before running like a rabbit that refused to be scared of headlights, though refusing to be scared was pretty much the exact opposite of his current emotions.

"PATTERSON, YOU GET BACK HERE OR…you…Oh dear indeed..." The truck was moving very fast, and it seemed as though Chris wanted to kill two birds with one stone- he would go after Jo with the truck and kill the monster with the truck while he was at it.

Randall dived out of the way, but he was a second too late. His body glanced off the bonnet, flittered over the roof and landed hard on the ground. Something inside of him cracked. His eyes began to water, or he might've been just crying with pain, but whatever it was, it made it doubly hard to see the truck speeding off into the night.

Pat emerged from the bushed nervously and, upon seeing a longish figure unmoving on the ground, used his lengthy legs to run over to the battered lizard-monster.

"Oh my, Randall, are you alright?" There was no answer, just a lot of wincing. "The truck has gone now- undoubtedly heading to town. We are unable to catch them, Randall. The matter is closed, and I hope you are happy with the results." Scolding over, Pat leaned over his friend, concerning governing his features. "Are you in any pain?"

"I think I've broken something…" Randall said quietly, hugging himself where it hurt- his side.

"That is…incredibly unfortunate." What Pat wanted to say was, "How DARE you do something so STUPID! Stupid, stupid, STUPID!" because this was really messing with his plans. How was Randall going to get to town with him now? He would have to inform his boss that the plan would have to be held back a few weeks longer, and this was something that the boss would not be pleased about.

Then again…If Chris was headed towards town and Pat wanted Randall to go to town…All he needed to do was to convince Randall that that was indeed where Chris was headed, and the primitive lizard would just go after him, wouldn't he? What a brilliant idea! Pat was certainly proud of his ingenious, and in his opinion, he had a right to be.

"Randall, my friend, I have had an idea." Randall opened his eyes, showing Pat that he was listening. "All we need to do is follow Chris to town, and we are sure to bump into him at some point or another!"

"But isn't town…a long way away? I don't think I can go very far…"

"We can go at a slow pace. It may be a long way to town, but once we begin our journey, the time will just fly by! And you, my friend, can have your revenge." Pat, in Randall's opinion, was acting much too happy. But he did, admittedly, have a point, and to get revenge on Chris was all that he wanted. He also needed to make sure that Joanna had made it to her Aunt's house safely, and since Chris's truck seemed to have a reasonable amount of power, he could catch up with Jo very quickly- she hadn't had had much of a head start.

"Okay…but…a slow pace, right…? I swear I've broken a rib…"

"We can go as slow as you like, Randall, my friend. As slow as you like."

-------------------

They'd been walking for three days. It was hard work, even for Patterson who was not used to such strenuous activity- life in the swamp had been a lot more luxurious for him than for Randall, as the company he worked for had a rule of treating their most loyal and hard-working employees. Everyone had had the opportunity to try the exams that were given to get the place of 'Swamp Watcher', but few passed, and of those that had passed, Pat had been selected. He was very proud of this fact, and enjoyed the recognition that he had first received. And, although he hadn't returned to the Monster World for a good five years, he knew that when it was his time to go back home, he would be able to enjoy a hero's welcome.

There hadn't been much company for the first two years of his stay either, but Pat had known this when he signed himself up for the trials. It had, as a matter of fact, been one of the key elements that had driven most hopefuls away- the lack of a social life. The only monsters Pat had ever seen before Randall in the swamp were the ones that brought him food, clean drinking water and supplies, and they hadn't been the talkative type, to say the least. But Pat didn't mind. He never had many friends as a child, and the few who had risked a relationship with the monster had always come out the worse for it. His mother would always say that he just wasn't the compatible type, but Pat knew really that he just didn't like having friends. They always seemed to interfere, they'd never leave you alone even if you told them straight that you didn't want any company at that moment, and they would always, always try to cheer you up.

That was what Pat hated the most. Why did they always bother to act as though their lives were full of sunshine and happiness and little pink bunny rabbits wearing top-hats? It might be so, but why shove it in everyone else's face? And no matter how much his family would try and encourage him to persist, to keep looking, because maybe one day he might find the perfect friend to share his life with, he never had any hope.

Until Randall.

