The dusk sun was orange in a wash of indigo inks. The harsh California terrain looked more sinister with the growing shadows.
Ralph Hinkley stared out of the window of Bill Maxwell's car. "So where are we off to this time?"
"Don't sound so excited, kid. What, you and the Counsellor have a special weekend planned? Or are you taking the delinquents out for some educational apple picking?" Bill's sunglasses hid his look of distaste.
"Well, no, but..."
"Good," Bill said, quashing all room for argument. "It's just you and me and them magic jammies then. We got some big stuff brewing out here tonight."
Ralph sighed, pulling out his satchel. He opened it, removing the suit. "There is always something big brewing with you, Bill."
"No, no, kid. I've got a big bad feeling about this one."
Untying his second shoe, Ralph said, "So what is it? What are we in for?" He pulled off the shoe and tossed it behind him.
"Hey, watch that!" There was a pause, as Bill drove, his hands held fast on the wheel. "I don't exactly know. You see, I'm just following..."
"You don't know?!" Ralph whipped his belt off, slapping it beside Bill's leg.
"Geez Louise, Ralph, you could really hurt a guy with that..."
"You don't know." Ralph shook his head, pulling his shirt out from where it was tucked in his pants.
"Yeah, I don't know, kid. Like I was trying to say, I'm just following..."
There was a split second of shock that seemed to stop the world before the cacophony of chaos engulfed them.
Ralph's last thought before the world went black was that the headlights of the other car were blinding.
"He's bleeding pretty bad, boss."
"That is none of your concern, Hayden. Just ensure that they survive the transport. An hour or two is all I need."
"What if they don't wake up?"
"I did not contract you to ask questions! Load them up and be silent."
He was first aware of the wet heat of something pressed tightly against his back. The smell struck him next, a metallic tang that was nearly alive mixed with stale dead air.
As Ralph regained consciousness, pain seemed to overwhelm his senses. A muffled moan met his ears, and he knew that the sound was his own. His head felt as though it were split in two, with a sticky wetness clinging to his hair.
To draw his focus away from the pain, he did a physical assessment, noting that his scalp felt as though there were several pulling cuts in it and a band across his chest and abdomen felt bruised. His hands and feet were bound with what felt to be twine.
He was in the car! Was. Someone had hit them. Head on.
He opened his eyes a sliver. It was dark, nearly pitch. He couldn't make out a thing.
The weight at his back shifted. A voice soft, but burred hit his ears, "Kid?"
Ralph tried to speak, "Bill..." He felt unease, as though things were moving. With his headache and the motion, he felt vertiginous.
"Kid, you alive?"
Ralph swallowed back bile. He grunted a reply.
"I think we're in the trunk. Been movin' for a while."
Shock intensified the sick feeling that held Ralph. He clenched his eyes shut. The moan that followed was weaker.
"Now don't you do something stupid over there, Ralph. You just hang on, uncle Billy Boy will take care of the baddies once we come to a complete stop."
There was a sudden jolt, tossing both cramped passengers against the close quarters.
Bill struggled with a wracking deep cough for a moment, his back hitting against Ralph's. Bill managed a moan before he spoke with his gravelly voice dark, "You all right?"
Ralph mumbled "car sick..." clenching his knees up and tightening his muscles.
"Oh no, kid, not in here. I mean we aren't exactly riding in style here, we don't need your own special treatment on the upholstery."
The moving feeling seemed to slow and drift to a stop.
"Look, kid," Bill whispered, "I think we should just play dead. You ain't dressed for the occasion and I've got my own problems here."
"Yeah..."
There was a muffled clicking noise and a sudden flood of artificial light from far above.
"Boss, they look dead."
A serious voice spoke. "They aren't dead, Hayden. Remove them and tie the leads to their hands."
A rough hand ripped into Ralph's scalp, pulling him up. The pain made him cry out, clenching his eyes closed. The hand then found his collar, dragged Ralph from the cramped trunk and tossed him carelessly to the ground.
Ralph found himself curled up on his side, vomiting helplessly.
Bill's body hit the ground with a dulled thud, the sand muffling the sound.
"Boss, the blonde guy is throwing up."
"How cute. His weakness disgusts me."
"Uh, his puke disgusts me, boss."
"Attend to good Mr. Maxwell then."
Once Ralph was empty, he felt the same calloused hands working rope around his tied wrists. Ralph opened his eyes and blinked away tears, finally focusing on the soft light of a street lamp above reflecting off of hubcaps of the large car.
"Hayden, remove the binding from their ankles, and watch Mr. Maxwell, he used to be a footballer."
Bill regained his voice, "I wouldn't try anything, junior."
The sound of boot connecting with Bill's hollow chest echoed off of the car.
"Don't kill him, cretin."
