Ch. 10-The Meeting

Well, I've more or less reached the end of this story, folks. This is the second-to-the-last chapter, and hopefully will resolves some things-not EVERYTHING, just some. I've tried to keep everyone as much in-character as possible. One more time; I do not own any of the characters on "Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends"-didn't even have time to adopt one from the website, just this fic. They all belong to Cartoon Network. Hope everyone has enjoyed my first-ever Foster's fanfic(try saying THAT really fast, at least twenty times)!

As the diminutive old lady closed the heavy double doors behind her, leaving just herself and him in the room, Wilt felt as though all the oxygen were being withdrawn from the room. His knees felt as though they were going to give way at any second as he awaited the official accusations and the verdict, a verdict HE knew would surely be expulsion. For all the years he'd lived at Foster's, he'd harbored this secret fear that some infraction would result in him being once more cast out on the streets, to survive by any means necessary. It had been difficult enough, when his creator's family had abandoned him, but that had all been…before IT happened. Now, he knew his chances of survival would be even…

"Now, Wilt," Madame Foster interrupted his train of thought, "a matter has come to my attention, one of utmost importance, that I think YOU should be aware of! I called you in here to…"

Now, it was Wilt's turn to interrupt, though he normally would NEVER have done anything so rude. This was NOT a "normal" situation, though, and in his panic, he spoke before considering such formalities as manners. His own voice sounded like that of a stranger to his ears, it was so raspy from his tightened throat and dry mouth.

"But Madame Foster, I really, really, REALLY am sorry! I mean, I've never been more sorry for anything in my whole LIFE! We weren't…I mean, I didn't…it was just…I mean we were…I am sooooooo SORRY! PLEEEAASSE don't throw me out! I'll do anything, just don't…

Madame Foster scowled at the tall red Imaginary Friend, then raised an eyebrow at him in confusion before speaking.

"Throw you OUT? Now Heavens above, WHY would I want to do that?"

Wilt blinked his one good eye, and swallowed hard. He wasn't quite sure how to respond. Was the old woman playing some sort of cruel game with him, or what? Surely she knew-why else would she have called him into her living quarters for such an important and private meeting? He decided to continue with his original course of action, which, naturally, involved apologizing.

"I'm sorry, I am really sorry, I know what it must look like, but honestly Frankie and I were just…"

"Frankie? What's my granddaughter got to do with this? YOU'RE the one responsible for taking care of my baby, you know!"

"Uh, your 'baby'? I know she's your granddaughter and all, but…"

"Granddaughter? I STILL don't understand what Frankie has to do with this; it's not HER job to look after the upkeep of my baby-it's YOURS! And it has come to my attention that you might not have been keeping up with your duties like you're supposed to! Am I making myself clear?"

Not really, thought Wilt, at least eight different expressions of confusion and bewilderment jockeying for position on his face at once.

"Uhm…I'm sorry, but I'm not really following you, Madame Foster. Your 'baby'?…"

"My CAR, Wilt, my CAR! THAT'S my BABY! I thought you knew that! And YOU were given the responsibility of making sure that she stays as clean and shiny as the day I drove her off the lot, were you not?" queried his landlady, tapping his knee with her cane for emphasis. She then continued before Wilt could get either his brain or his mouth back online. "Just this past Wednesday, which as you know is bowling night, I was stepping out of my baby in the parking lot of the bowling ally, and that smart-alecky Jherkins comes sashayin' up to me and says, 'Startin' to neglect your ride, huh, Foster? Must be goin' downhill upstairs, when you start letting that precious Firebird of yours go to pot!' That old so-and-so pointed to my back fender, and lo and BEHOLD! There was a DIRTY SPOT, right there on my rear! Right out there in the parking lot for all the world to see!" Madame Foster paused to wipe a handkerchief across her brow, her eyes closed briefly with the horrible memory, then aimed another stern look at Wilt. "Talk about humiliating! Why, I've never been more embarrassed in my whole life! How'd YOU like to show up for bowling with a big ole' patch of dirt on YOUR rear, hmmm?"

Wilt just stood there in front of his host, blinking, his jaw working up and down as his brain tried to sort out everything Madame Foster was saying, along with the events of the past twenty-four hours. He felt as though this were some sort of waking dream, and he did not know whether he should feel relieved, or what.

