Chapter 8: Rabbit Run

"Buster, stop running into the street you idiot!" Babs yelled.

They had been kicked out of the club almost immediately after Buster had thrown up. Slightly embarrassed, Yakko helped Babs drag a protesting Buster out the door. He had been running around like a fool for the last fifteen minutes; Yakko felt like a shepherd as he and Babs tried to guide him home. But Buster had run out into the street – again – and to Yakko's sudden dismay he realized Buster was directly in the path of a car.

Without thinking Yakko whipped a lasso out from behind his back and tossed it. It looped perfectly around Buster; Babs leapt forward, and together they tugged Buster to the safety of the curb just as the car sped by.

"Watch it!" the driver shouted gruffly.

"Why, is it gonna do tricks?" Yakko shouted back, and Babs sighed.

"Thanks," she said, "that lasso trick was actually pretty good. Where'd you learn that? Do they have cowboys in New York now?"

Yakko shook his head. "No, they have stagehands. Some of the guys on our crew for Miser-toons had worked on Phantom of the Opera. They have all kinds of rope tricks in that production, and they taught me a bunch during down time. And I eh, had some practice during our little weasel encounter."

Babs slid the rope off of Buster, who looked at her and cried, "You freed me!" before collapsing. She rolled her eyes and handed the rope to Yakko, who let it disappear behind his back.

"We're gonna have to carry his stupid ass," she muttered.

Yakko grabbed one of Buster's arms and slid it around his shoulders. "Careful, that's your boyfriend you're talking about."

"Trust me, I'm only too aware," Babs said as she did the same.

They hoisted him up and began walking, albeit awkwardly.

"You guys are the best!" Buster slurred, his feet dragging. "Silver's is the best! Plucky is the best! Sidewalks are the best!"

Babs sighed pointedly, but Buster broke into a laughing fit. He looked up at Yakko, his eyes watering. "You have fun tonight Yakky?"

Yakko quirked an eyebrow at "Yakky" and said, "Yeah, sort of."

Between Buster and what had just happened at the club, Yakko felt like he had too many trains of thought and not enough tracks. First there was what Max had said, which had equal parts disturbed and angered him. He hoped that Max had just made it up out of drunken rage – which, if that was true, that was a rather despicable lie. But the sinking feeling in Yakko's stomach told him that he really couldn't be sure of that conviction. As much as he hated to admit it, Max was well connected and often the first to know, and revel in, bad news.

But if he thought about Max too much then Minerva would suddenly cloud his brain. The thought of her mouth, her hot breath so close to his face, sent a shiver up his spine. This seemed to override any uneasiness he might have felt over the fact that two months ago she wanted nothing to do with him and now she couldn't wait to get her paws on him. Oh well, he thought, there could be worse problems to have.

And then of course there was Buster. He had seen Buster drunk before, in basement parties with cheap beer, but he had never seen him like this. Too drunk to walk on his own, barely able to see straight, vomit drying on the fur of his chin…not exactly his classiest moment. Looking at his friend, he sighed too – this would just be another case to file under "Buster being young and stupid."

"You have fun babe?" Buster asked Babs, lightly swatting her with his ear.

"Oh, I had a blast," Babs drawled, "my favorite part was when some of your puke got on my jeans."

Buster just giggled at this.

Yakko looked around Buster's head at Babs. "Could have been worse, you know."

She craned her neck as well to look at him. "How so?"

"Could have been Plucky's puke," Yakko reasoned.

Babs snorted. "Well, when you put it that way, my night was simply divine."

"I don't know why you don't do it more often."

"Buster does it often enough for the both of us," Babs said bitterly.

Buster giggled at the sound of his name.

Yakko adjusted Buster's arm to a more comfortable position over his shoulders and looked at Babs. She had stopped glaring at Buster and was now staring resolutely ahead of her, as though determined to forget that she was half-dragging her drunk boyfriend down a sidewalk.

"Hey Babs, he…" Yakko started, surprised to find himself stumbling over his words. He knew what he wanted to ask, but he was afraid of the answer. "…this is a rare occurrence, right? Just having some fun?"

"You kiddin'?" Babs asked.

"No."