"Stop..." Ralph rose to a sitting position, his hands behind himself. "Why are you..."
Slate eyes bore into Ralph's own. The man who belonged to them was in his mid-thirties, slightly older than Ralph, with darker blonde hair, a handsome face, and a chiselled brow. He wore a sleek black dress suit. His gaze simply radiated a lack of sympathy.
"Why am I," he began, over the sound of Bill coughing. He rose to his full height, at just under six feet, turning away from Ralph. "Hayden, please ensure Mr. Hinkley can walk to our destination."
"Yeah, boss." The man that attended to Ralph looked grizzled, his skin darker than the others, his hands chapped and calloused. He looked to be of Hispanic origin, his hair and eyes brown, and a plethora of scars dappled his face.
Ralph's legs were freed and though pain washed over him in waves, he felt as though he could walk.
The darker man handed the two leads to the man in the suit. The well dressed man tugged on one and the pull dragged Ralph up to stand. After three audible yanks on the other cord, Bill rose.
Ralph looked over his partner. Bill looked half dead. Blood looked like oil, slick on his back. His sunglasses were gone, and his face was a mask of pain, blood at the corner of his mouth. There was the glimmer of crimson glass sticking out of his left leg, and he favoured his right side. His arms were tied back and his breathing was short gasps.
"Bill..." Ralph looked on at his friend, tears welling in the corner of his eyes.
"Don't worry about me, kid."
The man in the suit scoffed. "How sentimental." He handed the leads over to the dark man and slipped away for a moment.
Bill coughed and blood splattered from his mouth.
"Bill?" Ralph moved toward his friend, but was stopped by a large deliberate hand, knocking him staggering back.
"Of all the people here to worry about, Mr. Hinkley," the slate eyed man said, walked back to the others, Ralph's satchel under his arm, "You should be concerned with your own well being."
"My suit."
"Not anymore. Hayden, you know where to lead them."
The dark man nodded and withdrew a gun from his pocket. He depressed it into Bill's back. "Walk or the Fed gets lead." He chuckled to himself, "that rhymed, boss."
"You are so clever. March."
Ralph walked on. The street light faded as they went further into what seemed to be the desert. He stepped on soft sand and small rocks, in his socked feet.
"So where are we going?" Bill asked, his voice breaking, his breaths tiny gasps.
Silence was his answer, and the only sound that could be heard was their breathing and footsteps.
Thorns jabbed into the arch of Ralph's left foot, causing him to cry out and drop to his knees. The lead around his wrist was tugged with so much force that he lost his balance and slammed down hard on his shoulder.
"Get up." The voice of the man in the suit was like a razor dripping with acid.
"My foot," Ralph moaned, through clenched teeth. "I stepped on something sharp."
A hand was at Ralph's collar, wrenching him up to stand.
"It isn't much further, Mr. Hinkley." The glimmer of slate eyes stared through the darkness at Ralph.
Ralph continued on, favouring his uninjured foot. Several steps drove the barbs deeper, causing him to hiss in pain.
"I can't see, boss."
"That will no longer be a problem, Hayden." There was the glint of dark metal, a click, and a flash in the darkness. The darker man's lifeless body collapsed.
Ralph was no longer held fast by the twine, so he slumped down, getting his weight off of his injured foot. He worked to move his still bound hands back around to his front.
The sound of Bill dropping to his knees broke the sudden silence.
There was a small tug as the man in the suit took up Ralph's lead. "I suppose," he said, in the sightless dark, "I owe you both an explanation."
Bill coughed, "that ain't all you owe us."
"I have been following you, Mr. Hinkley. Since the first time you used your communicators. I had patched into your frequency and once I heard what you were saying I knew the truth."
Ralph looked up into the darkness at the sound of the voice. "Truth?"
"Don't ya' get it, Ralph? It's obvious. This guy is into S and M something fierce."
The crack of the blow dealt to Bill rang through the air. It was followed by the sound of a fit of pained coughing and Bill's head coming to rest on the sand.
"I am not to suffer this foolishness."
A dim light illuminated from the slate eyed man's pocket. In his hands there was something familiar, though it took Ralph's afflicted mind a few moments to place it.
" The instructions!"
The light from the small book shone upon the scowling smirk of the well dressed man. "That is right."
"...ain't no good without the suit," Bill wheezed.
"That I have as well."
Ralph shook his head. "The suit only works on me."
There was the fluctuating sound of pacing. The slate eyes man said, "That is true, Mr. Hinkley. But I've had the best translators in the world to crack the alien codes, and intend to prove to the 'little green guys' as you so ineffectually call them that they made a mistake."
Bill coughed out a laugh.
There was the shuffle of fabric, but little warning before the shot. White enveloped Bill for a split second, a mix of horror and pain cut into his face.
"Bill!" Ralph leapt to his friend's aid in the blackness.
