A/N: Sorry, I should have done this last time, but it was my first upload and i didn't know how. I now understand. Anyway. I left you on a bit of a cliffhanger, didn't I? Well, now here is the resolution. I hope you enjoy it. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own the IT Crowd. It belongs to channel four and the genius that is Graham Linehan. If i owned it, series five would be in the pipeline, and Richmond would be back...

When I woke up, I was on a cold concrete floor in a fully lit room. I wondered whether this was the same room as I had walked into. I sat up, still feeling a bit dizzy, and realised there were three things amiss. One, it was freezing in here. Two, there was a black velvet jacket under my head. And three, there was a man sitting in a chair across the room. I scrambled up from the floor, feeling my head spin, and backed away from him. He stood up.

"It's okay." He said, raising his hands in front of him. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Well, you look like you might!" He wore a black shirt, black trousers so skinny he couldn't have been able to bend down, and heeled leather boots. He had a blood red tie around his collar, and shoulder length straight black hair.

"I won't, I promise. I'm just a Goth, that's all." He blinked, drawing my attention to his eyes. They looked normal compared to the rest of him, apart from the eyeliner. They were blue, startlingly so, and they shone, though whether that was happiness, sadness, or the glint of evil, I couldn't tell. I guessed sadness, considering his expression. He sighed and looked away from me.

"Everyone's scared of me. They were before, and they are now."

"What do you mean, they were before?"

"I've worked in this company before. At one point, I was Reynholm's right hand man. I became a Goth, got shoved down here. Those three were terrified of me. Then I found a niche in helping Goths to get real jobs. I managed that for a while, but in the end, Goths decided they didn't want jobs. This was the only place I had left to go. I came back. But those three are convinced that I died and that my ghost lives in here. That's why they don't open the door. But I don't think they would if they knew it was me."

"But that's horrible. Why don't you just go out and surprise them?"

"I tried that once with a cleaner. It killed him. Stone dead. He had a heart attack."

"Oh. Maybe not that method then."

"No. Do you want to sit down?"

"Thanks." I sat in the chair opposite his, and he sat back down. "What's your name?" I asked.

"My name is Richmond Avenal. And you?"

"McKenna Adlinson."

"That's a nice name. Do you have a middle name?"

"Laetitia."

"That's much nicer than my middle name. My middle name doesn't fit me. Doesn't even fit my gender."

"What is it?"

"Felicity." I raised my eyebrows.

"Okay. Well, nothing wrong with that."

"There is. I used to get picked on for that."

"When people pick on you, or discriminate against you, you have to have a system to forget it."

"Like what?"

"Well, my method goes like this. You listen to what that person says…"

"Yes…"

"Then you notice something odd about them…"

"Yes…"

"You think of what you would say to them or call them…"

"Yes…"

"And then you don't say it."

"What?"

"By not saying something mean, you put yourself above the person who would stoop as low as to pick on you. That can give you the boost you need to get over it. It works."

"So… if I reply to your comment about my appearance…"

"Yeah… sorry about that."

"It's okay. But if I thought of something odd about you…" he looked unnervingly at me for a moment. "Okay, I have something. I don't know if it's very good."

"It's fine. Now, think of exactly what you would say to me." He thought for another moment.

"Okay. Ready."

"Now. Restrain it."

"It's restrained. But now it's stuck in my head!"

"Yeah, I usually write them down. You can just tell me yours."

"But won't that make me just as petty?"

"Not in this case, because none of us mean it."

"Well, I mean mine. But it isn't bad! It's just… weird."

"Okay… go on."

"Well, your sunny disposition unnerves me extraordinarily." I laughed.

"You mean I'm too happy for you?"

"Well, sort of. I mean, you've helped me a bit. But I'm normally miserable. It's who I am."

"It doesn't have to be who you are. You could look gothic and still be happy."

"Really?" I nodded.

"It doesn't have to be like this. You don't have to live in a closet for the rest of your life. You can be accepted."

"I would like that." He smiled a tiny, slight smile. But a smile all the same.

"That's the way. My motto is: don't worry, there's no point. Not particularly poetic, but… it does the job."

