Chapter Seven

Ralph stood still, his eyes fixated on the sky above the desert, watching Pam fly around in the jammies. Her flying had gotten much better with practice... he even had to admit her flights looked better than his own.

Suddenly, Pam began to do a fishtail and before Ralph knew it... Pam did a belly flop into the ocean. Ralph ran across the sand to get to her, but couldn't reach the shore. He kept treading sand. The water was in view, but he couldn't reach it, no matter how far or how fast he ran.

Ralph's knee gave out and he fell face-first into the sand. He didn't move for a moment, then finally raised his head. In front of him, he saw a pair of bare feet. He looked up and found Methier grinning down at him. Methier held a gun trained at Ralph's head. Methier thumbed the hammer and his grin faded. The gun fired and the world went black...

Ralph shot up in bed, breathing heavily, partly from the dream and partly from not being able to get air through his stuffy nose. He sucked in air through his mouth the best he could and almost felt as though he was hyper ventilating. He turned his head to look at Pam's side of the bed and found it empty. He looked at the clock.

'Ten thirty?' he thought. Sure enough, sunlight was trickling through the closed blinds the best it could. Ralph ran a hand through his curls and made a face. With or without the dream, he still felt horrible.

His entire body felt achy and his knee was throbbing. He couldn't decide whether to pull up the few blankets on the bed or kick them off, as one moment he felt chilled, and the next he was sweating.

Ralph groaned... then his eyes widened. He got up as quickly and carefully as he could and made his way out the bedroom door, around the corner, and into the bathroom.

He came back out a few minutes later, now wearing sweat pants, having changed from the pajamas he was sure that Pam had helped him into but didn't remember. He moved slowly, a hand resting on his stomach. Horrible wasn't a strong enough adjective anymore... Ralph couldn't find the right word and decided to keep his mind preoccupied by coming up with a new word to describe just how he felt.

He crossed through the living room, headed for the kitchen. It seemed like it took an eternity just to get to the dining room table, which was where he spotted a small piece of paper. He leaned against the table and picked it up.

"Ralph, went with Bill to work on a few 'scenarios.' Will try to be back around noon to see if you're up for lunch. Hope you're feeling better, Pam," Ralph read aloud, his voice cracking slightly and sounding even more nasal than before. He made a face, then put the note back down on the table, and continued to the kitchen.

He stopped at the fridge and pulled out a small glass bottle, with a 7-Up label. He set it on the counter and opened a cabinet just above and pulled out a glass and closed the cabinet, then opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle opener. He opened the bottle, then put the opener back, clsoing the drawer, and filled half of the glass with the clear soda, leaving what was left in the bottle on the counter. He went to sit at the kitchen table. His eyes narrowed, focusing on a still-sealed envelope on the table.

Ralph reached slowly across the table, resting a finger on the corner of the envelope and slid it closer to him. He fought with it for a few moments before it finally opened. Inside, he found ten one-hundred-dollar bills... the prize money from the contest. He wasn't sure if everything that'd happened to him was worth the thousand dollars.

He started and finished the half a glass of 7-up in one try. Ralph set the empty glass back on the table and sat back, glancing around the kitchen. His gaze rested on the window... where he could've sworn he'd just seen a shadow quickly disappear.

"Who's out there?" Try as he could, he could not sound threatening at all with his voice the way it was--not that he thought he could've sounded all that threatening when he felt fine, but that was beside the point. He listened for a moment, just hearing his own louder breathing. It was a few moments before he could make out branches rustling.

Ralph was just getting to his feet when the back door was kicked in and Jesse and Gunnar stepped in. He was in big trouble...

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"How's that holograph coming, Counselor?" Bill asked, leaning against the car. He looked down at Pam, who was using the side mirror, attempting to get said holograph.

She shook her head. "I'm not getting anything off of this." Pam held up the shirt she'd been attempting to holograph off of, which was the polo shirt Ralph had been wearing the previous day.

Bill sighed. "We'll trying something else, then..." He took the shirt and leaned in the back window of the car, fishing around for something else to use.

Pam sighed, now empty-handed, and glanced at the mirror again, this time she saw the edges of the mirror turn wavy. "Wait a minute, Bill... I think I'm getting something!"

"Counselor, you're not even holding anything!" Bill said, matter of factly. "Lemme see..." He moved to stand next to her and rested a hand on her shoulder.

Sure enough, it was a holograph. The wavy images straightened out, revealing the Hinkleys' kitchen, apparently looking in from the dining room. Pam gasped, excited that it was finally working. "That's the house..."

"You must be getting vibes from the suit," Bill surmised, seeing the same images as Pam.

They both heard a crash and watched as a body hit the floor. The person's face was turned, away from them, but the mop of curly blond hair was obvious...

"Ralph!" Pam exclaimed.

Gunnar picked him up in a fireman's carry, Ralph's arms hanging limply. Jesse grabbed the envelope off the table and stuffed it into a jacket pocket. The holograph faded as they left the kitchen.

"Counselor, go after them! Talk me in on the communicator!" Bill urged.

Pam frowned, but nodded. She took three running steps, then leapt into the air.