"The first mistake being you, Mr. Maxwell, as I find you simply intolerable."
Ralph had found Bill, his warmth flowing through an open wound in his chest. With arms still bound at his front, he sat on his knees and gently pulled his partner into his lap. Tears slipped down his cheeks.
Just barely lit by the faint light of the manual, Ralph could see Bill's smile, through the pain on his face. His breaths were stuttered panting. "...kid..." His voice sounded as though it were lost in the wind.
"Bill...," Ralph said, sobs shaking him, looking down on his friend.
"... take care of the... Counsellor... you were the... best..."
The emotion getting the best of him, he hugged the dying man to his chest. Ralph laid his chin against Bill's forehead and felt as the last breath slipped from the man's lips. Cradling Bill Maxwell's lifeless form, Ralph Hinkley sobbed.
Through the sound of his own crying, Ralph heard that of a radio being clicked on. He held his lost friend fast, allowing his tears to fall on the still face below him.
"Everything is ready to go." There were emergent footsteps and a harsh hand that grabbed Ralph's bound arms and pulled them upwards, away from Bill's lifeless body. Ralph was thrown forward, from which he flipped over, landing on his back. "Nearly everything." The cold muzzle of a gun was thrust against Ralph's middle. The sudden flash of pain was drown by shock.
"I am sorry, Mr. Hinkley," the grey eyed man said, his tone remorseless. "I needed bait."
Ralph clenched his haemorrhaging middle with his bound hands, his eyes squinted in pain. He doubled over, still sobbing.
"I know the truth of your suit. I know the inner workings, the true power that it holds. As you struggled to simply fly, I learned to shift the tectonic plates of the earth. Your pathetic trial and error methods have denied you the potential for greatness."
Ralph squirmed in misery, trying to inch is way to Bill. Sticky wetness drenched his clothes and cooled in the chill of the night air.
"Your 'little green guys' chose the wrong successor for the suit, Mr. Hinkley. They chose a man blinded by his love. Selfish, in that he chose only to effect his immediate areas. Those idiotic children. Your wife. And this obsession with Bill Maxwell."
Ralph tasted blood in the back of his throat and struggled to swallow. He had wriggled his way back next to Bill, whose still body was angled on his side, getting colder by the moment. Ralph buried his face into Bill's jacket, keeping his fast grip on his mid-section, sobbing from the pain.
"This world doesn't need you, Mr. Hinkley. It doesn't need your archaic morals. It needs a true hero. Someone to rule without question. For someone to stop the petty bickering between nations, to stop bloody civil wars, and to become united under one with power such as that which I will not be denied.
"I will stand proud and tall and none shall oppose me. I will usher in a glorious new race of man."
Pushing down the throbbing pain and the rampant emotions, Ralph spoke, "the suit isn't yours."
"It will be," the well dressed man said, biting off his words. "You are the bait."
"What..." Ralph's question was cut short from a wave of pain. Once he could suck in a breath, he continued, "what if they don't come?"
"They'll come."
Focusing on the conversation at hand, Ralph maneuvered himself up, so that he rested his chin beside Bill's cold ear. "You k, killed Bill. And I," he sucked in a pained breath, "I was saved by them three months ago."
"What?"
"I was shot, in a stake-out. Almost... Died." Ralph licked his cracked lips, his mouth was dry. "They saved me, but you killed... Killed Bill." Speaking came easier, but the flow was interrupted by waves of pain and an unnatural slow setting in. "What have they to... save?"
"No. They will be here."
Ralph's eyelids became more leaden by the minute. The pain was fading to a sliding, sticky, wet ache. The hair beneath his chin still smelled like Bill, like dog treats and gun oil. An absent smile crossed his face.
Long minutes passed.
The slate eyed man began to pace. "Where the hell are they?"
Ralph had slipped too far down for a moment. He shook his head to regain sense. "Dunno."
"This is intolerable!" He continued to pace, but halted suddenly. "Of course!"
There were faint sounds of rustling and the opening of the attaché case.
"What are you doing?" Ralph asked, sounding groggy.
"Putting on my suit."
A buzzing of the radio startled the two. The dial whirred into a new adjustment, picking up a single word.
WE. It spun again, hitting successive stations, making a statement.
HAVE.
EXPECTED.
YOU.
The words were followed by the familiar sound of the video game character, Pac-Man, being defeated, and the radio unit going dead.
Barely visible in the darkness, the finely dressed man had removed his clothes and donned the red suit, which appeared ill-fitting.
Lights in the sky drew the attention of the grey eyed man and he gave a victory yell to the heavens.
As his captor was preoccupied, Ralph slunk through the sand to the pile of clothes, shuffling through them in an attempt to find the gun.
The blinding light of the ship illuminated the desert and, for a moment, the hum of the massive machine drowned out any noise.
