Obligatory Disclaimer: Dark Horse and Mr. Mignola own all, save for my own original characters. A special thank you to Guillermo del Toro for bringing this wonderful character to my attention.

A/N: I will not be posting for the next few days, possibly up to a week. Tonight, I go see Tom Waits in concert, who, in part, inspired a lot of this story and who I think is just an amazing musician. If you haven't listened to him, or even heard of him, I highly suggest you seek him out. While not for everybody, I think that Tom Waits is sublime.

Then after a night of absolute giddiness, I hop in the car tomorrow morning at about 6:30am and drive to Chicago where I will spend a long weekend at Wizard World Chicago. I hear it's the second largest comic book convention next to the San Diego ComicCon. Second largest in the world, second largest in the country, second largest only in my mind, I don't know. But I cannot wait to see the Hellboy merchandise, although the 'real' reason I'm going is so that my husband and his friends can attempt to get a comic book they've been working on published! So please, keep your fingers crossed!

Thanks for dropping by and have a fabulous weekend!

Life seemed to fall back into place with minimal fallout from Torie's bombshell. Hellboy noticed no changes in his friend since the revelation of her secret. Torie still got up early on Saturdays to shop garage sales. Her clothing still came from thrift stores. Groceries were bought on Wednesdays, double coupon day. Her jet-setting, vocally-outspoken life seemed to belong to another person as she continued to lead a quiet, almost monkish, lifestyle.

It took Hellboy a little while to feel comfortable again in Torie's apartment, but after sporadic movie nights and swing-bys after a case, he was soon stopping by with regular frequency – a gift still in hand to off-set his consumption of beers and the occasional meal.

And always – always – Torie was ready to feed him. She had pre-made meals just waiting to be plucked out of her freezer and thawed in the microwave before being cooked. Or just plain re-heated in the microwave if it was already cooked when frozen. Meatloaf. Chicken breasts. Tuna casserole.

But one day, when he was in search of a beer, Hellboy opened the freezer on a whim just to see what Torie had stockpiled. What he found was that the freezer was filled to nearly over-flowing with the same brand of cheap frozen dinners. It took a moment of standing with the door open, cold air washing over him, before it dawned on him that Torie was feeding him well, and plying him with drinks, while she was eating very frugally. The realization hit him square in the chest.

Checking the clock on the microwave, Hellboy noticed that it was quarter after six. The timing was perfect.

Walking back to the balcony doors where Torie was out watering her boxed flowers, Hellboy stuck his head out and beckoned her inside. "C'mon, we're getting out of here tonight."

Torie wrinkled her brow and laughed as she set down her watering can. "What? What are you talking about? Where are we going?" The evening was gorgeous – the temperatures hovering around 80 with a light breeze and no hint of humidity – and Torie really didn't want to spend the evening cooped up in a loud restaurant. In fact, she had hoped to have a light meal of wine, bread and cheese on the balcony, although convincing her guest to consume vino instead of beer was going to be a challenge.

Pleased that she did indeed come inside, albeit grudgingly, Hellboy tossed Torie her purse and a jacket, both of which she plucked out of mid-air. "I got a hankering for some pamcakes. So I'm buying us dinner tonight. You always provide the drinks and eats, so now I want to try to pay back some of my tab. I know a great little place that serves the best omelets. You'll be raving about them for the rest of your life."

Torie stared at her friend for a long moment. Things were finally back on track with them and even though he swore there wasn't any lingering doubts, some awkwardness reared up from time to time. But Hellboy hated socializing in public because of the inevitable stares, so Torie was confused. But wasn't sure of how to ask him about his change of heart.

Fairfield was generally an upscale community, although not where Torie lived. But she noticed that people would realize that their cast-off clothing was now being worn on her back and Torie had to bite her tongue on more than one occasion when she became the object of their distain. She could only imagine what Hellboy went through. "Breakfast? For dinner? If you want pancakes, I can whip up my famous Aunt Jemima's recipe. Maybe you've heard of her?"

