The local history of the Blue Martini had a long, sometimes sordid past, but never a dull one. Built in 1921 on the crossroads of Main and Bernhardt in downtown Toontown, the sagging wooden building had always attracted a myriad of toons from all walks of life. Half of those in attendance each night were degenerates and half were stars, roaming the winding interior of the ancient structure that had hosted some of the most incredible, and sometimes the most heartbreaking, moments of many toons' lives. The Blue Martini seemed to a have life unto itself, almost as if it were completely unconcerned with the cares that toons brought with them into the interior; doors shifted locations frequently, as did things like floorboards, tables and chairs. Some nights the piano was on the ceiling and some nights the mirrors were on the floor. Some nights the speakers would refuse to play any record that wasn't jazz; other nights rock or blues. One was never quite sure what the night would bring when spending it at the Blue Martini.

A fire in 1933 had nearly destroyed the entire building. All who gazed upon her the night of the disaster swore she was gone for good, only to return the next morning to find the Martini standing tall as if nothing had touched her in all the years of history. Inside, toons had dreamed, drank, and died; some had had affairs, some arranged deals, some rocketed to stardom while others faded into obscurity. It had been a home to nobodies, a home to superstars, and a homage to all those who came before them; the Martini almost seemed to taunt those within her, as if daring them to believe that the night would last forever and that they might, too. Ghosts of the past were the constant company of the souls who gravitated to the Martini. It was said that every toon who had ever existed had walked through those doors at least once in their lives and always let a little bit of themselves behind when they went.

Yakko hadn't been inside since the night he watched his brother leave in handcuffs, screaming desperately for him to help while Yakko drifted to the back of the crowd as unnoticeably as he could. Yakko had fiercely promised himself that he would never again enter the place unless something worse had happened and he was in need of that special kind of therapy that only the Blue Martini could provide to a heartbroken toon. Tonight was the night.

The place didn't look much different than when he'd last been there, almost fifteen years ago, and probably didn't look noticeably different from when it first opened its doors in 1921. Like a divine grace, the Blue Martini was meant to be. It had seen some of the best and worst years of the Warners' lives, and Yakko didn't take that sentimentality lightly. His head danced with memories of the times he'd had between these walls, of all the sorrows and joys that it had seen in the saga of the Warner family. Reminiscences came quickly now and without aid. People, ideas, and snippets of conversations he hadn't thought of in years cascaded through his being roughly and devoid of censure. He sighed into his drink and didn't notice a faded cartoon cat drift towards him.

"Well, Yakko Warner. Never thought I'd see you in the Blue Martini ever again."

Yakko looked up at the speaker and gasped. "Gloria?"

Gloria smiled faintly and sat down, a cigarette in her left hand. "The one and only."

"My God. I haven't seen you in years."

"Strange how fate brings people back together, hm?"

Yakko watched with amazement the trademark Gloria smile as it curled up around her lips. "You haven't changed a bit," Yakko said a little breathlessly.

Gloria had been the only other woman besides Babs that Yakko Warner had ever seriously considered spending the rest of his life with. Women had come and gone, leaving behind little more than a few indifferent memories in their wake, but Gloria had inhabited Yakko's imagination long after they stopped seeing each other almost twenty years ago. Deep down, he knew that if Babs hadn't come along, he would have pined for Gloria for the rest of his life; he also knew that pining would have done no good. Gloria was out of his reach – always had been, always would be. She belonged to no one but herself. Over the years, more toons than is possible to count had fallen desperately in love with her only to be brushed off by the toon royalty of the 1920's. Her sultry eyes and mystic aura was like a magnet for toon males, and Yakko had simply been one more who'd been ensnared.

"I have changed, and you know it," Gloria said, stubbing out her cigarette and lighting another. "You can practically see through me."

Yakko studied Gloria's faded form and grimaced. "So your outlines are a little hazy. But you – I mean, you – are exactly the same. Why not go get re-inked, honey?"

"Why bother?" she said softly, looking at him straight in the eye.

Yakko raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'why bother'? If a toon doesn't go get re-inked every now and then, they'll fade away. You want that to happen?"