"Well? WOULD you?" prompted the old lady.

Wilt shook his head slightly, like someone just waking up to find themselves in a different place from the one in which they'd fallen asleep, with no way to account for the change in locale. "Oh, I uhm…NO, Madame Foster, I wouldn't like that at all!" Relief began to flood his being, grappling with the huge volumes of adrenaline that the prior stress had induced. His legs suddenly seemed to have turned to rubber, and sitting down began to seem like a really good idea. Wilt braced his one hand against the back of a tall ornate chair, right next to a small table against the wall. "I really need to sit down, if that's OK!" he declared breathlessly, his long legs folding up as he plopped down into the chair, without awaiting Madame Foster's permission as to whether or not was OK to do so.

"Sure dear, make yourself comfortable; just be sure that…"

Once more, Wilt felt compelled to go against his usual politeness and interrupt, since there were just too many thoughts circulating in his head to wait.

"Now..now…let me get this straight, OK? YOU called me in HERE, to tell me I'd left a dirty spot on your Firebird last week, did I get that right?"

"Why yes, indeed I did. Is there a problem?"

"Oh, no 'MAM, there's no problem-no problem whatsoever!" Could it be that he was really off the hook, that his hostess had NOT, in fact, seen the incriminating photograph, wherever it was? The sense of relief that Wilt was experiencing by this point was almost overwhelming. "I'll make sure that your car is totally clean, inside and out, I swear! And I'm AWFULLY sorry about any embarrassment it might have caused you, Madame Foster, it won't happen again, I SWEAR! As a matter of fact, I'll get right to…"

Now, it was Wilt's turn to be interrupted; as he stood up to leave, while still talking, the old woman reached out to pick up something from the table beside the chair he'd been sitting in. "Hmmm…now what's THIS?", she inquired, holding up the object in front of her glasses for closer inspection.

Even though the back of the photo in the woman's hand was turned towards Wilt, he KNEW it had to be THAT photo, and realized that either Madame Foster had been playing some sort of cruel game with him all along, or more likely, that this was the first time she'd seen the photo. All of his hopes of being able to get out of this mess were dashed to smitherines as the full reality hit once more: Madame Foster, the owner of this home, and grandmother of the young woman in the photo, actually had the photograph in her hand. There could absolutely be no denial of its existence now, nor any that Wilt was going to rejoin the ranks of the homeless by sundown. A tiny little voice inside his head tried to get him to at least say something in his defense, but his logic told the little voice to shut up. This was it. Holding his breath and biting his trembling lip, Wilt silently waited for the reaction that he knew was inevitable. He'd been so close to getting out of this.

"Aawwww, now isn't that just the sweetest thing! You two really look cute together!"

The little voice lurking in the back of Wilt's mind suddenly saw its chance, and rushed forward to take control of the situation. "OH…uh, heh-heh; that's NOT what it looks like, Madame Foster, really! We just…we just…I mean…I KNOW what it looks like, but…"

"Looks to me like somebody stayed up too late and fell asleep while watching tv, THAT'S what it looks like to me" Madame Foster stated with a "that's THAT" tone.

Wilt just stared in disbelief for several seconds; this was all becoming nearly too surreal to comprehend. First, he thought he was going to be expelled for apparently getting caught in a compromising situation with his hostess's granddaughter, THEN he found out that his hostess was only wanting to remind him to do a better job of washing her car, leading him to believe he was off the hook, for the time being, anyway. THEN, she finds the picture with the alleged compromising situation, and, AND…thinks it's "the sweetest thing"? PLUS, she understands EXACTLY what the picture actually did show-two people who innocently fell asleep, snuggled up on a sofa, while watching television.

"YEAH! That's what happened, for real!" Wilt exclaimed with a rush, sensing that maybe there was hope after all, after so many let-downs. "But, how'd you know that we fell asleep while watching tv? I mean, whoever took that picture apparently wanted you to think something else."