The man in the suit turned to Ralph, watching as he fumbled for the weapon. He took several pressed strides to the bleeding man before him. He reached down, his grasp aimed at the position of the pistol.
But his hand was intercepted by another that was augmented with an unnatural strength.
"I'll take that, thank you." Bill Maxwell held the wide-eyed man's hand and deftly snatched up the gun, broken strips of twine hanging from his wrists.
Ralph's glazed eyes stared up at the man who he knew was dead moments ago.
"It's alright, kid. It seems the little green guys gave me an Incredible Hulk life insurance policy." With speed beyond that of mortal man, Bill took aim and fired, connecting with the grey eyed man's forehead and the man in the wrong suit fell backward, his lifeless slate eyes stared upward at the ship.
"Bill..."
Maxwell knelt beside his partner, running a cold hand past the wound that flowed with waning life. Though his eyes were lifeless, tears flowed down his ashen cheeks. "This ain't how I wanted it to end."
Ralph's bound hands weakly reached for Maxwell.
Bill slid his arms under Ralph's crumpled form and lifted him up. "Come on, kid. It's our time."
Ralph let unconsciousness blanket him as Bill stepped toward the ship.
Doors slid open before him. It took a moment for him to regain his bearings. Ralph held his side tightly, but found there was no need. He was whole, healed, and clean, standing in the doorway of the ship, as he had been once before.
"Ha HA!" he exclaimed with incredulous energy. He was alive. They had done it again.
He stepped out of the bright doorway and into the main chamber of the ship. Before him were the two familiar looking 'green guys,' the one in white with a symbol on his suit identical to Ralph's own, and the tiny floating being. The small one held Ralph's suit aloft.
Ralph dashed over to the being, excitedly taking what he knew was his. "May I?"
The small creature nodded, and without modesty, Ralph changed into his suit with desperate speed. He simply wanted to know that it was truly his again. As he put on each garment, he felt the familiar power fill him. Through it all, he was still the chosen one.
He was fully dressed, positioning his boot over his previously injured foot, when a voice drew his attention. "What a sight for sore eyes."
"Bill!' The elder was before Ralph, but was hidden in shadows. Ralph broke into a run towards his friend, only to have Bill halt him in his track by raising his hand.
"Stop, kid. Don't come any closer. My ticker still ain't tickin'."
Ralph did not heed Bill's warning, finishing his stride, and wrapping his arms around his partner. The man lacked warmth, and was eerily cold to the touch. His previous injuries still coloured his body in black dried blood patches. His fatal wound no longer bled, but was dark with gore. The man was still dead.
Ralph clung to his friend and found himself sobbing again. He felt no heartbeat within the chest that he held fast.
"Aah, come on, Ralph. I'll be okay." Bill put his cold hand on top of Ralph's head and his other around his partner. "Well, not okay, okay. I mean, I'm still dead, but the little green guys offered me a nice retirement package. My other partner from the bureau is up here. We'll get to fish and catch up on doin' a whole lot of nothin'."
Ralph looked up at Bill, tears fresh on his cheeks, and asked, "You're leaving me?"
Bill moved his head to the side, with a look as though he were taken aback. "I'm dead, kid. How could I explain that one to Carlisle?"
Ralph's anguished wail was muffled by Bill's dirty shirt. He bawled in earnest then, his fist beating the lifeless chest of his friend. "please..." he choked out, between sobs, "please, don't leave me..."
Bill's dead hand rubbed Ralph's back. "That's not what I want to do kid, but I don't have much of a choice here. You've still got the Counsellor... And believe or not, I don't want to retire. If I had my way, it'd be you and me, catchin' perps and keepin' up my 98 kill rate, but it's just..." Bill sighed without breath. "I'm dead."
"I, I can't do this alone, Bill."
They stood there for long moments, the only sound in the chamber was that of Ralph's sobbing. Bill rested his forehead on the top of Ralph's head.
"All of this blubberin', just for me..." Bill said, an incredulous tone to his dead voice. "Hard to believe that someone cares this much about old Bill Maxwell." His eyes had gone white without life, but as before, tears slipped down his cheeks, cutting through the dust. He reached out and touched Ralph's face and caught a falling tear.
Ralph looked up at Bill and the wet tracks down his face. Still sniffling, his chest hitching, he ran his finger down the trail. "You're my best friend, Bill."
"Ditto, kid."
They embraced for a few more long moments. The aliens looked on at the man in a red suit and the walking dead.
Bill pulled back, unravelling his arms from around Ralph. "Come on, kid... It's time to..."
"Your heart!"
"What?"
"Your heart is beating!" Ralph laid his hand on Bill's chest, and surely enough, he could feel the weak thrumming of a heartbeat within. "Ha!" He leant his head to the elder's chest and listened.