"I don't want to last forever."

"Come on. You never even got colored. You said 'no' at the height of color re-inking in the 1950's."

"I was drawn black and white, and I'll fade black and white," Gloria said stoically. "I've never given a damn what the other toons are doing."

"Yeah, but, you must only be on your third or fourth ink. I mean, that's antique for someone who's been around as long as you, Gloria. You'll crack and fade. You can't tell me that after all these years you're going to let yourself fade," Yakko said hurriedly. "You're a legend, Gloria. The world needs you."

"Why do you think they call us old toons 'washed up'? Looks like we've been through a washer a few times, right? Honey, I'm done with cartoons. I just don't want to do them anymore. Every time I get re-inked, suddenly I'm forced into a 'come-back special' and I have to talk about me and Scooby's old cartoons. I'm tired of that, Yakko. Toons are always talking about the 'good old days.' No computer generations. No color. No toon laws. Hell, those were awful days. We were worked to death. Our animators didn't know shit about us, and we sure as hell didn't know shit about ourselves. Toon physics is a weird and complicated thing, and things weren't as flawless and painless as they are today. Mistakes were made in the old style of animation that cost some toons their lives. Why would I want to relieve those days? Anyway, you know what they say, baby. 'Glorious Black and White,' eh? Well, I'm just Gloria, Black and White. See?" She exhaled slowly. "But no one ever brings anything small into the Martini. I'm just part of the background now, but you – why are you here?"

Yakko averted his gaze. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"Oh, but you want to talk about ancient history, hm?"

"You and Babs were the only women I ever felt like I could talk to," he responded with a smile. "Why did it never work between us, hm?"

"Two different generations of toons, Yak," Gloria said. "Scooby and I were drawn to be together. That's a powerful thing. Leading anyone else on would have just been unfair on my part." Gloria smiled, eager to change the subject. "You and Babs still together then?" Yakko nodded and she smiled wider. "You two compliment each other. I was relieved when you gave me up and found her. When are you going to marry that girl?"

He shifted nervously. "I…I don't know, Gloria. Maybe never."

"Never is a long time. Believe me, I know. What's with this attitude, anyway? The Yakko Warner I know used to tell everyone exactly what they should do; he never had trouble making up his mind about a thing."

"Things have changed."

Gloria looked at him strangely. "Why do I have the feeling this has something to do with your brother and sister?"

"Uncanny," Yakko said with a small smile. "First time you've seen me in fifteen years, and you know exactly what's on my mind."

"I've been around for a while," Gloria said. "I know a problem when I see it. Especially when it pertains to the Warners."

Yakko sighed painfully. "I made a mess of everything, Gloria. Just a fucking mess."

"Then I suggest you do something to fix it."

"Gee, thanks, I never thought of that," Yakko said sarcastically.

"Obviously."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded.

"It means if you really wanted to do something about it, you wouldn't be sitting on your ass at the Blue Martini talking to an ex-girlfriend and feeling sorry for yourself, that's what." Gloria stubbed her cigarette out. "Don't be like all the other toons in this town, Yakko. Most of them are whiny assholes who never do anything to improve their situation. The reason I liked you so many years ago is because you weren't like that. I'm sure Babs feels the same way. What would she think of you, sitting here and whining into your drink?"

Yakko didn't have a response for that, so instead he spat, "You don't know anything about my situation. You don't know anything about my family."

"I know a helluva lot more than you think I do, so don't even try to use that excuse on me. It doesn't protect you from any part of your emotions. You should know that by now," Gloria said evenly. "I remember the last time you were here, Yakko. I'm sure you do too. Your little brother had nearly killed some guy sitting at the bar because the guy had insulted him about something incidental. When a toon is expecting a beating, he remains unhurt – but take a toon by surprise, and he's as vulnerable as any human. The guy had said the wrong thing to the wrong person. I don't remember what he said to Wakko. What was it about, Yakko?" she asked softly.