He was so different, so accepting of life itself that Pat began to trust his nosy relatives. Nothing annoyed Pat about Randall. He didn't have any disgusting habits (except for shedding once in a while, but that was something that couldn't be helped) and, if told to bugger off, to put it simply, he would. It was like he understood…everything! Every little detail about Pat's personality, his moods and temperaments, seemed to have already been burnt into Randall's brain, and it was such a phenomenon that, for a while, Pat concerned defying the company. Sure, there were lots of little perks to his job, but to lead his only friend to his death…

Of course, he had to act as though he and Randall weren't really friends; the company would skin him alive if they heard word of this. But it was such a shame that fate had to be altered just for some guy's sick desire for revenge. And it had been fate, it must've been- shortly after the anniversary of Pat's two-year stay in the swamp, he got a message from some director of the company saying that one of the key targets had been detected in the swamp, and that he should find him and keep him healthy, keep him living until they would tell him to do otherwise.

He hadn't liked the idea at first- to have company after such a long time alone would be a change that he wasn't willing to adapt to. But this wasn't the only change he would have to deal with; there was also the fact that the original mission brief, to lie in wait for the takeover convoy, had been scrapped. Okay, so waiting for two years in an alligator-infested swamp hadn't been much fun, sure, especially since the deal was for him to stay for six months maximum, but it was like he was leaving a job unfinished.

He argued with his superiors over the radio, and they had finally agreed that all he would have to do is take Randall to the closest town, meet his new escort, and then return to the swamp. They had given him the name of this escort, but, contrary to his usual brilliant organisational skills, he had forgotten it. He knew the name of the house that they were to meet at though, and that would be enough; there wouldn't be any other monsters around- the company had made sure of it- so whoever it was wouldn't be too hard to spot.

But now, Pat had become somewhat attached to Randall, and since his boss had made sure to describe what would happen to the lizard-monster in detail, he had begun to have second thoughts. He had already been beginning to turn against the company a few years back when they had first told him that his original six month stay had been increased to a year, and then two years, then five…Revenge did seem incredibly tempting, and any punishment he would receive couldn't be any worse than staying in that dratted swamp, could it?

Pat looked over to a struggling Randall and sighed. If only the choice was easier to make.

"We can stop for a rest now, if you wish. It's almost sundown." Randall nodded, relieved, and sat down where he was. They had been travelling down a rough road, and not a single car had passed since the beginning of their journey, which had spoilt his idea of hitching a ride to town. It would take a lot longer on foot, and Randall was now thinking that by the time they would reach their destination, Chris would already have arrived back home. The lizard-monster admitted that he was holding back Pat, but he couldn't go any faster- there had been several times in the past three days when he was on the brink of collapsing in pain, and the only thing that had kept him going was the idea that he might be able to save Joanna.

Of course, this wasn't the only reason he was so eager to go to town. For all he knew, Joanna might not even be there- she had told him many a time the whereabouts of her closest friend's house, but he had never actually visited the place, and this didn't do much to aid their journey time. No, there was something much more important that awaited Randall in town, and this drove him on like nothing else; doors. But not just any doors, no.

Active doors. Doors with monsters going through them to scare their allocated children, doors that led back into the Monster World, back home. Randall had a secret suspicion that Pat was thinking about this too- whenever he mentioned how much further they had to go, Randall could spot a little glint in his eye, a glint that had never been there previously. Pat wanted to go home too. He could tell.

And that was probably because Patterson had a wife, or maybe even some children, or some really good friends that missed him and that wanted him back. Pat probably had a lovely life awaiting him. All that joy, happiness, satisfaction with existence in itself, love, it was probably all there. In Pat's life. Not Randall's. Pat's.

This was the one thing that made Randall hate Pat with all of his might, like he hated Wazowski and Sullivan and anyone else who had nice, enjoyable lives but took them for granted. This hate never came through his voice or features though, of course, but how he wished that Pat would tell him what his life really was like, as this hate was caused only by assumptions. Randall dreamed of Pat telling him how terrible his own life was, and how pleased he was that they were in the swamp together. But this wouldn't be true, would it? Because what else could explain that little glint in his eye whenever he mentioned town, if he didn't have anything to look forward to in the Monster World?

"We got anything to eat?" Randall asked, feeling his broken rib slip and slide inside his body as he sat down on a slimy log. Pat joined him and, upon the question being asked, began to rummage around in the two bags that he had been carrying. One of these bags was in Randall's possession, but he had been in much too much pain to carry anything heavy and all of the food that Pat had prepared the night before weighed the sack down even more. Pat had had a feeling that something was going to happen that evening the previous night, so he had caught as much edible stuff as he could, thinking that it might come in handy.

