Chapter Five: Discovery

Several terse months passed after Frankie and Madame Foster discovered Herriman's secret and the poor imaginary rabbit bucked under pressure. Three quarters of his time was spent barricaded in his office, now coded to prevent any stealthy entrances. He periodically reappeared during meals and many murmured about his drooping whiskers and haggardness. Madame Foster attempted conversation to no avail. He blocked anything but business.

That, unfortunately, extended to her granddaughter and his unrequited love. If the others saw Herriman scarcely at meals, she never had that privilege. The few times she spotted him; he hopped away swiftly and refused to speak. Once, he left her standing before the open kitchen door.

Frankie sighed and raised her knuckles to knock on his office door. This was her fault entirely and she pitied him, but, on the other hand, she feared that day long ago and his woven spell. Unfortunately, her grandmother's words and her own guilt overwhelmed her. She was the only one who could break him free and she knew how deeply concerned Madame Foster was.

"State your business. If it is improper, please go elsewhere. I am in no mood for trivial matters," his voice played, cold and formal.

It shouldn't irk me he's clandestine again, but it does. It shouldn't tear me apart to realize I've done all this to him, but if I didn't, I don't think I'd be human. He's so miserable and it's all my fault…

"Mr. H, it's me…" she said and when there was no response, she whispered her name. The doors creaked open slowly and she was reminded of visiting the wizard of Oz, only instead of seeing a façade, she saw the real thing first. A morose rabbit slumped over his desk; papers piled up, some long forgotten. In fact, his normally immaculate office had dirt and grime everywhere. She swallowed the lump in her throat and sat before his desk.

On the far corner of his desk, clearly a new addition, sat a picture of her, Mac, Bloo, and the rest. Herriman slumped on the other side of the frame and refused to touch Coco, licking the umbrella. She smiled weakly; it must be the only picture he had of her he liked. Unlike everything else, it remained dirt free.

"Miss Frances, there is no need for you to be here. It is not Saturday and it is far too late for any adoptions. If you are finished wasting my valuable time-" he began, clearing his throat and shuffling a stack of papers closest to him. Frankie rose, fire burning in her eyes. For some odd reason, seeing him behave like he had all her life irritated the hell out of her. Maybe because she knew now he was holding everything back. Maybe because she knew where the blame solely belonged and she couldn't take it anymore.

"Knock it off, would you? You're not fooling anyone! Grandma's worried sick about you!" Frankie retorted and folded her arms across her chest. He regarded her coolly, like one might observe a particularly boring insect. Biting back a snarl, she strode to his side. If she had to slap some sense into him, then she would.

"And what of you? Are you concerned at all, Frankie?" he whispered. "Or are you here to do my creator's bidding? Or because you feel guilty?"

She was tempted to look away, but couldn't. He'd hit the nail on the head. But was that the only reason she was here? Were there reasons she wasn't acknowledging?

"I…" she murmured, unclear where she was going. Mr. Herriman nodded curtly and gestured her back to her seat. He refrained from touching her.

"You must not feel guilty. This is not your fault. It is mine for being foolhardy. Now, will you leave?" he pleaded. "I have work to do."

"Work that's piled up on your desk? I'm the only person you've seen in weeks other than adopters and you're not shoving me out. You're also not shouldering the blame. Nice try," she snapped and stubbornly dragged the chair to his side. His eyes widened, probably because he hadn't considered the option she wouldn't listen. Slamming the chair down, their fingertips brushed and he exhaled sharply.

"Frankie…you cannot remain here…I have work…" he protested weakly. "You have verified I am all right-"

"You're not all right! You're avoiding everyone and blaming yourself for everything! You won't even listen to your creator. You keep running away from the problem…and I refuse to leave. What are you going to do about that? Fire me? Shove me out of your office? I'll come back. I'm not going anywhere, period."

Mr. Herriman blinked wearily and smiled weakly. He should have figured Frankie would never retreat like he did. It was one of her traits he admired. She was upfront, whereas he shunted his feelings to the side until they festered. Unable to express himself, he simply hoped they'd go away. If anything, they'd intensified painfully and being alone with her made him want to act upon them badly. She had to leave.

"Frankie, you do not understand. When I see you, I want what I can never have. I fear I will lose control. You are far too open- being around you would destroy me," he whispered and turned away from her. Charily, aware all encounters with him began this way, she placed a hand on his shoulder. He started and then lowered her hand to his lips to kiss it. Then, he pressed his furry face against her arm.