He could see the cogs turning in her head and Hellboy couldn't blame Torie. And while he hated the stares, where they were going was more like visiting a friend rather than going to a business. "Oh, don't act all too-good-for-break-for-dinner around me. Breakfast is wasted on the mornings. Why eat some of the best food made when you're half-asleep? Of course, there's never a bad time for breakfast, even if you are half-asleep… But that's a whole other argument! What I'm talking about is not your average, ordinary, run-of-the-mill pamcakes, but rather I'm talking about food of the gods."

A brow arched. "Food of the gods? I must admit that you're piqued my interest. Lead on…"

The two trudged out into the warm evening air. Both decided to take advantage of the nice weather and decided to walk towards the Fairfield Historic District. As the passed several blocks, both were quiet, although the silence was not uncomfortable.

"So how much of Fairfield have you actually explored?" Hellboy's words broke into Torie's thoughts, pulling her from the architecture surrounding them. Looking around, Torie thought a moment before answering. Prior to her acceptance of the Programs Director position, Torie had met with several influential members of Fairfield society in the hopes of utilizing her reputation to gain extra funding for the shelter. So there had been a week where Torie had traversed affluent neighbors and partook in dining at some of nicest restaurants.

Shrugging her shoulders, Torie grimaced slightly. "Not much. I mean, I read up on the history of the area and have a guidebook, but I'm not much for being a tourist in my own neighborhood. I prefer to experience places via word of mouth and serendipitous visits. But you got any inside information I should know?"

"Well, the TV show 'Who's the Boss?' was set here in Fairfield."

Torie rolled her eyes and playfully punched Hellboy in the arm. "You know, I'm surprised it took you so long to tell me that because everyone – and I mean everyone – I have met here has told me that… at least once."

Scrunching his face up in thought, Hellboy absently rubbed where Torie had landed her fist. "You know, I only told you that so I could set up the next bit of trivia and impress you with the fact that Chris Frantz and Tina Weymouth, founding members of Talking Heads and Tom Tom Club live here in Fairfield."

"Okay, that is cool." Torie furrowed her brow at the thought of her friend enjoying such avant-garde music and was about to ask how much New Wave he liked, when Hellboy interrupted her thoughts.

"And here we are!" Hellboy announced gleefully.

The two were standing outside a creperie just outside the Fairfield Historic District. The sign read 'The Crepes of Matt,' which elicited a groan from Torie. "You must know this Matt. The two of you have the same sense of humor. I will never be able to listen to 'The Battle Hymn of the Republic' or read Steinbeck in the same way again."

"What? The name is freakin' hilarious! But if you're going to be that way, at least hold off judgment until after you've eaten. Okay?"

Torie shook her head in amusement as she pushed open the door and went into the restaurant.

Hellboy burst out of the restaurant with a smile on his face as Torie strolled out leisurely, enjoying a full belly and the sleepiness that came along with a good meal.

"That… was… amazing."

"So you kept saying with each bite of food."

"No. I mean it. I think I need to get a thesaurus so I can accurately describe just how amazing that meal was. Dude… You've been holding out on me! I don't think that I can eat anywhere else ever again."

The meal consisted of one dish after another brought out for the pair to sample. Belgian waffles, breakfast casseroles, buttermilk pancakes, breakfast pizzas, egg wraps, scones, muffins and, of course, crepes. The varieties were nearly endless… fruit, chocolate, salmon, veggies and a variety of cheeses.

Matt Trowely, owner and chef, treated Hellboy like the prodigal son and Torie was welcomed equally. Tucked away in a corner booth, away from the prying eyes of the other patrons, Matt made sure that their every need was catered to personally. Torie found out that Matt had previously worked in the kitchens of the Bureau right after the agency had relocated to Fairfield, always with the dream of opening a restaurant of his own one day.

