Author's Note: You wouldn't know just by reading the end part, but Frankie and Mr. Herriman decided it'd be a good idea when I wrote this to fight me and had other, more adult ideas in mind at four in the morning. Heh, heh.

At any rate, it's too early to make any other cracks and Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends does not belong to me.

Chapter Five: Avoidance

Shyly, glancing down at the carpet once more, he replied, "That's because I never told her what happened…"

Shock, quickly replaced by anger, fueled the flame burning in her jade eyes. Frankie glared heatedly, furious he'd worried her so much and yet, explained nothing. She opened her mouth to snap, but he started swiftly, sensing a reprimand. Yes, he knew he'd frightened both her and her grandmother, but there was a reason….

The austere Business Manager at Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends had, if anything, grown more severe over night. Then again, given his recent encounter, one might be prone to pity, since it was obviously a façade to prevent any questions. Given most imaginary friends tended to abstain from curiosity as far as Mr. Herriman was concerned, his abruptly gruff attitude and castigation was never inquired about, merely grumbled under breaths in less than polite terms. Because he doubted there was a way to entirely cover up the incident, he settled for pacing his office in search of an excuse to explain the very real terror he'd experienced to Madame Foster. Anxiously, his paw continually stroked his collar and the large bandage he'd inexpertly applied to the wound.

According to the schedule he'd devised, Madame Foster was due to return any minute now. The knowledge sped his heart, already pounding, and slicked his paws beneath the gloves. Thank goodness for fur; otherwise, she'd realize just how profusely he sweated. Add that to the emotions leaked over, his frantic block of their link, and lying would not only be unlikely, but impossible. He only hoped that, despite the fact she'd created him, he might be able to evade her.

Admitting to what happened meant admitting he'd jeopardized his life and left Foster's unattended as well. In the hours the beast had been hunting him, no one was in charge of the house. He'd shirked on his duties, nearly gotten himself killed in the process, and expected a reprimand. However, since he didn't plan on telling her anything, the lecture could remain unspoken and unacknowledged. Besides, she had Frankie to worry about…and, at her age, adding to her load, he decided, wasn't terribly wise.

A car door slamming interrupted his illogical reasoning and, forcing composure, he hopped into the foyer. A passing imaginary friend, a slithering plant-like creature with roses for heads that snapped at his paws as it strode away, induced a shudder. Normally, he'd scoff, but today, he was exceedingly jumpy. The creature snickered, clacking its Venus flytrap teeth, and then drifted into another section of the house.

Clack, clack, clack of a cane on wood entered his large ears and he wrung his paws agitatedly. Wilt, who hadn't seen Frankie off because of a slight cold, stopped to glance at him concernedly. Anyone who had been around the large imaginary rabbit for years as Wilt had knew his nervous habits and, because he cared about all the friends in the house, opened his mouth to ask. Mr. Herriman glared at him so fiercely, he stammered an apology (even Wilt wondered what he apologized for all the time), and retreated.

The door creaked open, sounding very much like a casket edged to reveal the corpse inside. Swallowing hard, he steeled himself for a grilling the likes of which he'd never been subjected to previously. One could have heard a pin drop, since all the imaginary friends who might have waited anxiously to see her had shied away from the fanatical Mr. Herriman. If he'd been able to control his reactions, he would have prevented that, as it further communicated something was wrong. He fingered his collar nervously once more.

"Well, where's my welcoming committee?" she said jovially, as though she hadn't spent the entire car ride back fretting over him.

"Good afternoon, Madame," he replied, forcing a smile. "Welcome back. I trust you had a satisfactory trip?"

She gazed at him keenly and, dully, he realized he wasn't going to get off the hook that easily. Desperate, he glanced behind him, hoping someone would crop up and distract her. However, since everyone was either in their room thanks to a bizarre, nonsensical punishment or else evading the imaginary rabbit, none came to his aid. He, praying one would spring from the woodwork, scrutinized the stairway. A sharp rap on his paw, still tender from last night's "adventure", brought his attention back to her.

"What happened last night?" she inquired, all jocularity gone. "You blocked me. You never block me."

Uneasy, he failed to meet her eyes. No brilliant diversion tactics divulged themselves to him, no thoughtful dissertations, nothing that could possibly derail her train. Yet there had to be something. Maybe if he offered a feeble lie, she'd buy it. Of course, the fact his paw was now throbbing over a rap that shouldn't have hurt as much as it did was beside the point. He hated the notion of deceiving her, but it appealed more than telling the truth.

"Ah, well, there was a minor skirmish here. Nothing to fret about, Madame," he replied, laughing heartily and unconvincingly. Her eyes narrowed to slits.

"You're lying," she snapped, hobbling over to his office to discuss it in private. Mr. Herriman hesitated, aware that the longer this conversation lasted, the greater chance she'd back him into a corner. Perhaps she was entitled to the reality of what happened, but not now. Maybe never…worrying his creator unduly was not something he enjoyed. He remembered hurting his paw and not telling her about it until she suddenly appeared in his office, whacked him with her pocketbook, and told him they were getting it treated whether he liked it or not.

"Of course not! Madame, why would I do that? There was a skirmish, I grappled with the imaginaries in question, and then it was dealt with. There is nothing to concern yourself with," he said and then, bowing politely, hopped into his office. Dubious, she followed. When he hefted himself into his luxurious, cushiony chair, she settled into the one in front of his desk.

