Author's Note: Rick says hi. (a.k.a the authoress has absolutely no idea what to put here. Oh, and HI ALISON! Torres:( The Angels got Pujols! I kinda wished we would go for him... But that would never happen. Oh, what the heck. I'm cool with all our old washed up guys. It adds...character.)

OoOoOoOoOoO

Rick stared at Mr. Wetherall, his jaw nearly hitting the floor.

"Ya-ya mean like, the President of the United States, or, like, the President of the Wisconsin Bi-Monthly Cheese Club? 'Cause if that was the case, I wouldn't be the first in the family." Mr. Wetherall laughed. Rick decided he liked the man. His laugh was like father's. Loud, deep, and joyful. And his daughter was darn cute.

"I mean the President of the US. You look like a good guy, and I don't want you mixed up in any funny business again. I could get you a job, not a dangerous one, but it would be better than tagging along with Ole' One Eyebrow, and McDonald's, or whatever the hell his name is." Rick stuck out his hand. Milligan's blue eyes seemed to brighten up the room, and they shook.

"Okey dokey Mr. Wetherall, ya got yerself a deal."

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Mr. C paced the room, his face getting redder with each forced, deliberate step.

"You-" He spluttered. "You lost Epstein, and Wetherall? And what do you mean lost Epstein? I thought he worked for you! And don't even start on the ruined shockwatches. Do you know how much those cost? Do you?" He began to say more, but his body went limp, and Garrotte stuck out a well-muscled arm to catch him. He looked at Crawlings, who shrugged.

"Just wait until he wakes up, I guess." His eyebrow was smoldering, and his suit was ripped. It took all of Garrotte's willpower not to giggle. Crawlings did look rather silly.

Mr. C began to awaken, and Garrotte gently slid him into a chair. He looked wildly around, and his eyes settled on the barbecued man in front of him. His hands shook with rage again, but he took a breath and calmed himself. Crawlings cleared his throat.

"Uh, sir? We have your new chair. It came this morning. If you could sign this sheet," He motioned to a paper on the desk,"We could bring it in for you." Mr. C nodded. "Very well." He motioned for a pen, and told Garrotte to bring in the chair. Crawlings peeked at the sheet. He wanted to see what the man's name really was.

The chair came in. Then Garrotte, jogging behind it. Crawlings shook his head, and looked again. The chair rolled over to his boss, and stopped with an awful squeal. Mr. C got up, and sat in the seat. He lifted his hand, and signed the paper. Two names were clear on the paper, in loopy, slanted cursive.

Ledroptha Curtain.

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Rick sat in the plastic chair in the stiflingly white room, glancing at the candies on the desk of the receptionist. Milligan nudged him, and pointed to the door.

"It's you turn Ricky. Do your best kid." Rick swallowed, and got up. Milligan watched him cross the room, looking like he wanted to vomit. He smiled. He would do fine. Milligan had made sure that he would at least get the smallest job. Anything to keep him safe from the Recruiters. He chuckled at the loud voice of the young man that came drifting from behind the close door. It banged open, making the receptionist glance disapprovingly at Rick. He was grinning ear to ear.

"Guess what, Mr. W? I'm a postman now! And yer house is on my route! I'll get to see you every day!" He hugged the older man, and Milligan laughed.

"Good for you Ricky. Good for you."

A/N Yay! Finally a happy ending!