"I could never tell when you were joking or being serious," Babs said, sounding as though she was speaking to herself. They continued to walk, and she inhaled deeply before continuing, "This is every weekend. This is a few nights a week. It wasn't bad like this until about a year ago, when he stopped going to auditions and started going to clubs instead. He makes a nightly ass of himself. He's thrown up in my car so many times I can't scrub the smell out anymore. He doesn't do anything else. He doesn't try anymore, not even for…well…sorry, I sound like a public service announcement..."

She trailed off as Yakko's stomach sank. Swallowing, he clenched his jaw and watched Buster's drooping ears swing back and forth. Babs looked at Yakko's face, and her own softened.

"You had no idea, did you?" she whispered.

Yakko shook his head. He felt ill.

"I'm sorry, Yakko."

This caused him to look back up at her. Her blue eyes were softer and sadder than he could ever remember seeing them.

"I'm the one who should be apologizing," Yakko told her quietly, "I didn't even realize…I didn't even know...I should have talked to him more, I could have found out, I could have done something about it…I'm sorry you have to deal with this Babs, really."

Babs shook her head at him. "You have to talk to Scratchensniff more often, you've got a self-critical streak longer than the Nile."

"What are you talking about? I happen to think the world of myself," Yakko scoffed.

"Let's see…" Babs began listing with her fingers, "when Animaniacs got cancelled, you thought it was all your fault. When Buster got in that fender bender, you thought it was all your fault. When Wakko and Dot got jumped by those weasels, you thought it was all your fault. Face it Yakko, you're kind of a drama queen."

He grinned at her. "Now that's calling the kettle black."

"Hey! My reactions to situations are perfectly in proportion," Babs countered.

"Oh yeah, sure," Yakko snorted, "I saw when that drunk guy tried to cop a feel when you were dancing with Shirley. I could understand a pie in the face. Six pies in the face? And a left hook? You've got to admit Babs, that's a bit much."

"You've gotta teach 'em a lesson somehow," Babs said with a bit of a cowgirl-ish twang. She paused for a moment before asking in a normal but suspicious voice, "Why were you watching me dance?"

Yakko started at this and let go of Buster, catching his friend just before he hit the ground. Not only was that a very good question, but he had no idea how to answer it. Good lord, was he blushing?

"Don't be ridiculous, I was looking at the drunk guy," Yakko quipped, doing his best to use Buster's face to shield his.

Babs laughed genuinely at this, and after all that terrible music in the club, it was the nicest sound Yakko had ever heard.

Too bad it was punctuated by the sickening splatter of more vomit.

"Jesus Buster!" Babs cried, all signs of amusement gone.

"I'm not Jesus," Buster slurred.

"Thanks for clarifying that for us," Yakko drawled. He pulled more of Buster's weight onto his shoulders and said, "I got him Babs, you can keep clear of the splash zone."

"No Yakko, it's fine," Babs said, pulling Buster back towards her.

"No Babs, really," Yakko insisted as he pulled back.

"I'm not a tug of war rope, god," Buster groaned.

"Look, don't worry about it. He's my boyfriend, not yours," Babs sighed wearily.

"Not if you ask Max," Yakko joked, and Babs snorted again. "He's my best friend though, that's got to count for at least half of him."

Babs was watching Buster as they walked. She looked as though she had just tasted something stale. Buster was still suspended limply between them, muttering quietly to himself, his ears hanging in front of his face.

"Yakko, tell me something," Babs began quietly, "you were in New York for two years...now that you're back, do you recognize him? Buster, I mean?"

"Can't say I've met too many blue bunnies to confuse him with," Yakko said.

"You know what I mean."

Though he could feel her staring at him now, Yakko was afraid to meet Babs' gaze. It would confirm too many things he had feared, too many ways life had changed. He was afraid he would say things in return, lots of things…so he kept his eyes locked on Buster. His best friend. His first loyalty after his siblings.

"Yes, I recognize him," Yakko replied, his voice low, "I see the exact same guy I saw two years ago."

"And you think that's a good thing?" Babs asked.

"It can be," Yakko said quietly.

Babs stopped suddenly, halting their strange little train, and faced him the best she could while still propping up Buster. "But is it, though?" she pressed, "Is it good to stay the same when everything, everyone around you is changing? Pretend everything is the same? To just never grow up? To not face it, to ignore it, wash it all away whatever drink you can get your hands on?"