"We have the entire makings of a banquet, if you ask my opinion. A grand choice here, between rat…" He paused, looking up for Randall's reaction.

"Boring."

"Ants?"

"Not filling enough."

"Fruit and berries?"

"Too healthy."

"Well," Pat said, trying not to smile, "I think that is our lot. You had better choose, or I shall have to eat the entire confection!"

"Oh, come on, there's something else in there. I can tell. Rats, ants, fruits and berries don't fill up two large sacks, y'know." Pat manage to keep a straight face, considering his options, and eventually decided that, rather than being cruel, he would take the nice choice.

"Alright, your intuitions are correct- there is something else in the bag, but I'd rather you didn't eat any of it."

"Because you wanna scoff it all, right?"

"No, no, of course not! It's just…I didn't think you'd be too keen on it."

"I know it's meat, Pat, I can smell it, and believe me, I'm more than keen on meat."

"Not all meat, surely?" Randall grinned toothily.

"I'm yet to find one that I don't like."

"So you are fond of chicken, turkey, lamb…?"

"How could anyone not be fond of those things?"

"…pork, fish…?"

"Does fish count as a meat? I'm not sure…But yeah, I like it." There was a strained pause.

"…Alligator…?" Randall's green eyes flashed in the darkness as he comprehended exactly what Pat had just said.

"Alligator?" He tested the word out, spitting each syllable as though there was a piece of alligator meat in his mouth at that very moment, and glared even more sharply as Pat gave a look that said 'yes, but please don't kill me.' "I was gonna ask how you managed to get 'gator meat, but to be completely honest, I don't really want to know."

"It was lying dead on the bank-"

"La la la, I'm not listening, okay?"

"Rotting away, flies buzzing around it-"

"Not listening, not listening-"

"Bones sticking out at awkward angles-"

"ALRIGHT! I GET IT!" Pat couldn't help it- his face broke out into a smile that seemed to light up the whole scene.

"So, I presume that you don't want-"

"No. I don't." Randall eyed the bags, shaking his head and trying to ignore the smirk that was practically being thrown at him. "Just pass over a rat." Pat did as he was told, purposefully restricting his own reach, making Randall have to lean over. Pain shuddered through the lizard-monster's body and the rib slid further.

He bit into the rat hungrily, tearing off the meat without any care, and curled his tail around the log; he could feel his body slowly slipping off the moss. Pat didn't take anything out of either of the bags for himself, and he had good reason not to- one was indeed filled with the list of provisions he had mentioned, but the other was filled with scrumptious food, some of which Randall had probably never even heard of. There was, although, one factor of the menu that wasn't there- the alligator.

It had been a lie, and a convincingly executed lie at that. Patterson knew that Randall would be suspicious of exactly what the sacks contained, and the alligator meat had been the perfect alibi, though it admittedly had been a bit of an impulse. And it had been a far stretch- for all he knew, Randall might not have cared about eating a fellow reptile's meat- and whether or not he was even reptilian was something that Pat was unsure of.

"Where's your food?" Pat looked up, surprised by the question, and faltered before answering.

"I-I'm not particularly hungry."

"Not hungry?" Randall was nonplussed. "We've been walking practically non-stop for three days now, and you're not hungry? What are you, Supermon?"

"I can't control the moods of my stomach, Randall. If I'm not hungry I shall not force myself to eat, regardless as to whether anyone in my company is consuming food at the time." This stern, defensive tone of voice did its job.

"I was just asking why you weren't eating. Y'know, concern for another friend? Ever heard of that?" A disbelieving glance was shot from Pat's side. "Fine. I won't care if you don't want me to." Randall got up, holding his side, and went around the log, soon settling down on a particularly soft pile of leaves by the roots of a large tree. All the while, Pat looked on and, every now and then, took note of Randall's state. It took the lizard-monster a surprising amount of time to get to sleep, but it was still quite light. Pat's stomach was growling ferociously, and by the time his friend was in the land of nod, he felt almost faint with hunger.