Shivering but at a loss why, she wrapped her other arm around his neck and leaned against him. Mr. Herriman sighed happily and clung to her. Warmth flooded through him and he forgot why she was here in the first place. Even though he was covered in fur, she was soft to him and he brushed his cheek against her arm. Frankie gasped and started to retreat, then thought better of it. She had to weather this storm for both their sakes.

"I repulse you that much?" he whispered and she sighed, trying to figure out how to word her response without further damaging his apparently fragile ego. The hand on his shoulder stroked his fur. So warm and soft…she lost herself.

Stroking his fur intrinsically soothed her in an impossible to explain way. His breaths came in shallow gasps, but he never protested. No thoughts flitted through her mind, nothing at all. There was just his gray white fur and its exquisiteness against her palm. She could do this forever.

"Miss Frances? Frankie?" he interrupted. "Is there any reason you feel you must pet me?"

Frankie blinked and glanced at the clock. Five minutes had passed and he'd let her get away with it. Blushing heavily, she blinked again at the word "pet". She'd never entirely considered Herriman an animal. Sure, she might have ranted about him being a "crazy rabbit", but he was far too civilized to be an animal, albeit an imaginary one. He was an incredibly soft, furry person…with rabbit ears and a fluffy tail. Yes, she confused herself too.

"I…sorry, Mr. H…" she said sheepishly, but when she lifted her hand, he clasped it. Gingerly, he extracted his paw from his glove and placed it atop. Breathless, Frankie stared blankly. Other than bathing, he never removed those. He preferred not to soil himself with the common folk. The last time they'd been alone, he'd done this too. Blood rushed to her face- why was it when he acted affectionately, she had to react strongly? Maybe because otherwise, he was a closed book.

"Frankie…" he murmured and kissed her hand. Spellbound, she stood flabbergasted as the chair swung around and she landed in his lap. He wrapped his arms around her waist and cradled her to his chest. Frankie hadn't drawn a breath for the past thirty seconds.

Distantly, the thought occurred to her that this was supposed to be a nice, civil conversation and somehow, inexplicably, she'd ended up here. But she wasn't displeased at all. A grin spread across her face and she rested comfortably against him. She wasn't sure if she thought he was a big, fluffy stuffed animal or just incredibly soft. He cupped her chin in his palm and gently tilted it in his direction.

Dizzy, she shut her eyes and shivered pleasantly. The instant his lips brushed hers, there was a sharp rap on the door and he accidentally dropped her. Frankie released her held breath explosively and stared. Madame Foster, mouth agape, scrutinized her granddaughter and imaginary friend and she was not happy.

…

"Maaaac," Bloo called, grinning devilishly. His creator peeked through a half open eyelid and then shut it again. The two lay alone in his room since everyone else had found somewhere else to be. Besides, they were no fools. They knew something more than friendship developed between the two, even if Bloo and Mac refused to acknowledge it.

Over the last two months, odd affectionate displays cropped up everywhere. Bloo frequently greeted his creator with not only a flying hug, but a peck on the hands and, once, on the cheek. He found excuses to linger near by and touch him. When they watched TV, for example, he plopped into Mac's lap and curled up. He was like a cat, only this cat had a crush.

When asked, Bloo provided a standard excuse, only they fell pitifully flat. The truth was he enjoyed Mac's company a little too much. He tried to follow him home only to be kicked sky high by Terrence. Bruises on his stomach disappeared two days later; the only thing hurt after that was his pride.

"I'm tired, Bloo," he moaned and rolled over. Bloo scowled and hopped, pushing against his chest. The only thing this accomplished was dropping his arm around him. Bloo halted, temporarily too stunned to complain. He glanced up at his creator and another mischievous idea struck.

Licking his lips, he leaned on his stubby blobby arms and kissed him. Mac froze and stopped breathing for so long, Bloo panicked and started apologizing. Slowly, his eyes opened and he stared blankly at his creation. Five minutes passed (Bloo apologized more in that time than Wilt had in the past month) and the truth dawned slowly on him that Mac wasn't suffering a heart attack.

To his surprise (and irritation), the brown haired boy smiled and snuggled closer. His lips brushed Bloo's and he wrapped his arms around him. Bloo, befuddled, lost track of whatever he wanted to snap. The heat from his body and his proximity silenced him.

"I love you too," he whispered and cradled him. "But lemme sleep."

Bloo, flushed, merely nodded and shut his own eyes. He didn't want to leave his arms…ever.

…