The quiver in her voice made Yakko look up. She had tried to sound angry, but the fragile question in her wide eyes, the yearning for him to say it was okay, tore apart everything. Tears glinted in the corners of her eyes, but seemed to stop them from falling by sheer force of will. Yakko was glad of this. He wasn't sure what he'd do if she cried.

"Hey, he's my best friend. He's also standing…well, barely standing right next to me. I don't know what you're expecting me to say," Yakko said curtly.

She glared at him. "You're Yakko. I was hoping you'd at least say something."

"Look, I don't know if I have an answer to your question, alright? What I know is what it's like to grow up way too fast, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone," Yakko said. A small part of him was shocked – he'd never said that to anybody before.

"I think a lot of us had to grow up too fast. You more than anyone," Babs responded.

They held each other's gaze for a moment before Buster groaned, "Why are we stopping?" Babs turned around and continued to march resolutely forward. Yakko joined her, but still kept his eyes on her. Her jaw was set, she walked with purpose.

"Buster told me that you were kind of having a rough time," Yakko began, slowly, "is there anything you want to talk about? We've still got another half a mile to go, and Buster isn't the greatest conversationalist at the moment."

"What did he tell you?" she asked, her voice steely.

"Nothing, just that you were having some personal trouble. Is there anything – "

"No."

"It's okay, I just spent two years in New York, I'm not judgmental – "

"Not planning on changing my mind."

Yakko narrowed his eyes at her. "You're stubborn."

"You're nosy," Babs countered.

"I'm usually not."

"Does that mean I'm a special case?"

"Yeah, you should be honored."

"I can't wait to tell all my friends," Babs said, then mimed being on the phone with her free hand and continued in a valley girl voice, "Oh Shirley you won't believe what happened tonight! Yakko tried to pry into my personal life, isn't that grand? I know, right?"

Yakko tried to be annoyed that she was poking fun at him but he grinned instead. He had never really spoken to Babs without Buster around – well, in a sense – and there was something intriguing about it that he couldn't place. Talking to her was easy and difficult at the same time; he didn't have to worry about sticking to monosyllabic words, but he couldn't bluff his way through conversation either. She was too quick, too adept at weeding through his fluff. Even though his body was screaming for sleep, he wanting to keep talking like this, he liked the challenge –

Buster coughed up a bit of bile on his foot.

Wakko was starving. It had been about three hours since he'd last eaten and he was feeling faint. Besides, killing zombies was really taking it out of him. Not to mention that all the zombie blood was reminding him of the weasel's ink-covered face. And his arm hurt. Again.

Tossing the controller aside, Wakko rolled sluggishly off the couch and padded into the kitchen. The refrigerator was overflowing with greasy boxes of Chinese food, cartons of carrot juice, and what looked liked incredibly old chicken wings. Wakko grabbed the box of leftover pizza from dinner and began to munch on a cold slice. He looked around the kitchen as he chewed – Buster really did have a nice kitchen. Shiny pots and pans hung over a marble-topped island in the center of a sea of checkered tile. Sleek, modern appliances contrasted with the rustic nature of the rest of the room, making the overall affect quite appealing. Wakko took another bite and two pepperoni pieces toppled off his slice and landed on a pile of papers. He tossed the pepperoni jumpers into his mouth but noticed that they had left greasy spots on the paper.

Hoping it wasn't important, Wakko glanced at the pile. It looked like pages of Scratchensniff's scribbles, a handwriting he knew well – he and Yakko, along with Buster, used to sneak into Scratchensniff's files and read his reports all the time. Wakko wanted to read what Scratchensniff wrote about his classmates while Yakko was more concerned with what the doctor had to say about the older toons and himself. If nothing else, he had a lot of dirt on people…how many could say they knew that Foghorn Leghorn once wet himself when he saw a KFC commercial?

A small bit of devilish excitement sparked in him at the thought of this. If this was someone's file he'd have a lot of great reading material tonight…Yakko always told him and Dot they needed to read more…

Grinning, Wakko read through the first few sentences. The grin slowly slid off his face as he realized what he was reading, and his heart began to beat faster.