He scrambled across the log to reach the sacks and pulled out an astonishing variety of food. Ultimately, he decided on caviar and chips, an unusual combination, he knew, but one that he liked. He remembered one time when he was back at home in the Monster World and had fancied getting some fish and chips for him and his wife. When he arrived at the Chippie, he noticed a sign hanging on the door that stated, 'due to stocking problems we are not able to serve any fish until tomorrow. As a substitute we are providing caviar. Sorry for any inconvenience caused.' According to Patterson, there was no inconvenience- he liked chips and he liked caviar- so he couldn't find any problems with mixing the two together.

His wife had, though. She had never had caviar before, and that was lucky in itself. The allergic reaction that she had suffered had meant that an ambulance had to be called, and later that night, she died, all because a fish and chip shop had run out of fish and had decided that fish eyes would be a reasonable equivalent.

Anyone in Patterson's position would've sued, but he didn't. Rather, he felt that he should thank whoever's idea it was to replace the fish with caviar in the first place, and even wrote a letter to the people who had gotten the eyes out of the fish because they had rid him of a wife that he had loathed to the point of wanting to murder her, but he didn't want to have to suffer the consequences.

Of course, he never told anyone that the previous day he had stolen the entire supply of fish out of the back of the shop and replaced it with caviar, because if he had, he would then have had to suffer the consequences anyway. He also kept it a secret that, also the previous night, he had injected his wife with a concoction of chemicals that would cause her to be allergic to caviar. Where he had got this knowledge to be able to make the right mix of substances he didn't know because it was a piece of information too specific for him to bother to remember.

Pat looked at a piece of caviar and smiled a thoughtful smile before dunking a chip in it. You couldn't get much better than caviar and chips.

------------------------

And I know my wife…Is the Devil's woman...Can't get rid of her…She's the Devil's woman...

The lorry driver hummed the tune cackling out of the radio absentmindedly, letting his head bop to the rhythm of the tambourine. It was a very basic song, and old too, but a favourite of his. It was also a bit of relief from all of the driving he had had to do recently, and although the overtime did come in handy, he really didn't fancy driving that evening- it was his son's birthday, and he had wanted to be there as his pride and joy blew out the candles on his cake.

His eyes flickered to the digital clock on the dashboard. It flashed 1:34 almost satisfyingly. And the driver's wife always complained that he wasn't committed to his work…!

Something made the whole lorry jolt sickeningly, and Jerry slammed the brakes on, making the lorry skid to a halt. Letting his mind drift was, admittedly, a bit of a worrying habit of his, and he knew that whilst driving in the pitch black he had to be especially careful. He was afraid of dying with a wife and child waiting at home, although he wasn't particularly fond of the wife…A weird thought suddenly passed through his mind about caviar and chips. He must be going mad.

Cautiously, he opened the lorry door and clambered down, flattening the soft ground with his heavy boots. Jerry knew he shouldn't even be there, on a side road, but he had fancied a short-cut to save a bit of time. Whatever damage that had been caused would come out of his wages, and he sighed at the thought.

As he walked around the side of the vehicle, he produced a torch from a pocket and flicked it on. The beam of light illuminated a pair of tyres, one of which was obviously deflated. Jerry growled, annoyed and, not managing to think of anything better to do, prodded it with his torch. Nothing happened. He kicked it. Still nothing happened. As a last resort, he began to think about actually replacing the tyre. It would involve effort, which was the problem, but since he couldn't call anyone in the middle of the night to help him, it was the solution that made the most sense. And anyway, he had training for this sort of thing. Whether he could actually remember it was a small detail.

Jerry walked around to the back of the lorry, aware of the trees surrounding him that were waving their branches like a wizard casting a spell. Their fingers seemed to interlock, creating a cage above and around the wary human. He didn't like this place much, especially not in the middle of a remarkably chilly night.

The back door of the lorry was slid upwards revealing an astonishing number of empty boxes, along with the equipment that Jerry needed. Great- if he could get on with the job, he'd be out of that creepy place in no time.

-------------------

A long, echoing screech had awoken Randall and Pat. Randall was only roused a little at first- he was cold and shivering, and didn't want to move- but Pat had woken up with a start. He had selfishly kept the blanket to himself, not wanting to share; this would make Randall even more ill, and if Randall was ill, perhaps he wouldn't want to continue travelling to the town. It was worth a shot, although Pat knew from experience that the want, no, the need to return to the Monster World was a very strong thing indeed, and whether being physically unwell and unable to get there would deter Randall from his quest was something that Pat could not be certain of.