"Me," Yakko replied in a shaky voice, with his face in his hands. "It was about me. Please, Gloria, let's not do this…"

"Come on, baby, you have to get past this," Gloria whispered to him. "If you don't, it'll haunt you the rest of your days. It has controlled you too long already. Come on now. The guy said something to your brother about you."

"About my not having any talent," Yakko whispered back. "Said I talked too much because I had no talent. I was making up for my lack of talent. It's what everyone said, Gloria. Everyone said it."

"Not everyone, Yakko. Not even close."

"Yes, yes they did…"

"No. You've had that guy's voice in your head for fifteen years, haven't you? That voice has reverberated off every part of your brain, making it seem like every toon alive said it. Every insecurity, every mistake all comes back to that voice, doesn't it?"

"Yes."

"And your brother knew it wasn't true. He didn't handle it in the best way, Yakko, but he handled it in the way he knew how. Wakko was famous for smashing things up. That's how he made his name. Smashing things up."

"Yeah. He smashed that guy up pretty good."

"It's all he knew how to do. So he did it. And he didn't stop until the cops showed up, did he?"

"No. Just kept smashing him up."

"Because that drunk, dumbass of a toon said something he shouldn't have about Wakko Warner's older brother. When the cops showed up they handcuffed your brother, and your brother started yelling for you. Didn't he?"

"To help him. He started yelling at me to help him. And I didn't. I just let him go…"

"Of all the things your brother did in this town, the one that really got him in trouble was what happened right here. And he just kept yelling in that hollow voice for you. I was sitting with you, remember?"

"Yeah."

"And they dragged him away. You finished your martini and you left. Haven't seen you since then."

"I hate myself for it. The one time I should have helped him…the one time he was doing something for me instead of for himself…and I left him."

"Yakko." Yakko looked up in Gloria's face. Her expression was compassionate. "You didn't leave anyone. He came back, didn't he? That's why you're here tonight. This is the only place you felt you could come to. The place where this all started."

Yakko swallowed a sob. "Jesus Gloria, I didn't even tell him that I had missed him all these years," he said softly.

Gloria held Yakko's face in her hands, not allowing him to look away. "He forgave you, Yakko. He forgave you. Now you have to forgive yourself. You must if you are to fix anything in your life and move on. Your guilt is what is tearing your whole family apart. You want to help your family? Say you forgive yourself. And mean it."

"I can't…"

"You can."

"I'm the older brother! Abandonment of my younger brother isn't what I'm supposed to do."

"If it hadn't been here, it would have been somewhere else. If he came back, he must be ready to turn his life around. He must not hold you accountable anymore. Can't you see? This is everyone's second chance. Everyone's. Even yours."

"But – "

"Enough of this. This is not you, Yakko Warner. If you want to fix this – the only way is to forgive yourself first." Gloria sighed. "Let go, Yakko. It's not worth living with anymore."

Something in the honesty of Gloria's words sent a wave of relief over Yakko. He looked over to the bar where the whole ugly scene had gone down that had been tormenting him for so many years. He swallowed hard; if he was to help himself, Harpo and Wakko, he couldn't let that night preoccupy him any longer. It had been fifteen very long years. And it had to stop tonight. It was either forgiveness or the end of the Warner family. "Ok, Gloria," Yakko said in a scratchy voice. "I forgive myself."

It immediately felt as though the weight of a thousand moons had suddenly been lifted from Yakko Warner's shoulders, and he smiled from the relief. The room instantly appeared brighter and more alive; Gloria didn't look quite so faded. She smiled. "It changes the world when a toon forgives themselves," she said. "I don't know why, but it's true. Now you can do this, Yakko. Now you can do what you need to do."

"I have a lot to set right," Yakko admitted, grabbing his coat and leaving his drink unfinished. "But I bet you anything that the oldest Warner can do it."

"I know he can," she answered with a grin.

"One thing – promise you'll get re-inked."

The worried look on Yakko's face touched a deep part of Gloria. No one had showed real concern for her in decades. She smiled. "All right. On one condition."

"Name it."

"Marry Babs."

Yakko smiled widely. "Deal, Gloria. It's a deal."