Madame Foster laughed in merry amusement, then answered in a conspiratorial tone, "Why, back in my day, ole' Funny Bunny and I used to fall asleep all the time like that while listening to radio serials-you wouldn't know about those, I guess. We didn't have television back in those days, but we did have weekly programs that came on the radio at night, that we'd listen to. Our favorite was called 'The Shadow'-full of adventure and cliff-hangers, it was. My father forbid anyone staying up past a certain hour, but Herriman and I would sneak off into the living room to listen to the radio after everyone else had gone to bed. Once, we fell asleep while trying to stay up and hear the conclusion, on this very sofa, as a matter of fact! Oh, I thought my father was gonna skin us both alive!" She looked at the photo of Wilt and Frankie, smiling. "Oh, this brings back fond memories, it does!"

Wilt did not quite know how to respond. This clearly was NOT what he'd expected, though he honestly couldn't say he was disappointed in Madame Foster's reaction-just very, very surprised.

"You mean you're not upset? Not even a little?"

"Why, goodness me, no! Why would I be upset? Like I said, this sort of thing happens."

Wilt let out another sigh of relief, wiping his terry cloth wrist band across what sort of amounted to his brow(if his eyes hadn't been ABOVE it). Shaking his head and chuckling with the craziness of the whole thing, he said, "Madame Foster, you don't know HOW relieved I am to hear you say that! All this time, since I found out that someone had snuck in and took a picture of me and Frankie after we fell asleep on the couch, I've been worried half to death that you'd find the picture and assume the worst, and I'd get kicked out!"

"Worst? What do you mean by 'worst'?"

"Well, you know…that me and Frankie had, you know…that we'd…I mean, I'd NEVER do anything like that!"

The old woman frowned, raising her eyebrow once more at the tall Imaginary Friend.

"NEVER? Well, why NOT?"

This last one caught Wilt TOTALLY by surprise, in a way that no statement had ever quite caught him by surprise before. It took him several seconds, or so it seemed, to prepare a response.

"Uh, sorry…could you run that last part by me again?"

Madame Foster continued to frown at him, giving him a look that people normally reserve for addressing those that they consider dimwitted. "I said, 'why NOT'! My granddaughter is an attractive young woman, is she not?"

Wilt replied slowly and cautiously, wondering if he was saying the right thing, or something that would get him in hot water for real, this time, "Yeeessssss…she is, BUT…."

Madame Foster dismissed his reply with a wave of her tiny hand, "Oh, psshaw, I wasn't suggesting that you two go ahead and walk down the aisle together tomorrow, only that if you DID take a fancy to my dear Frankie, it wouldn't bother me in the least!"

For some unaccountable reason, this made Wilt's heart nearly leap out of his chest, and not from fear this time. He felt as if an immense weight, one which had been there for so long he'd gotten used to it, was suddenly lifted from his shoulders, even though a certain amount of incredulity remained. "Let me get this straight, OK? First, you're NOT upset that you saw this picture of Frankie and myself asleep on the sofa, right? AND, you don't mind if I did…I mean, WE did, no-that didn't come out right-whatImtryingtosayis…" Wilt closed both eyes and shook his head slightly, as if to force his brain to come up with something that made sense AND wouldn't get him into trouble.

"Goodness me, I've already told you I wasn't upset" laughed the old lady, "I can't see why that's so hard for you to understand!" Still laughing, she shook her own head, muttering, "Men…I don't know what it is about 'em understanding the simplest things!" She sighed, "Look, Wilt, I know I'm old and you younger folks think I don't know what's going on in the world today, but I keep up with things more than you think! I know there are a lot of bad people out there, waiting to take advantage of a nice young lady like my granddaughter, and that it's tough for a young gal to find the right guy nowadays. Shoot, it was tough enough back in MY day, but I never had to worry about a lot of the things that young women now have to worry about when they're trying to find Mr. Right. Quite honestly, I'd trust you far more than I'd trust a lot of these...these, fellas out there now. At least I know YOU'D never do anything to hurt my granddaughter, or bring her shame."

Wilt could not help grinning, in spite of his continued state of confusion, but something still kept nagging at him. "But what about the rule?" he finally thought to ask; THAT was the thing that was still bothering him.

"Rule? What rule is that, dear?"

"You know, the one that says that Imaginary Friends can't have, uhm, close sorts of relationships with any of the human staff. And since Frankie IS our only human staff…besides you of course, I just thought…"

His hostess rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Hmmm…I don't think I've heard of THAT one. Must be one of those rumors that gets around, and before you know it, everyone's heard it so much that they assume it's true. Seriously, though, I don't think that there is any such rule, and I'M the one who makes up all the rules around here, so what I say goes!"