Bill climbed into the car and started it up, then stepped on the gas. He did not like the look of this scenario one bit.

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Methier sat back in his chair, his feet propped up on his desk. He counted out one-thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills... Ralph's surfing contest winnings as he waited for Ralph to return to consciousness.

Ralph was sprawled out on a beat-up couch across the room, having been unceremoniously dropped there by Jesse and Gunnar.

Ralph groaned rather loudly, returning to consciousness. His head was throbbing, which matched the way the rest of his body felt. He blinked his eyes open and stared up at the half-tiled ceiling. He had a strange, sinking feeling in his stomach...

"Welcome back," Methier greeted, smirking.

Inwardly, Ralph groaned. He made an attempt to lift his head and glare at Methier, but immediately regretted it as the throbbing seemed to double.

"You've caused me a lot of trouble, you know that?" Methier said. He put the money back in the envelope and stood. He reached into a desk drawer and pocketed a folded switchblade, which Ralph didn't see. Methier walked around the desk, moving closer to Ralph. He loved being able to gloat and cause a little added fear, before offing his enemies.

Ralph shifted his gaze the best he could to look up at Methier, the feeling in his stomach growing stronger. He cleared his throat, or at least tried to... and used the one sentence he hated to hear or read from the sheer predictability of it: "You won't get away with this."

Methier smirked, hearing Ralph's almost non-existent voice. "How do you figure that?" He stuffed a hand into a pocket and pulled out the switchblade, then opened it.

Ralph's eyes widened and he gasped the best he could.

Suddenly, a frantic female scream could be heard... and Ralph instinctively put his arms over his face and head. A blur of red crashed through an outer wall, crashing right into Methier, causing the two to tumble and rolling to a stop, Methier clunking his head against the wall.

Pam shook her head, clearing the few cobwebs from the crash landing, and stood up. She went over to Ralph, who was just uncovering his head.

"My hero," he said, hoarsely, with a grin.

Pam returned the grin. "Fair is fair."

Bill stepped in through the rubble that was once the wall. "Good goin', Counselor! You really brought down the house, here! How's the kid?"

Ralph rolled his eyes.

"I think he's conscious, Bill," Pam replied, grinning.

Bill continued farther into the room. "And I see our perp is out cold. Very good, Counselor." He could just barely hear Ralph say something about gold stars. "Funny, kid, real funny. You sound like you're gargling with sand paper, there, Ralph."

Pam shook her head, then helped Ralph sit up. "Thanks, Bill," he replied in a whisper.

Bill cuffed Methier, then hefted the man up into a fireman's carry. "I'll take care of taking out this garbage." He turned to Pam. "Counselor, Ralph's your problem." He walked by them, headed back out to his car, his voice fading as he went, "I already got the other two outside as I was coming in. Those two didn't put up much of a fight."

"Are you ready for a flight, Ralph?" Pam asked.

"Think I can handle it," Ralph replied, again in the whisper.

Again, Pam picked him up, one arm under his shoulders, the other under his knees. He wrapped his left arm around her neck. Pam backed up, then took three running steps and took to the sky. She gave a slight yell, adjusting her flight to accomodate the addition of carrying Ralph, who made a face.

"Sorry, hon," Pam apologized and Ralph nodded his acceptance.

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Epilogue

Two weeks had passed since the suit had been transferred to Pam. All three were once again out in the desert, trying out various suit scenarios.

Bill loudly coached Pam, or thought he was coaching, usually only to have Ralph call out the opposite to Pam.

After everything that had happened, Ralph had ended up on crutches for several days for his knee. He'd been free of them for two days and currently chose to lean against the Diplomat. Only a slight scar remained at his temple where he'd been grazed by the bullet. And best of all, his cold was finally gone.

Ralph had to admit that he was finally feeling better... and just a little jealous that Pam still had the suit.

Pam came in for a landing and when she tried to bring her legs under her, she misjudged and landed on her rear, skidding until she stopped, laying on her back.

Bill made an aggravated gesture, throwing his arms out to his sides. "Counselor!"

Ralph made his way over to Pam, only a slight limp remaining. He held a hand out to help her up. She took the offered hand in both of hers, then Ralph put his other hand on hers. He used his good leg to dig into the sand and lift her up. Once both were standing, the suit began to glow. They're hands remained clasped.

"Uh, Ralph?" Pam began. "This is what the suit did just before it tranferred to me!"

"Maybe it's coming back to me..." As soon as Ralph said it, the suit flashed a bright red, causing them to close their eyes, turning their heads away, while Bill shielded his. When they looked, Ralph once again wore the suit, his own clothes on the ground.

Pam looked down at herself and grinned, finding the clothes she had been wearing when she got the suit.

Bill walked up to them as Ralph picked up his clothes off the ground. "We're dealing with some real funny little green guys, here. When Ralph loses the suit, we gotta look at him in just his little shorts. The Counselor loses the suit and she's left in normal clothes."

Ralph gave Pam a wink, seeing her frown. "As long as the suit doesn't decide to give you a turn, Bill. I don't know if I could handle seeing you in just shorts."

"Funny, kid, real funny," Bill commented as Ralph and Pam laughed.

The End