"You may be able to fool Wilt, Eduardo, Coco, or any number of the imaginary friends who live here, but you can't fool me. I created you. The terror I felt from you wasn't over a fight…and even if it was, that doesn't explain why you blocked me for hours.

"I'm not asking you to pull a thorn from your side, so why are you deliberately lying to me?" she fired and he cringed, unconsciously edging his chair away. He glanced out the window, but there was no post. After all, today was Sunday.

And, naturally, his wound chose this opportunity to trouble him. His paw flew to the spot on his collar under which it lay, but her eyes scoured every movement he made and he reluctantly lowered it. Several exceeding long minutes passed where Madame Foster tried to lure him into speaking and he obstinately kept his mouth shut. The ringing doorbell caused him to shoot out of his seat and dash-hop. He barely managed to hide the slight limp.

Madame Foster's cane sounded behind him and he hurriedly opened the door. A family ready to adopt, nothing unusual in that. A little boy with brown hair, blue eyes, a bucktooth, and a silly pink hat was muttering about someone named "Gary" and his mother hushed him. Excellent, an opportunity to further business and occupy himself instead of answering questions. Though he normally never gave tours himself, he decided to lead them through, all the while dodging his creator's distinct and jarring inquiries.

"She couldn't have given up that easily, though," Frankie pointed out, once he'd stopped orating. The moonlight streamed unabated through her open curtains, billowing in the breeze gently. A few stray stars shone brightly; a clear, beautiful night, just like that night. Perturbed, he returned his gaze to her and not bygones.

"No, she did not. But eventually, she decided that she would try to catch me unaware in the hopes it would work better. Nonetheless, I've managed to elude her successfully for years…" he trailed off, aware it was hardly an accomplishment. Now that his tale had drawn to a close, he wondered why he'd ventured forth in the first place. What had he been expecting? Sympathy? Affection?

The decisions that had led to him waking her and the motives behind them had faded away. She still hadn't indicated he hadn't wasted her time, but at least she remembered. He sighed, glancing at the moon once more. Many creatures had searched it for the answers, but wherever they hid, he never unearthed them.

"Don't you think she deserves to know?" she murmured, hesitantly resting a hand on his paw again. His other jumped back to massage his collar and, scowling, she laid that on the bed as well. Both paws pinned, he had no choice but to pay attention. Why on earth was he acting like a fidgety child tonight? It made him feel so much younger…

Swallowing hard, he sought a diplomatic response, but she somehow understood. Squeezing his paw affectionately, she eyed the collar and released his paws. Sighing heavily, he removed it and her fingers flew to the scar running down his throat. Her touch was like silk against his skin and he shivered happily, not complaining when she lingered. The world shrank from the house and all the occupants to the two of them; her breath gently issuing forth, his own held, her finger roaming through his fur, and the quietness eclipsing their souls. In that instant, his heart soared and he truly felt as though he'd found a kindred spirit.

Her eyes met his and a tacit agreement passed between the two. She leaned forward and then jerked away guiltily, yanking her hand off his neck. Blushing heavily, face matching her hair, she laughed nervously, back to watching her feet swing back and forth. Even the back of her neck was scarlet.

Likewise, Mr. Herriman's skin blazed underneath the fur as he hurriedly reapplied his collar. An awkward silence descended, neither willing to voice the possibilities of their proximity and their faces' heat. In fact, the room, which had seemed so hospitable before, was now positively stifling. Frankie leapt up, wrenched the window completely open to permit a freezing wind to penetrate, and then shoved her head out. Meanwhile, Mr. Herriman fanned himself idly, picking up a stray stuffed rabbit that turned out to be her favorite. Redder than before, he tossed it aside, a blushing fur ball.

"I…I should go to bed," he stammered, observing her gulp down air in the vain hopes it might diminish her blush. It did absolutely nothing but cause her to resemble a guppy out of water. Still, he hesitated, possessed by an insane urge to hug her.

"Are you going to be okay?" she replied, dragging her head back out and shutting the window. She shivered, rubbing her hands along her arms. Mr. Herriman frowned, hopping to her side to run his paws atop her hands in an effort to warm her further. She smiled weakly, about to move away when he hugged her tightly. Indecisive, desiring the closeness but at the same time fearing it, she charily wrapped her arms around him. Their hearts pounded in their chests and she inclined her head once more.

"I…I suppose so, Miss Fran-Frankie," he said, stopping himself. He was rewarded with a smile like a sunbeam. Instantly, the frigidity vanished, replaced by warmth flooding him. He had an insane idea to say something he'd normally never even contemplate, much less verbalize, but a glance at the clock stilled his tongue. It was four o'clock, far too late to start anything.

"You sure? You don't want me to stay in your room with you until you fall asleep, do you?" she inquired innocently, contrary to all the Freudian slips flitting through her head that had the good grace to stay there, despite their struggle.

"Well, actually…" he blushed again and then thought better of it. If anyone saw her coming out of his room in the morning, they might put the dots together (even if they hadn't yet). Reluctantly, he freed her from his embrace, though she didn't let go until a few seconds afterwards. The two gazed into each other's eyes until he turned away, swallowing hard and wondering why on earth all these thoughts were circulating at four in the morning.

"I believe I will be fine."

And, for the remainder of the 'night', he was.