Not too far in the distance, two wide beams of light were illuminating the road. Spotting the opportunity, Pat jumped to his feet and was beginning to make his way over to Randall when a thought struck him. If his idea would work- hitching a ride on a human's vehicle to get to town- it meant that he would not even get a real chance to stop Randall from going there. But if they missed this ride and Pat did manage to save his friend from a painful death, it was very likely that he would be the one at a risk to loosing his life.

Now was the time to make a choice- help a friend or receive endless riches for loyalty to the company?

Pat turned around, checking that the lorry was still there, and then faced Randall. Sadly and with a regretful look about his features, he touched the lizard-monster's shoulder, shaking it gently, relishing the touch of smooth scales against his rough hands.

"What…?"

"There's a lorry, my…my friend. We'll be able to reach town in matter of hours if we board it, though we must hurry- I believe its conductor had a small accident, and I fear that he will be ready to continue his journey before we can, as they say, hitch a ride." Randall grinned, suddenly and quickly, a little spurt of hope arising in his insides. It felt good, encouraging, and remarkably pleasant.

"Great, let's go!"

"But we must stay hidden. If we are caught, a fate much worse than living in the swamp awaits us." The lizard-monster nodded, comprehending what the pair of them had to do, and got up, still shivering violently. "I'll give you the blanket once we are safe inside the vehicle, Randall." They both crept towards the side of the road, still hidden in the bushes, and travelled down the tarmac a bit until the lorry was in full view, along with its driver.

"Should I shift?" Randall whispered, staring out at the man who was currently grunting and groaning with the effort of pulling the tyre off- he had loosened the four bolts that had kept it in place, and the only thing stopping him from continuing was the fact that this tyre hadn't been taken off the lorry's axis for a long while. Giving a small thumbs-up, Pat motioned towards the lorry, telling Randall that he should go now and that he could take care of himself. Randall raised his eye-ridges, questioning whether Pat was one-hundred percent sure about this, and the firm look that he received gave a clear answer. In a second, he was gone, and a second later, having whipped around the driver, climbed into the lorry and looked at what it contained, he was making himself comfortable among the boxes, but still making sure not to create too much noise or disturbance.

Pat was slightly worried about getting inside. He was a reasonably agile mover and was satisfied with this fact, but his large size made him all the more easy to spot. A distraction was needed, but what could he do?

According to Randall, Pat was taking much too long. He peered out of the lorry, just managing to catch his friend's eye, and winked. He turned invisible once more, snuck back out of the lorry and noticed the human's toolbox. Now, what would this human need to change a tyre? Randall smiled at the sight of a wrench that was half-hanging out of the box, signalling that it had been used previously.

"YEAH!" The sudden noise made Randall practically jump out of his scales, and when he realised that it was, in fact, the human that had made it, he felt like kicking him in the part of his anatomy that was stuck up in the air. To Randall's horror, the cause of this exclamation was the tyre having come loose. It was only a matter of time before the replacement was fixed on, so he would have to hurry up. He slowly lifted the wrench up, and then put it behind his back, still invisible, but making sure that his scales wouldn't shift to the wrench's colours, which actually made the wrench, from the human's view, unable to be seen.

Slithering around to the front of the lorry, Randall crept into the driver's compartment and placed the wrench on the dashboard, which would lead the human to the opposite side of the lorry to where Pat was going to enter. Brilliant.

"Hey…where's…" The human got up, scratching his derrière, and swivelled slowly around on the spot. He was utterly confused since he had just used the wrench moments before, and had left it… "…In the toolbox…" He knelt down to peer under the lorry, didn't find anything, got back up again, and eventually thought to check the front of the lorry. How it could ever have gotten there, he didn't know, but it was worth a try.

Randall, by that point, was once again arranging the boxes to his liking, smiling mischievously all the while- Pat was by his side.

"Not bad, huh?" Pat smiled too.

"Not bad indeed. I'm impressed, Randall, though I daren't imagine how you previously used that little gift of yours back in the Monster World."

"Y'know what? I don't blame you."

-----------------

"And so we made our way to the town. It was a long journey, six hours at least, and the guy made so many stops along the way we lost count. But we got there in the end, and what a sight that was…" There was silence, with everyone in the room clinging on to every word that Randall had uttered in the past half an hour. So, when he didn't continue, there were objections.