Bill laughed, with a mirthful smile following. "That's great! I guess the little green guys just realised that I changed my mind about retiring. I..." His smile turned to a pained grimace and he slumped to his knees, Ralph's arms guiding him down.
"What is it?" Ralph's tears had subsided and were replaced with a frantic shock.
Bill slipped to the floor, his waning energy pulling him into a foetal position.
And in the next second he was gone in a flash of light.
Once Ralph's mind was free of the blindness, he stood and rushed to the aliens. "Where did you take him?"
The small one pointed to a blackened rectangle that suddenly grew illuminated within. The form of a man was outlined in thousands of pulsing red lights. The outline appeared as though it were writhing.
"What are you doing?"
A gentle foreign voice entered his mind. "He is in stasis, as we repair his injured flesh. Allow his body time to accept the recovery."
"How can I understand you?"
"You wear the suit."
Ralph shook his head, still in shock over the whole manner. "I'm sorry," he said, "That was a stupid question."
"The events of the past few hours have been chaotic for you, Mr. Hinkley. Please sit." The small alien flew ahead and moved his tiny hand, pulling out what looked to be a seat for Ralph.
Ralph sat at what appeared to be a long table with many chairs, looking on at the two beings before him. He ran his hand through his hair, shaking his head. There were so many questions that he had, such as how Bill had come back to life and the identity of the man was that had very effectively attempted to neutralize the two.
"Your partner is alive," the alien said, without prompting, "because of the suit, Mr. Hinkley." The taller alien took a seat beside Ralph. "The power of the suit can resurrect the walking dead, but only if the bond allows it."
"Bond? I don't understand."
"There is a deep bond between your partner and yourself. I believe it is what your people call love. This bond allowed Mr. Maxwell to draw in the power of the suit and renew his lost life force."
Ralph nodded absently. He did love Bill, in a simply platonic manner, but it was love all the same. "Will he be alright?"
"He will recover fully."
Ralph suddenly wondered if Bill would remember being dead.
"Yes."
Ralph laughed quietly to himself. "It's strange having you inside my head."
"We can provide you a translator."
Ralph waved his hand and shook his head. "That's not necessary. Just unusual, that's all." He puffed out a sigh. "Who attacked us?"
"He was bent on the domination of your people. He believed that if he acquired the suit, and proved his might, he would inherit it."
"By killing Bill and I."
"Yes."
Ralph looked down at his suit. "He died in it."
"We laundered his leavings from it."
The human's eyes went wide. "Leavings?"
The room was filled with sudden light as the sliding doors behind them opened. A shadow stood in the light and slipped on sunglasses. "Woo! Somethin' about comin' back from the dead makes me ready to kick some keister!"
Ralph got to his feet and with several steps, broke into a fly toward his partner. He collapsed into Bill, knocking them both to the floor of the bright hall. His arms still around his friend, Ralph laughed and Bill quickly joined in. Within moments they were back on their feet and standing the the doorway.
"I, uh..." Bill began, directed toward the aliens. "I just wanted to say thanks. Took care of everything. Even found my glasses... Brought me back."
The small alien floated to Bill's side and dropped a communicator into his open hand. Bill slipped it in, smiling.
"Your resurrection was not our doing. It was that of your friend, Mr. Hinkley."
Bill beamed and turned to Ralph, cuffing him on the back. "Is that so? Well, I guess I owe you a cupcake, kid!" The humans shared a smile.
The elder's face sobered as he refaced the aliens. "I just, uh... I just wanted to say thanks for pairing the two of us up. I mean, without Ralph I wouldn't have a 98 kill ratio..." He cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. "Or a best friend."
Ralph stepped forward. "I want to thank you too but I need to know... Why did you chose me? That guy said that I was selfish in how I used the suit... That I wasn't worthy." Bill placed a warm hand on his friend's shoulder.
The larger alien spoke. "He was driven by ruthless ambition and stringent thinking. You are driven by love. We made no mistake."
Ralph suddenly remembered, "But he had the instructions!"
"But not the power."
"Speaking of the instructions," Bill began, rubbing his chin, "do you think we could take a gander? Since, you know, those were the first set that Ralph lost."
Ralph looked critically at his partner. "I think what Agent Maxwell is trying to say..."
"They will be in your attaché case, Mr. Hinkley." He raised his green hand. "Fare well, heroes."
With a blast of light, the humans were elsewhere.
The arid desert terrain began to warm with the early dawn light. Ralph stood in his suit, surveying the land around him. Bill slowly regained his wherewithal and snatched up Ralph's stray briefcase.
"So now what?" Ralph asked, absently.
"Alibi! Aw geez, kid, I need an alibi if I don't want Carlisle to turn me into one of them walkin' zombies again." He stripped off his glasses, slipping them in the pocket of his jacket.
