Things got really got quiet around here, huh? I understand why, but it is kind of sad to see the fandom die a bit and for a lot of big authors and stories to just up and vanish. Sometimes I wish Illumination invested in keeping some of their (non-Minions) franchises alive the way Dreamworks and Disney/Pixar do after movie releases. At the very least, I'm still invested in the Moonfall saga, so I won't be abandoning this story any time soon.

Chapter 21 – The Theater

"I'm back, old girl. You miss me?"

Outside of the New Moon Theater, Buster peered up at the classical but classy marquee and felt a pang of sadness under every beat of his heart. It simply read "Closed." Not closed for rehearsals, not closed for renovations. Just closed. It felt abrupt and finite, like the theater's days were truly numbered. His theater never factored into his "plan" for Redshore, and it showed.

Buster used his keys to unlock the door and was the first soul to enter the New Moon Theater in months. As he stood in the lobby, he was greeted by white marble floors with columns to match, velvet carpeting, the Alice in Wonderland standee, and mostly silence beyond the traffic on Echo Drive drifting through the door.

Approaching the standee, Buster touched it affectionately, smiling at Meena, Rosita, Gunter and Johnny frozen in their costumes, putting on a show the way only they knew how. When he drew his hand back, he found a thin layer of dust on the tips of his fingers and frowned.

"That's no good," the koala said, but seeing part of his troupe gave him an idea. He whipped out his phone and made a video call to Rosita. After a moment, her face appeared on the other end.

"Mr. Moon?"

"Rosita! Is everyone else there?"

"Just about. Do want me to get them?"

"That would be swell."

Rosita called out to the rest of the house, and soon their faces were all bunched together, barely fitting within the frame of view.

"Hey, everybody!" Buster said. "Look where I am!" He turned his phone's camera and swiveled around the center of the lobby, showing off the theater. There was a warm chorus of reactions.

"Home sweet home!" Gunter sang.

Porsha suddenly closed in on the phone and nearly yanked it out of Rosita's grip. "Oh my gosh, is that your theater? You have to give a tour right now!"

"You know what, Porsha? I have an even better idea. How about I give you an in-person tour sometime soon?"

"Really? Yay!" Porsha bounced and clapped.

"How are you doing, Mr. Moon?" Johnny asked. "You know... ever since Crystal got released."

"Don't worry about me, Johnny."

"I could always call my dad and get him—"

"I'm fine," Buster stressed. "How about you? Rosita filled me in on what happened at Crystal's theater... it sounds like she gave you a piece of her mind, so we don't necessarily need to have a talk, but that was a bit out of character for you, wasn't it?"

"Yeah..." the gorilla murmured, rubbing the back of his head. "That was a mistake. I'll be more responsible next time."

"Good, good!" Buster said. Johnny learning from his mistakes was a sign of maturity. It was strange and deceptive for him to sneak off to do something like that, even at Nooshy's behest, and Buster hoped it wasn't his own penchant for lying and deceiving people that gave Johnny the belief that it was okay. Sometimes he forgot he was a mentor figure for his troupe, and that his more unsavory traits could rub off on them. Johnny's father used to be an actual criminal, and it bothered Buster to think that between the two of them, the little showman might be having a worse influence.

"Moon, when are you coming back?" Ash asked, snapping Buster out of his thoughts.

"Soon. Very soon! The theater is my last stop. I'll be back in Redshore by tomorrow, and I'll have figured out how to finally put an end to this Crystal situation."

"I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for."

"I do too," Buster whispered. "I'm going to wrap up my business here. The sooner I'm done, the sooner and I can be back there with you all. I'll see you guys soon, I promise. Okay?"

"Bye, Mr. Moon!" They all called to him.

Buster could feel himself choking up. "Bye, you guys." The image of their faces lingered in his mind long after the call ended. He held on to that radiance they instilled in him; it kept him steady in the storm of melancholy raging inside. That was just what he needed as he steeled himself and walked into the auditorium.

Hit with a wave of nostalgia, Buster took in a deep breath as his eyes absorbed the sight of the theater's seating and stage. He couldn't put the smell into words, but he'd pack it in a bottle and take it with him if he could. There was a quick thought of maybe theater-scented candles, maybe something he could pitch to Eddie. An entrepreneurial endeavor they could go in on together like Eddie always wanted. "A candle for when you can't take the theater with you." But he could already hear his bestie protesting.

"You're the only one that would buy that!"

Probably true, but it'd be so worth it.