For a Saturday night, Torie was surprised by just how busy the creperie was. But after she dug into the heaping pile of food before her, she understood why. And most of the entrees were priced at a very reasonable five dollars or less. Torie had no idea how Matt turned a profit, but wasn't about to question his reasons. The food, the pricing, the inside of the restaurant itself… it all seemed too good to be true.

And her uncomfortably full tummy completely agreed.

Once the meal was over, the pair was greeted by full dark as they stepped outside. Standing in the glow of a streetlight, Torie toed a crack in the sidewalk and waited for Hellboy to speak, not knowing he was doing the same thing.

Finally, Torie couldn't take the dancing bugs that were attracted to the light and took a step towards the street. "So, we calling it a night or what?" she blurted out.

"Only if you're tired."

"Well, not really, but I don't just want to go back to the apartment and watch TV. But there's also the fact that I want to make sure you have fun. It was nice in there, but I don't want the next stop to ruin our night."

Loosening a cigarette from his pack, Hellboy lipped it and fished out his lighter. "Well, the Fairfield Community Theatre Foundation is showing Willy Wonka, if you're interested. The original." The click of the flint wheel echoed in the night.

"I've… I've actually never seen it," Torie sheepishly admitted.

Disbelief washed over Hellboy's features as he exhaled his drag. "What? Not even as a kid? Geez, we gotta rectify the situation. C'mon!" Tugging on her arm, Hellboy drug Torie across the street and around the corner, setting a fast pace towards the movie house.

After buying two tickets, of which Hellboy gleefully held them up and starting sing-songing "I've got the golden tickets," the two trudged into the theater and tucked themselves into the last row against the wall. Both were stuffed from the meal, but Hellboy almost wished that they had a bag of popcorn to share, if only to accidentally brush Torie's fingers from time to time.

When the lights came back on in the theater, Hellboy turned to Torie and asked, "Well?"

Torie shifted in her seat, wondering how Hellboy had managed to fold himself into his own. But the film had completely enchanted her and Torie decided that if she ever had a son, she wanted him to be just like Charlie. "I LOVED it! It completely blew me away. But I think Gee Wilder is one of the most underappreciated national treasures we have. And while I can see that it's supposed to be a family film, I'm kinda glad that I never saw it when I was a kid. I thin it would have given me nightmares; that Wonka guy is a sadistic fuck."

Hellboy chuckled and shook his head in amusement.

"Tired?"

Torie shrugged her shoulders. "I dunno. Maybe. Not really. Why? What do you have in mind?"

"Just want to go down to the beach for a little bit. It's close, I haven't been in a while, thought you might enjoy going."

"You? Want to go an hang out on the beach? Uh, sure. Never one to pass up a trip to the ocean. That's one of my big regrets since moving here… I keep meaning to go see the water, but I'll set it aside when something comes up and forget about it for awhile." As her mind wrapped around the idea, Torie's enthusiasm gained momentum. "Awesome idea, Sam! Let's go!"

"My God, this is gorgeous!" Torie breathed.

The moon hung in the sky, barely a thin sickle suspended in the air, reflecting golden on the lace-edged swells. The water, as it ebbed and flowed, seemed to chatter amongst itself, speaking a language that Torie wanted so desperately to understand. Glancing in both directions, Torie saw beach for as far as the eye could see and in the darkness, she saw that they were alone on the beach.

Impulsively pulling off her shoes, Torie suddenly ran out to chase the retreating surf, only to scream in surprise as the water flowed back and smacked her in the thighs despite her attempts to get away. Soaked, Torie stood stock still for a moment and let the shifting sand beneath her feet rush over her toes.

Hellboy watched Torie with amusement and a touch of melancholy. What he wouldn't give to be carefree again. But watching someone else who was, on occasion, as jaded as he was get to shed the burden of the world for a few moments was breathtaking. Rapture was something he missed in his life, but there were still moments of passing awe; standing on the edge of the ocean still gave Hellboy that from time to time.