"Not funny, Bill."
The elder looked at the young man in the suit, his eyes pleading. "Alright, alright, alright, can't even take a little joke," Bill mumbled. "So what happened last night? What do ya' think I should tell the boss?"
"The truth," Ralph said, still looking on the horizon.
"What? I can't tell Carlisle and the gang that I was abducted by some nut-job... Unless I tell him that I was abducted by some nut-job! You're a genius kid!" Bill spoke quickly, setting down the case, and gesturing with his hands. "I'll tell 'em that I was taking you home from school..."
"Why?"
"It's my alibi, Ralph. Get with the programme."
Ralph raised his hand, his back turned on his partner. "No, Bill, why did you take me home? And why are my shoes and belt still in your car?"
"Ooh. That's a toughie." Bill scratched his chin. "I was taking you home..."
"What if you tell them that I was going jogging? You were going to drop me off at the park and I would jog back to my car."
Bill's distaste with the suggestion etched his face. "Then I could tell them that we were going to the sushi bar to have a glass of carrot juice."
Ralph crossed his arms and turned to his friend. "Do you have a better idea?"
"No. Fine. Fine then, I'll tell them that my best friend is one of those health nuts. Yuck." Bill clapped his hands together. "Next."
Ralph focused his attention to the skies, thinking. "You dropped me off and someone hit your car."
"Bingo." Bill stopped mid-pace. "Not so Bingo, kid. I don't look like I was in my car when those twerps decided to squeeze it in like an accordion. I need evidence. Find me a piece of glass."
Ralph glanced over the terrain, to no avail. "You know what," he said stepping near his friend, "I'll do you one better and make a piece." Ralph stared down at his hands and began to rub them together at an inhuman speed. A warm red glow enveloped them, which started at the palms and moved outward.
"Good. I just need to make a few little nicks and..."
Ralph stopped cold. "Whoa," he said, his light mood and face dropping. "I'm not going to do this so you can hurt yourself, Bill."
"I'm not... Not gonna... You aren't getting the scope of the situation here, Ralph," Bill said, gesturing emphatically with his hands. "If I don't have a solid story waiting for Carlisle, I'm gonna be outta the field forever. And forever is a long time to be pushin' papers, kid."
Ralph sighed, not believing his team-mate, but curbing his impulse to argue. "Fine. Let me work on this and you figure out the rest of your story." He knelt down, tracing a circle in the sand.
Bill turned away, pacing. "Duly noted." He snapped his fingers several times, scratching the top of his head with his other hand. "Alright. Car crash. Those goons threw me in the trunk. Pulled me out. Marched me out into the desert... Why? Why, Ralph, why did the goober brothers abduct me and drag me all the way out here?"
"Uh, because the guy with the grey eyes was crazy."
"Nutty as a holiday fruitcake." He spun around. "Which makes total sense! He's all schizo and he goes after the diamond in the FBI crown to give him some answers to..."
"To the little green guys he keeps seeing?"
"Eh..." Bill shrugged off Ralph's suggestion. "The rest is too good, kid. I can tell the truth for once, and not earn my ticket to the looney bin."
Ralph laid his red hot hands to the chilled ground. There was a hissing sound and, when Ralph pulled his cooled palms away, there was a dried pool of uneven glass. He smiled and handed the thin sheet to his partner.
Bill smiled back, looking on his friend with disbelief and awe in his eyes. Without warning, Bill took the glass and smashed it over his head. The piece shattered, feathering slivers into the elder's hair and slicing tiny gashes into his scalp.
Ralph grabbed Bill's shoulders, his wide eyes boring into those of his partner. "What did you do that for?"
"Like I said," Bill remarked, plucking a shard of glass from a wound on his lip, "I needed evidence."
"Like a hole in the head."
Once the two understood the true meaning of that statement, they found themselves laughing, cutting the tension.
Within moments, Bill returned to pacing. "Hit by a car, stuffed in the trunk, the one guy offs the other, and asks me the secrets of the universe. A 98 kill ratio is pretty prestigious. I sneak out of the twine and take him out with his own gun."
"Speaking of the twine, we need to retie your hands." Ralph gathered up a length of lead that lay nearby where they were captive.
Bill stopped and held his hands out to have Ralph recreate the bindings. "Good. Sounds good..." Bill grimaced, "Ow, not too tight... Wait a minute, kid."
"What?"
"I busted out of these things, remember?" Bill asked, and Ralph, with a look of understanding on his face, gently broke the binding where Bill's hands met. "Not completely kid, just retie two pieces of rope around my wrists."
As his friend worked, the agent then looked around, deep in thought. "We got another problem."
"Which is?"
"Those guys have been dead for hours. I should have called right after things went down. Is there a phone in the perp's car?"