"Well, what then?"

"Yeah, get on with it!"

"Yes, Randall," Andy said with a sarcastic and undeniably slimy tone, "do go on."

"No." Randall had wanted to say that word by itself just for the reaction it would incur, and soon explained his reasons. "The time's gone by real fast, boys, and I've got a business to run."

"Can't your girlfriend do that?" one piped up, much to Randall's displeasure. Every word in the sentence following this was spat out bitterly, yet with an underlying softness.

"She isn't my girlfriend." He shrugged. "Sorry guys, but I'm busy, and it's just not fair to leave Zephyr run the shop and the café on her own. It isn't. So there ya go." Equally bitter looks were passed across the table, and if these looks had left lines as they travelled, the pattern would resemble a half-finished spider's web. "You can come back another time if ya wanna hear the rest, okay?" Everyone's eyes lit up, except for Andy's.

"I'm not even sure if I believe all of this rubbish." Randall shrugged once more, feeling weirdly at ease.

"Your decision." The group soon left, having eaten their lunches and paid their bills, and other general customers came and went throughout the duration of the remainder of the day. Randall spent most of his time out at the front, dealing with purchases as Zephyr dealt with food preparation at the back. They hadn't spoken to each other since the morning, and though they hadn't really had a need to, Randall still felt a little bit of underlying worry somewhere in his stomach. So, to settle this, when the shop became particularly quiet at once point, he went through to the café and soon spotted Zephyr clearing a table.

"Hey," he said sweetly, half-smiling at her. She didn't respond, instead carrying the dirtied dishes around to the kitchen. Randall followed after her, concerned, and his eyes widened in disbelief when Zephyr just carried on washing the dishes when he tried to talk to her. "Zephyr, what's wrong?" Having cleaned the final plate, Zephyr slammed it down onto the work top, causing a crack to edge its way through it, and glared at Randall strongly.

"What's wrong?! Randall, you're telling a whole bunch of people you don't even KNOW about one of the most personal moments of our LIVES! I don't care whether it's to get revenge on that Yulliman and Wanooki or whatever-"

"Sullivan and Wazowski."

"Whatever! It's still…It's still a really important bit of our lives, and I don't think you should be sharing it with those guys."

"But they're not just any guys! I used to work with them! Well, most of them... and they deserve to know how cruel Sullivan and Wazowski really are!"

"Yeah, but you've got PAST that bit, haven't you?! You got past the bit about your banishment-"

"Exile. Not banishment."

"Oh, who cares?!"

"I DO! I care, Zephyr, and the reason I'm telling them more than they need to know is because…well…I…"

"Go on."

"I needed to tell someone of what I went through, y'know…"

"You told me, isn't that enough?"

"NO! Y'know what, it ISN'T enough! I'm fed up of being friendless, of being alone-"

"But you're not alone! You have me! Aren'tI enough?"

"…I don't know. I…I don't seem to know anything about…about life anymore…"

"Well I DO know. I know that you're the most amazing person I've ever met,"

"Shut up, Zephyr..."

"That you're underestimated when you really, truly are something great-"

"Just be QUIET, alright?!"

"And that I can't live my life without you, and that…"

"Zephyr, don't say it. Don't, don't even think it!"

"I love you." Tears welled up in the couple's eyes. Randall put a hand over his mouth and flinched when Zephyr reached out her hand to touch him- he needed to be alone. A few metres away, the phone began to ring, bringing the two of them back to their senses. Zephyr was persistent though, and her voice was filled with love as she talked.

"Randall, you can't deny-"

"Just answer the phone." Randall muttered this reply before storming out of the room, through the back door, and bounding up the stairs to their flat.

Rejected and shaken, Zephyr wiped away the tears trickling down her face and took a deep breath before going to answer the phone. The handset was cold and slippery, and the voice it emitted deep and booming.

-----------------

"Aah, Miss Stefani. How ya doing? Wait, no, I kid myself- I don' care. Just shut that boyfriend of yours well and truly up, otherwise we'll send a few guys round to deal with him. We don't need what happened in No Mon's Land to get out, alright? Just keep his mind on other things or, as I said, we'll have to deal with him, and things might get a little…physical, ya know what I'm sayin'?"

Zephyr whispered a strangled 'yes' before putting the phone down.