Stepping closer to where Torie was anchored, Hellboy quietly said, "Kinda puts things into perspective, doesn't it?"

Torie turned around and smiled at Hellboy, her teeth blinding white in the darkness and her eyes merry with excitement. She threw up her arms, as if reaching for the crescent moon to hang from, and began to recite:

"We are the music makers. And we are the dreamer of dreams. Wandering by lone sea-breakers. And sitting by desolate streams. World-losers and world-forsakers. On whom the pale moon gleams. Yet we are the movers and shakers. Of the world for ever, it seems.

"With wonderful deathless ditties. We build up the world's great cities. And out of a fabulous story. We fashion an empire's glory. One man with a dream, at pleasure. Shall go forth and conquer a crown. And three with a new song's measure. Can trample an empire down.

"We, in the ages lying. In the buried past of earth. Built Nineveh with our sighing. And Babel itself with our mirth. And o'erthrew them with prophesying. To the old of the new world's worth. For each age is a dream that is dying. Or one that is coming to birth.

"A breath of our inspiration. Is the life of each generation. A wondrous thing of our dreaming. Unearthly, impossible seeming-. The soldier, the king, and the peasant. Are working together in one. Till our dream shall become their present. And their work in the world be done.

"They had no vision amazing. Of the goodly house they are raising. They had no divine foreshowing. Of the land to which they are going. But on one man's soul it hath broke. A light that doth not depart. And his look, or a word he hath spoken. Wrought flame in another man's heart.

"And therefore today is thrilling. With a past day's late fulfilling. And the multitudes are enlisted. In the faith that their fathers resisted. And, scorning the dream of tomorrow. Are bringing to pass, as they may. In the world, for it's joy or it's sorrow. The dream that was scorned yesterday.

"But we, with our dreaming and singing.Ceaseless and sorrowless we! The glory about us clinging. Of the glorious futures we see. Our souls with high music ringing. O men! It must ever be. That we dwell, in our dreaming and singing. A little apart from ye.

"For we are afar with the dawning. And the suns that are not yet high. And out of the infinite morning. Intrepid you hear us cry-. How, spite of your human scorning. Once more God's future draws nigh. And already goes forth the warning. That ye of the past must die.

"Great hail! we cry to the corners. From the dazzling unknown shore. Bring us hither your sun and your summers. And renew our world as of yore. You shall teach us your song's new numbers. And things that we dreamt not before. Yea, in spite of a dreamer who slumbers. And a singer who sings no more."

Hellboy's brow furrowed in confusion. "Wait… those first two lines… aren't those from the movie?"

Sloshing closer to where Hellboy stood, Torie nodded her head. "Yea. I was so excited when I heard them. That has got to be my favorite poem. I took a poetry class for fun while I was in grad school because I wanted something completely unlike anything I knew or was studying. Anyway, I fell in love with the poem because it reminded me of me. Arthur O'Shaughnessy dies tragically young, but what a legacy!"

Unsure of what to say, Hellboy closed the distance between them, wading out into the water, and impulsively hugged Torie against him. Her arms wrapped around him and her cheek rested against his chest. The warmth and kindness he radiated was like getting tucked in with her favorite blanket.

Both stood still and savored the moment until Hellboy sighed contentedly, his chest rising and falling, which brought Torie back to reality. She was standing in the ocean with someone she may or may not want to take beyond friendship. And while nothing seemed more romantic, Torie had no intention of transitioning their relationship in such a public area, if she decided to at all.

"I need to get home." At the look of disappointment that ghosted across Hellboy's features, Torie explained, "It's late. Lance probably is dying with need to go out. I'm… I'm sorry, but I should get back home."

Desperately wishing a tidal wave would appear and drag him out to sea, Hellboy let Torie untangle herself from his embrace. Looking down at the water swirling around his boots, he grimaced before turning and following Torie's retreating back.

It seemed that things were indeed back to normal.