Ralph, satisfied with the twine loops on Bill's hands, and the break he caused in the middle, stepped over and looked into the opened cabin of the vehicle. He nodded. "That there is."
Bill pointed as he spoke, "That's a problem, I mean, unless we dump the phone, but getting it could leave prints. We could..." Bill trailed off, his eyes caught on something on the ground. He chuckled to himself. "Oh Ralphie boy, your old uncle Billy has the yarn of the century! I have truly outdone myself. Carlisle himself will be awarding the medal of honour and three weeks paid vacation to Acapulco." He slapped his hands together, the sound echoing in the desert. "I just need a little tiny favour. Teeny weeny itty bitty." He held up his finger and thumb to show the small size. He laughed with a nearly mad exuberance.
Ralph's eyes grew skeptical. "What Bill?"
"It's just a little thing, kid. Minute. Nothing huge. But it should make things easy as pie. Smooth."
Ralph grew annoyed by Bill's mischievous tone of voice. "What are you going to do?"
"Simple, Ralphie, follow old Bill. I'm going to call this in when I wake up."
"Wake up?"
"That's right. Old wild Bill took a heavy knock to the noggin', concussive even, and after he shot the baddie, he staggered back to the creep's car, lost his lunch, and passed out. It's explains the passage of time and even the neat little pile of recycled cafeteria food you left."
"But Bill," Ralph said, the look on his face showed that he had worked out the pieces. "I think I had the concussion, not you. No concussion. No bump. No evidence."
"That's where you come in."
Ralph stepped back and crossed his arms, as he realised what Bill was asking him to do. "Not a chance, Bill. I'm wearing the suit. I could kill you."
"Wouldn't be the first time today, kid."
Anger sparked in Ralph's eyes. "Stop it!" He curtly turned away from his friend.
"Kid?"
Bill's query was met with silence. "Ralph?" He stepped near the man in the suit. "Come on, kid. I was kidding." He laid a warm hand on the shoulder of his partner.
Ralph physically flinched under Bill's grasp, but kept his gaze away. "I wasn't. I lost you twice last night. I'm not going to play this game like nothing actually happened to you." His head lowered. "I can't forget that."
Bill smiled, though Ralph could not see it. "I don't expect you to. Listen," Bill sighed, "And listen good. This ain't easy for me to say, but... I didn't want to lose you either, kid. You're... The best. Partner. Friend. The best ever. And seeing what I meant to you. All of your namby pamby blubbering, made me think of what you mean to me. And," there was an audible hitch in his voice as he continued, "without you, not just your magic red jammies, I couldn't do this. Not anymore." Bill moved his hand to wipe his eyes. "All I'm asking you to do is help out a friend."
Ralph allowed his eyes to slip shut and inhaled. He held that breath for a long moment, simply processing the events of the day. When he exhaled, he wore a proud smile and turned to his friend. "What do you need me to do?"
Bill smiled, a warmth reflected in his eyes that was seldom seen. "Let's set the scenario up again." Carefully, they paced over to the dried sick on the ground. "Ralph, where were you last night?"
"Jogging."
Bill waved a finger at his friend and said, "Get that man a cigar."
"I don't smoke."
Bill replied with mocking laughter. "Ha ha. You know what I mean. Alright, after I dropped you off at the park, those geeks hit my car. And I bonked my head on the dash. Got a concussion. They tied my hands, tossed me in to the trunk, drove me out here, yanked me out of the trunk, then marched me further out into the middle of no-where. Old grey eyes took out the dumb one and then started asking me about some highly classified stuff."
"What stuff, Bill?" asked Ralph.
"Who's buried in Grant's Tomb. I don't know!"
Ralph worried on his thumbnail, realising Bill hadn't heard his original suggestion. "Say he was asking about little green guys. A government cover-up."
"Is that such a good idea, kid? I mean, we've met the saucer people out here in Palmdale more than once."
"No," Ralph said, reasoning with his hands, "don't you see? They'll think that it's just the ramblings of a schizophrenic and hopefully, throw them off the trail."
"Smart boy. I knew there was some reason I kept letting you into the Maxwell affairs." Bill rubbed his chin. "So crazy was asking questions. I break free, snatch his gun and do him in. Then poor brain damaged Bill staggers to the car, only to toss his cookies and pass out. Then I come to and make the call."
Ralph let out a sad groan, not liking the part of Bill's story. "You really want me to knock you out, don't you."
"That is unless you are feeling mad enough at me that you'd..." Bill halted mid sentence. Avoiding the subject matter, he continued, "Yes, Ralph. I need you to just give me a little tap. Just enough to knock me out. Then you can blow away the footprints and fly on home."