There was no real reason to idle here any longer. Buster made his way backstage and to his office. Every poster, picture, and souvenir decorating the room elicited flashes of memories with their own waves of emotion. There was one in particular Buster wanted to revisit. Carefully, he picked up the framed picture of the Moon Theater's grand opening and brought it over to his desk. Sitting down, Buster rested his head on the cool wooden surface, letting his eyes burrow into the image of a dreamer and his proud papa.

What would Bruce Moon do or say in this situation? Where was his father's voice? Was it pathetic that someone well into their adulthood still sought out the guidance of their parent?

Buster continued staring into the picture, hoping the answers would scrawl themselves over the frame's glass. Some would say that day the theater opened was the day Buster's destiny truly began to flourish. But there was always a little more to the story than that, wasn't there? He couldn't help but reminisce...

It was a toasty afternoon when Bruce Moon waited under the shade of the Prairie Theater's marquee. Just as the aging koala checked his watch, the sound of racing footfalls reached his large, fluffy ears, and his son nearly collapsed in front of him.

"Sorry I'm late!" Buster blurted. "Lost track of time. Eddie was helping me with the final draft of War of Attrition. I think this one's spectacular! When I show it to Ms. Peabody down at the Oasis Theater, I'm sure she'll let me run it there. Aiden's already gotten one of his shows to run there, and he's already talking about doing another. I'm way behind."

"Catch your breath, son," Bruce said, watching the younger koala pant for air. "And don't worry about it. Mr. Gordy can't start the meeting without me."

Buster eyed his father suspiciously. "Wait, Mr. Gordy, the owner of the theater? Why did you want me in on this meeting?"

"Two heads are better than one."

"For what?"

"I guess we'll see, eh?"

That was awfully cagey, and something coy played at his father's lips. Bruce opened the door and ushered his son inside.

The theater was deserted, closed (for some time, Buster noted) but left open for the Moons. Dense feelings weighed Buster down, stopping him in the lobby. He had to get something off his chest, something that kept manifesting as demoralizing whispers and nightmares. And he had to do it before they saw Mr. Gordy.

"What do you tell people... when you talk about me?"

Bruce turned around in complete bewilderment. "What?"

"I know I'm a disappointment."

"Oh, Buster. Why do you say these things?"

Buster wrung his hands, his gaze squarely at the floor. He couldn't look his father in the eyes, but if he had, he'd have seen the utter heartbreak in them.

"Look, I know parents aren't supposed to say it... but some kids don't turn out so great. I've been chasing this dream for years, decades even, with nothing to show for it. I'm still trying to get my foot in the circuit, get my name in the conversation, and for what? That's without mentioning all my relationships ending in the gutter... I'm a disaster, dad."

Buster kept his eyes down, saw his father's shadow approaching, felt his presence looming over him. Then a firm and steady hand found his chin and gently lifted his head until he could no longer hide from his father's gaze. Even through the older koala's glasses, Buster could clearly see the tempered heat, with just a glimmer of worry.

"Do you see disappointment in my eyes?"

"N-no..."

"Do you think I'd raise a disaster?"

Buster shook his head. "No, sir."

"Don't beat yourself up. There's enough people in the world willing to do that for you." Bruce threw an arm around his son and hurried him along to the auditorium. "We'll continue this discussion later."

Buster couldn't help but take in the auditorium with awe. He'd been here before of course, having his love of theater ignited by Nana Noodleman's iconic performance in Epiphany when he was only six years old. It was a good thing his father kept moving him along, or else he'd marvel at the architecture all day. Eventually they reached Mr. Gordy's personal office at the back of the theater, and as they entered, Buster was immediately entranced by decades of theater history chronicled through posters and accolades strewn about before he noticed the two people inside.

"Ah, it's Moon and son!" Mr. Gordy said, a bespectacled cat with graying fur, much the same height as the two koalas. Next to him, a russet-furred llama towered above them all.

Bruce removed his flat cap and bowed graciously, with Buster hurriedly mimicking the motion.

"Howdy," Bruce greeted. "Buster, you remember Mr. Gordy. And this here is Judith from SFJ Bank."

"Uh, Hello!" Buster said, trying to hide the intimidation he felt in the llama's presence.

"Everything's all set, Mr. Moon," Judith said, handing a clipboard and pen over to Bruce. "All we need to finish the transaction is your signature."

Buster glanced at the contract on the clipboard before doing a doubletake.

"Dad...that's a mortgage agreement."

"Uh huh," Bruce said nonchalantly, skimming the papers.

