Antoine tossed his and Preston's suitcases onto the bed, and started unpacking. For his clothes, that was a simple matter: unzip suitcase, turn it upside down, shake till empty. It was pretty much the inverse of his packing process.

Preston, on the other hand, had a system. Everything was neatly laid out in his suitcase. For that, Antoine carefully removed each item and set it in a row on the bed. He placed Preston's clothes in a row, and started unpacking his housemate's toiletries. A pill bottle fell to the floor. Curios, Antoine picked it up. The label on the side stated it was Alprazolam. He peered at the little oval tablets through the side of the vial.

"Hey Preston," he called out, mildly concerned. "What's this?"
"What's what?" asked Preston from the kitchen where he'd been warming a frozen pizza for dinner.

"These little pills," replied Antoine, shaking the bottle.

Preston hastily appeared in the doorway and held out a hand. "You weren't supposed to find those."

"What are they?"

Preston sighed and slipped the pill bottle into his pocket. "I'm not going to lie to you. It's Xanax. For my anxiety." Preston could caught the expression on Antoine's face. "Oh come on, don't look at me like that. I don't even know what that look means."

Antoine rubbed the back of his neck. "It means I want to make sure you're okay. It means I care about you and I worry. I knew you were struggling since that incident and all, but I guess I didn't realize how bad it was."

Preston leaned in the doorway. "Yeah, it was getting pretty bad."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Antoine asked, sitting down on his bed.

Preston looked away. "I was afraid you'd think less of me. That I was weak, or a junkie, or something. It's hard to deal with things that are all in your own head. Sometimes it seems like I'm the only one who feels this way. I don't want to let you down."

Antoine patted the bed next to him. "Come here, sit down."

Preston sat.

"Look," Antoine began firmly, "I don't judge. You're my friend, I care about you and I wanna see you succeed. I know you're going through stuff, and I know I'm not. Things affect us different. That's okay. As long as you're getting better, as long as that head doc and those peachy little pills are helping, keep up with both." Antoine put his head on Preston's shoulder, his blue hair falling around Preston's neck. "But if they stop helping, or you start feeling worse, promise me you'll tell me, okay?"

Preston leaned into Antoine. "I will, I promise. I do feel better though. Things are coming together at the plant, and I've got those public relations projects to bolster our image. Ironically, going back to Springfield actually helped."

"How?"

Preston gave a one-handed shrug. "I don't know. Maybe it was closure? Who knows. I don't think anyone exactly knows why things affect people the way they do. Why would that AlkaliStark incident leave me so shaken, while you can joke about getting shot a few weeks later? It doesn't make sense."

"Feels don't have to," Antoine replied carefully. "That's why they're called feelings, not knowings."

Preston regarded Antoine thoughtfully. "Oddly, that makes sense."

"That's what I'm here for, Preppy dog. To help you make sense of this strange, wonderful world."

Preston gave Antoine a one-armed hug. "Thanks, Antoine. You do help. You know what also helps though? Rhonda has completely been leaving me alone since we got back. I don't know why, but I like it."

Antoine leaned back and stared at Preston for a moment or two. "You didn't know?" he asked, incredulous.

"Know what?"

"Jeeze, word just doesn't travel to the ivory tower does it." Antoine shook his head. "Rowdy's gone, man! Poof, disappeared. Completely of the radar. Kinda scary, actually."

The timer on the oven dinged. Preston ran into the kitchen to take the pizza out. Antoine followed him, and flopped into a stool at the breakfast bar. He folded his hands on the countertop and watched Preston amiably.

"Does anyone know what happened? And how do you even know? We just got back yesterday."

Antoine drummed his palms on the counter. "Stewart told me. Sharon sent him up there to see how she liked the new lightbulbs because she's got this sort of dimmer switch or something installed in her office, and she wasn't there. So then Stewart starts digging. And it turns out she flew to Springfield a day behind us, rented a car from the airport, and that's the last anyone's heard of her." Antoine played with a twist-tie that had gotten swept against the backsplash. "Her rental car showed up at the airport yesterday, but utterly no trace of her." He gave Preston a leer and dropped his voice. "It's like she never existed. Oooooo," he moaned.

Preston slapped his hand with a spatula.