"Okay," Ralph sighed, then gave no warning before the strike, a slight tap of Bill's forehead against the edge of the roof of the car, to make it less painful for both. Bill crumpled to the ground and Ralph met him there, checking his vitals. His partner was alive, but as requested, unconscious. Ralph arranged Bill's form to look as though he had naturally fallen. After taking a few steps back, Ralph exhaled a gust that blew the extra footprints from the sands. He took to the air, and though his friend had told him to go home, Ralph perched on a sandy outcropping of rocks and kept watch.
At dawn's full light, Bill stirred, and once he had regained his bearings, he completed his mission.
Ralph waited, under the protection of invisibility, for help to arrive before he finally flew home.
He returned home to an empty house, illuminated by a early sun. Pam had been away on a case in New York.
Ralph was exhausted, but his weariness was deeper than other late nights that he had endured. He was emotionally drained. It had been an ordeal that had changed his whole dynamic with his partner.
They had started as opposites, and, really, throughout the years, they remained as so. Even though, they knew how profoundly they had influenced each other.
Truly thinking about it, Ralph knew that he loved Pam. His love for her was at the core of this soul, the pinnacle of his life, but he loved his job. Teaching was great, but over the years, it was less of his true calling. His job was being Maxwell's partner. He knew that when the time came, he would walk with Bill onto that ship, and leave it all behind.
Before he fell asleep in his underwear on top of his duvet, he wondered if the green guys would let Pam come, too.
A hearty knocking echoing through his house roused him from his sleep. Ralph rose, yawning. He slipped on his blue silk robe and staggered to the pounding door. "Come in," he muttered, snapping his dry mouth open and closed with sleep. He unlocked the dead-bolt.
Bill burst in, with a newspaper in hand, sporting his sunglasses. He wore the same clothes that he had the night before. "Did I wake you up, kid? It's past noon." He clicked the door closed behind himself.
Ralph sat heavily on his couch. "There are some of us who got no sleep at all last night, Bill."
"Well, let me hit you with something better than a cuppa French Roast." Bill dropped the paper into Ralph's lap. "Take a gander."
Ralph held the paper aloft. "'Top Fed busts the Translation Killer.' I can only assume they mean you."
"Top Fed, yours truly, but that nut-job was a bit more widespread than we knew. He'd commission a translator to work on our instruction book and when they were done, he pop 'em, so's to hide any information they could use against him. The bureau had been looking for him after they connected his flight rosters with the locations of the murdered translators." Bill rubbed his neck. "Carlisle couldn't believe it. He signed the new car request himself." Bill laughed, but stopped suddenly, placing a hand to his head.
"Bill? You okay?" said Ralph, bolting up to lead his friend to the sofa. "How's your head?"
Once the pain faded from Bill's face, he spoke. "Yeah, fine, but that's the best part kid. My concussion earned me three required medical days, fully paid, and I don't have to spend them cooped up in some stuffy hospital room."
"Are you sure it's a concussion?" Ralph grimaced, thinking he hadn't hit Bill that hard.
"You concussed me alright, but they said it wasn't so bad..." Bill lowered his head, hiding the mix of sheepishness and a smirk. "But they said that I needed to take it easy and stay somewhere that I can be looked after."
Ralph glared at his partner, cocking his head to the side. "I am not playing nurse-maid to you all weekend, Bill."
"No, no, no, Kid. I just need you to make sure that if something happens, there is someone there to help. So I don't die in my sleep."
Ralph crossed his arms. "Bill. I thought we agreed..."
"We did, and you're right, but that's what they said at medical. They told me to stay with someone I trust. I had the cab drop me here."
Ralph allowed a look of concession cross his features. "Pam's in New York, so, I guess you can stay."
"That's great." Bill leaned back on the couch, avoiding Ralph's gaze. "Um, uh.."
The young man gave Bill a glance that reflected his training as a headmaster. "Bill? Something else you haven't told me?"
"There's more. Good news and not so good news."
"Oh?"
"Let's start with the good. I'm alive. That's good, isn't it?"
"Bill?" Ralph asked again, his eyebrows raised in anticipation.
"The book."
Ralph's eyes went as wide as saucers. He bolted up. "I forgot!"
"Sit down, kid..." Bill smiled nervously. "I, uh, I don't have it."
Ralph expression dropped and he crossed his arms. "You don't." He turned away. "Who does?"
"The bureau... might have found it, but it was real important to my alibi. See, I said that it was a toy from them Space Wars movies and that's why he was killing those translators. I told 'em that he was trying to translate a kids toy."
Ralph nervously ran his hand over his face. "It wasn't a kids toy. It was..." Ralph let his chin drop to his chest and laughed.
The infectious laughter caught Bill moments later.
Ralph sat, still laughing, "Do you think the green guys are doing this?"
"Dunno, kid," Bill said, wiping the mirth from his eyes. "But I think they have a good sense of humour."
Author's note: Thanks to MelMac for the Beta.