"Yes. I've never had a motto. I never bothered to think of one."

"You should try. It helps if you're in a tricky situation, to just think of your motto. Then you'll know what to do."

"That does seem like a good idea."

"Try to think of one tonight. Are you in all night?"

"I'm always in. Permanently. I can't leave, because there's always someone here who doesn't know about me."

"It's so sad, you being trapped in here. Do you have the time?" he pulled out a pocket watch and looked at it.

"It's ten fifteen." He said. "You were out a long time."

"God, I was. I'm three hours late going home. Come with me."

"Come where?"

"Back to mine. At least you can sleep in a warm room with a carpet and a proper bed." He looked at me intently again.

"Really? That's okay?"

"It's fine. And anyway, I'd enjoy the company. I've got a spare room; I'll tidy it up for you."

"Thank you, McKenna. You are very happy, aren't you? And helpful."

"I try. Come on; if we surprise any cleaners, that's their problem." I opened the door and peered out into the office. There was no one about, so we crept out. I picked up my bag and turned off my computer, before leading Richmond to the lift. It juddered up to the ground floor, and we walked out into the reception area. Although it was dark outside, the interior was lit up. However, it was empty, so we dashed out of the doors together. It wasn't until I got outdoors that I realised Richmond had taken my hand as we were running so he could keep up. I let go quickly, and he looked at the floor.

"Umm… shall we go?" I asked.

"Yes. How far away do you live?"

"Oh, only a few streets. And remember what I told you earlier. If anyone gives you stick…"

"Think of a comeback, but restrain it. And write it down. But I don't have anything to write on."

"I'll get you a pen and notebook when we get back."

"Thank you. You really are very nice. It makes me feel… weird."

"That's happiness." I crossed a road, and he trotted along behind me eagerly.

"Wow. I haven't felt that for a while."

"Well, I'm glad you are now. You don't deserve to be sad, no one does. I'm glad I could help you a bit."

"More than a bit. You got me out of there."

"You'll have to come back with me tomorrow."

"Oh, that's alright. If we get there first, we won't surprise them so much, will we?"

"I guess not." Suddenly, a gaggle of teenage boys appeared from around a corner.

"Alright, Goth?" one of them shouted.

"Where's your fangs, Dracula?"

"Shouldn't you be dead? Oh, wait, it looks like you are!"

"Remember what I said, Richmond. Restraint." Then one of them shouted:

"Oi, your bird looks more my type than yours. Can I have her?" Richmond scowled, and I stopped him. The boys got closer, until they were right next to us. Then I hit the one who had shouted last with my handbag.

"What the hell are you doing, you madwoman? On second thoughts, mate, you can bloody keep her." He ran to catch up with the rest, and Richmond frowned at me in concern.

"Are you alright?" he said.

"I'm more worried about you." I said. "Look at you. You're shaking."

"I know." His sad expression came back. "I'm not used to putting up with that kind of thing. Not after being behind the red door for so long."

"How long were you behind the door?" I asked as we started walking again.

"I'm not sure. You sort of lose track of time. The first time was about four years. Then two years helping Goths get jobs… then another year… I think."

"So it's been about seven years since you first went down there?"

"Something like that."

"I just don't know how they could do that to you."

"Well, I don't know how Douglas Reynholm could talk like that to you."

"You heard that?"

"It was hard not to. Reynholm isn't the quietest man in the world, and then you shouted at him."

"That's true. Come on, we need to cross the road here, then I live down that road. Right at the top." I pointed. Richmond nodded, and we crossed over. As I unlocked my front door a few moments later, I watched Richmond looking around my front garden, playing with the honeysuckle around my door. He was like a child in terms of experience, but I knew he was intelligent. He was picking up what I was saying so quickly. I sighed, and picked a white rose from my flowerbed.

"Here." I said, putting it in his buttonhole. "This is for you."

"Thank you. Don't all flowers mean something?"

"I don't know, do they?"

"I think so. And I think a white rose means purity or innocence."

"Suits you perfectly." I said. He smiled his little smile again, and I opened the door, letting him inside my house. I walked in after him, locked the door, and once again watched him, this time admiring the paintings on my wall.