"For the theater."

"Yup."

"Holy moly! You're buying the theater!?"

Suddenly, his father shoved the clipboard into his hands. "No, you are."

Buster stared at the contract as if experiencing written language for the first time. He tried to speak, but nothing beyond a few truncated syllables left his mouth. Mr. Gordy and Judith traded glances before leaving the office to give the Moons privacy.

"But... how... how can you afford this?" Buster finally mustered.

His father wore a broad grin, placing his hands on his hips. "That day I brought you here to see Epiphany... you had that look in your eye, the look some people go their entire lives never experiencing. The look of a kid that knew exactly what he wanted out of life. That's when I knew I had to make this happen."

"But that was... thirty years ago! You've been saving up all this time...?" Buster ran a shaky hand through his headfur, feeling his eyes welling up. "What about retirement? And that camper you wanted?"

"This is what I want, Buster."

"I-I don't deserve this..."

"What one deserves is a subjective belief that changes based on the perspective of who you ask. It's not about what I think you deserve, it's about what I want you to have in life, and that's never changing." Bruce held on to his son, feeling the koala tremble against him with intense emotion. "I want you to be safe, I want you to be happy, and I want you to be fulfilled. You don't have to worry about getting your foot in the circuit anymore because you own a theater. And the one constant in everyone's conversations throughout Calatonia will be the name of this place.

"Go on, son. Sign it. It's yours."

And Buster did sign his name while his vision was threatening to become a blurry mess. Just as he finished his signature, the levees broke, and his face gave way to a cascade of blissful tears. His knees gave out, his father's strong but loving embrace being the only thing keeping him steady. Fighting back the tears was futile, and soon Buster was bawling like a baby in his father's arms. He knew he was drenching his dad's flannel shirt in tears, and that Mr. Gordy and Judith could probably hear him outside the office, but none of that mattered.

In an instant, his dreams became reality. If someone told him he'd died and went to heaven, he'd believe them.

"You wanted to know what I tell people about you," Bruce said, his voice a soothing bass. "I tell them that my son is a fighter that chases his dreams no matter how long it takes. I tell them he's up for the challenge no matter how grueling the grind. I tell them that he's earned everything he has coming his way, and he will never, ever let fear stop him from doing the thing he loves. And then I tell them he means the world to me, and then some."

"Thank you, dad," Buster sputtered through sobs. After a few minutes, Buster was able to recompose himself enough to carry on a conversation.

"Hey buddy. Cooking up some plans for this place?" Bruce asked, ruffling his son's headfur. It was childish, but Buster never got tired of it.

"A few," Buster admitted, a knowing twinkle in his eye. "First, I think I know exactly what to name this theater..."

Buster wiped away a rogue tear. He could always count on his old man to pick him up when he was at his lowest. Just when he was ready to call it quits, to accept that he was a failure, a loser, all washed up, his dad swooped in and gave him back his dignity. And...

That was it.

A bitter laugh escaped Buster's maw. His father's voice never left him; he'd just stopped listening. The truth was that his father gave him all the tools he needed to succeed all along.

Buster placed the picture of Moon Theater's grand opening back on the wall next to a similar picture for the New Moon Theater and wondered how long he'd been in this office reminiscing of days gone by. Now that he had an idea of what to do about Crystal, it was time to get back to Redshore.

But it couldn't hurt to stick around here just a little longer, he thought. He was really missing his theater, and he wanted to indulge in it a little more.

Buster left his office and made his way backstage. As he stepped out into the center of the stage, he was surrounded by ghostly visages of his theater family performing in his memories. Johnny finessing the keys of the piano, Ash wailing on her guitar, Rosita and Gunter busting out synchronized moves, Meena's voice bringing down the house, even Mike crooning over a too-big microphone. He could even hear the distant cheers of the audience.

His dad was right. This was exactly the life Buster wanted, and he couldn't imagine it any other way. Buster was in the midst of a content sigh when a voice from the seats startled him.

"Oh, good. I was hoping we weren't sitting here all this time for nothin'."

Whipping around, Buster spotted two very real, very solid figures. Sitting in the front row of his theater were Jimmy Crystal and Cleo Keller.

A/N

I just realized this is the first time Jimmy and Buster have been in the same room since the story began. Jimmy has a lot to get off his chest, but so does Buster.

I didn't originally plan for that theater flashback, but I was headcannoning the moment Buster actually got possession of the theater and thought to myself, "there's no way I can't write that out."