"Quit making ghost noises. You're starting to creep me out."

Antoine snickered.

"I'm going to give Waylon a call," Preston decided as he grabbed a few plates from the cupboard. "Come on. It'll be a while before the pizza's cool enough to eat anyhow." He grabbed Antoine by the shirt sleeve and pulled him into his room at the end of the hall.

Antoine rarely went in Preston's room. It had been one of his spare room. It was smaller than the master bedroom, but cozy; and distinctly Preston.

Preston opened his laptop and entered in Smithers' number. It took a few minutes while the lines connected. Smithers answered, apparently on a tablet. He was in the library, Burns in the background.

"Preston," Smithers said cordially. "What's up?
"There's something I want to ask you," Preston began.

"We got ourselves a mystery!" Antoine crowed, shoving his face into the frame.

"Will you get out of here!?" Preston admonished, pushing him away. "Sorry about that, Waylon. Antoine's… well, he's Antoine." Preston gave his housemate a reproachful look. Antoine made a face. "Anyhow, the gist of the matter is one of my employees has gone missing."

Smithers' face was completely bland. "Oh really?" he asked.

Preston nodded. "She flew out to Springfield a day behind us, rented a car. Then a few days later, the car showed back up at the airport, but she's been nowhere to be found." Preston paused, choosing his words carefully. "I don't suppose you know anything about that?"

Burns' voice called out from the background, but Preston could make it out.

"I'm sorry, Mister Burns. Can you repeat that?"

Burns hawk-like face appeared over Smithers' shoulder. "I said she should be landing in Bangalore any minute now."

Preston digested that for a minute. "Wait, what!?"

"With the rest of the still serviceable nuclear items," Smithers explained. "We have a power plant out there too."

Burns cut in. "We found her skulking about the grounds on the eve of our wedding. Now, I simply can't have trespassers as you well know. Since the hounds were put away aside from my dear old Crippler, Waylon and I had to handle the matter ourselves. When she said she was the senior vice-president at your plant, well, I need at least one American employee at my plant for tax purposes, so that solved things quite nicely." He patted Smithers' shoulder. "Waylon here trussed her up like a thanksgiving goose, and off she went. I'm sorry if you want her back, my boy, but I'm afraid I'm going to be hanging on to her for a while."

"Good! Keep her!" yelled Antoine from behind Preston.

Preston shushed him.

"Well, I'm not exactly sure how I feel about this…" Preston began voice trailing off.
Smithers spoke up. "Don't worry, Preston, she'll be fine." He glanced over his shoulder at Burns. "She will be fine, right? You did remember to put air holes in that crate, right?"

Burns paled slightly. "Dash it Waylon, I can't be expected to remember everything by myself can I?"

Smithers winced. "Hold please!" The screen froze for a minute. Antoine and Preston exchanged concerned looks.

A few seconds later, Smithers' feed went live again. "Yes, I just called overto our receiving department. She's fine, a bit groggy from the tranquilizers, but otherwise unharmed. You know, getting that woman into the crate was like trying to wrestle a bear. She was frightfully strong. It's a good thing we managed to get her sedated before anyone lost a limb or something."

Burns head appeared back in the screen. "I'm sorry if this leave you short staffed, Tucci, but you know what they say: finders, keepers."

Preston looked at Antoine, then nodded. "No, it's fine Mister Burns. Congratulations on your newest acquisition. I hope she brings you many years of joy."
Burns smiled proudly. "I'm sure she will. I like to think of this as the first formal trade you and I have made, my boy. But hopefully not the last. You're not so bad. Young, perhaps; but that will change with time. I hope we might someday do business again in the future." He tossed Preston a jaunty salute, and disappeared from the screen.

"I've to get going as well," added Smithers. "It was good to see you two again though. Don't be strangers.

Antoine and Preston waved. "Bye Waylon, and thanks again."

Smithers disconnected, and the line went dead. Antoine patted Preston on the back. "Well that solves that. Now how 'bout some pizza. I bet it's cool by now."

"Antoine, I could eat dinner with you every night," Preston smiled as he stood up.

Antoine beamed. "Be careful what you say, Preppy. I might hold you too that."

Preston chuckled softly to himself. So might I, Antoine, he mused fondly thinking of possible futures, so might I.