It was all Wilt could do to keep from leaping with joy at that moment; and to think, just a few minutes ago, he was certain that he was going to be tossed out on the streets, and now, well, everything had a way of working itself out, didn't it? Madame Foster regained her business-like composure and spoke up, "Now, what was it that we were talking about before I found this photo…OH, yes, my BABY! Now, I've got canasta tomorrow evening over at the Senior Center, and that Jherkins and her crowd is gonna be there, and I simply CAN NOT have a repeat of last Wednesday night's debacle! I want that car washed, waxed, buffed, vacuumed, detailed, the whole kit 'n kaboodle! And there'd better not be ONE speck of dirt on her anywhere, got it?"

"Oh, yeah, I GOT it, Madame Foster! When I get through with that baby, she'll be so shiny, people'll havta wear shades at night when you drive by 'em! She's gonna have so much bling-bling that ole' Jherkins'll think she's on the strip in Vegas when she walks out into that parkin' lot! Matter of fact, I think I'm gonna go get started on her right away!"

Wilt turned on his heels to leave, his grin once more spreading from one side of his face literally to the other, a spring in his step that he hadn't had since that morning, when Madame Foster cleared her throat to get his attention. As he turned back towards her, she reached up to hand him the photo.

"Here, you might want to keep this. If it gets seen by the wrong set of eyes, it might stir all sorts of trouble. You know how people do love to talk and get all into everyone else's business! Besides, you never know…it might be good for some fond memories one of these days!" she said, winking up at him as he took the photo from her hand.

"Sure thing, Madame Foster! And, if nobody has ever told you before, you're the GREATEST hostess an Imaginary Friend could EVER have!"

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Meanwhile, outside of the locked double doors to Madame Foster's chambers, a very despondent-looking pair sat on the floor, backs to the wall, awaiting the worst of news. "You're gonna haveta tell him, you know. It's only fair, Bloo, that Wilt knows who caused all this."

"I guess you're right", sighed Bloo, still gazing down at the floor. "Just don't tell me I have to apologize for it, too!"

Before Mac could respond, they both heard the sound of a lock clicking open, and one of the two heavy wooden doors swung open with a slight creak, revealing the tall, lanky form of Wilt.

"Wilt! You're out already! How'd it go? Eduardo told me about the photograph-you aren't gonna get thrown out, are you?" asked the worried eight-year-old.

"Mac! Bloo! Good to see you, how's it goin'? Wilt replied, a huge grin on his face, as he approached the two with even more spring in his step than usual.

"But", began Mac, "I thought Madame Foster just called you in there to chew you out about that photograph, you know, the one with you and Frankie?"

"Oh, you mean this one?" Wilt answered with a question, holding up the Polaroid in his hand. "Naawwww, everything's cool with this! She just wanted to remind me to take a little more care when washing her car, that's all. No big deal. Look, guys, I'd love to hang out with y'all and everything, but I just promised Madame Foster I'd get started on her car right away-big canasta game tomorrow night, and that Jherkins is gonna be there. You know-the one from the bowlin' alley? Gotta make sure that Madame Foster's ride is totally off-the-chain, know what I'm sayin'?"

"Uh, yeah…sure, I know what you mean…I think" Mac said, confusion and relief simultaneously settling in on his face as he watched Wilt head down the hallway, whistling happily to himself.

"Wellll…now THAT all worked itself out, didn't it? I TOLD you that there'd be nothin' to worry about, and I was right, now wasn't I? Bloo smirked, sauntering over to his creator, his short little arms folded behind his back in an infuriatingly smug manner.

"So, I guess this means you aren't going to tell him, are you?"

"Tell him what? Oh, THAT. No, I don't see any useful purpose in telling Wilt. You saw how happy he was. Far be from ME to burst his bubble! Everything worked itself out for the best, just like I SAID it would all along!" Bloo turned to walk away from the boy, hands still folded smugly behind his back, then added, "Besides, you know what they say, 'what you don't know can't hurt you'!"

Mac just shook his head, and turned to follow him.