SLAPPY: Chemical burns = 68% total body

41%: Back

15%: Face

12%: Chest/Abdomen

Splash pattern suggests chemical was launched as mechanized projectile, possible gunshot

Witnesses complain of "acrid stench" "nauseating smell"

DIP

Beneath this was a map of Los Angeles that was marked up with little red dots. A large cluster was concentrated in and around Toontown, with only a few in West Hollywood and Downtown. Beside each dot was a date and time, and another number scribbled in a tiny scrawl. None of them were dated earlier than this past December. A post it note was stuck to the bottom corner of the map:

Manhattan

March 2

3pm

4

Wakko frowned. March 2nd? Manhattan? That was barely two weeks ago, he'd been in New York then…his stomach gave a funny jolt. That was the day after his birthday – the same day as the weasel attack. It had happened right after school, around three o'clock. There had been four weasels.

This was a map of all the weasel sightings.

There were so many, way more than he had known about at least. He looked closer – the cluster around Toontown was mainly on the outskirts, with a couple lingering around McKay, Slappy's old street. One was actually on the Warner Brother's lot. He stared at the outskirts, racking his brain for what was located there. Shoot, he knew this, but those years in New York seemed to have drained his memory.

Noticing more pages beneath this one, Wakko picked up the Los Angeles map to reveal another one, this time of the southwestern United States. There were more dots and dates; while fewer than in Toontown, there were a good number of dots in Baja, mainly Mexicali and Tijuana –

"Wakko, put those down!"

Wakko yelped in shock and jumped. The slice of pizza flew out of his hand and slapped against the refrigerator where it stuck. Scratchensniff was standing in the kitchen, holding Brain in his left hand.

"I, uh, dropped some pizza on them, sorry," Wakko mumbled, gesturing to the papers.

"Give those here now, those are very private, no need for your eyes to be seeing them," Scratchensniff said hurriedly. Red-faced and looking incredibly flustered he tugged the papers from Wakko's hands. Brain simply scowled imperiously down at him.

"Ah, why don't you go and read a nice book," Scratchensniff suggested.

"Don't have any," Wakko replied.

"Oh, well, you should go, ehm, play with your sister."

"No way."

Scratchensniff made a wild movement, as if he was trying to grab at his hair but realized he had none. "Okay, fine, why don't you…why don't you sit on the floor, yah?"

With that he and Brain bustled out of the kitchen and into the study, shutting the door behind them. Wakko waited a few moments before quietly tip-toeing to the study. Laying an ear against the door, he held his breath and listened.

"…hope he did not read too much, it would be troubling for him to know they were found in the tower as well…" came Scratchensniff's muffled voice through the door. Wakko's eyes widened. That explained the dot on the Warner Brother's lot…

"I sincerely hope he doesn't hear too much either," came Brain's drawling tone, "considering that his shadow indicates he is eavesdropping through the door."

Wakko gulped as he heard Scratchensniff yelp, "Wha – Wakko! What did I say? Please, go play a silly game or something, just please give us some privacy!"

With a frustrated groan Wakko pushed away from the door and returned to the kitchen. Figures…Yakko thought he couldn't handle staying home alone, Scratchensniff thought he couldn't handle learning about the weasels. No one thought he could do anything. The least Scratchensniff could do was let him listen in; after all, he'd gone head to head with the weasels, wouldn't he have something useful to add?

He clenched his fists, filling up with anger and not knowing where to go with it. This was happening more and more lately. He would get so frustrated, so fed up, until he was about to explode, but what to do, where to go? Sometimes it ended in screaming matches with Dot. Other times he'd toon sprint around the block, but he couldn't because of his stupid arm. For now, he'd just have to go back to shooting zombies, because there was simply nothing else he could do.

Dot glanced up at Skippy as they strolled beneath the streetlamps to Buster's house. He was easily as tall as Wakko, but he had that lean and gangly look that Yakko had once sported but had fortunately grown out of. He was definitely taller than Razzy, and he didn't put any of that gross gel stuff in his hair like Razzy did. Dot hated that – it made Razzy's hair look like plastic and stiff to the touch. Skippy's hair, still a warm, chocolate brown, looked soft and clean. Just then Skippy glanced at her, they met eyes, and Dot quickly looked away, blushing. God, why did she feel so awkward around him? She had never felt this way with Skippy before. Their friendship had always been so easy, so natural. What was wrong with her?

"Is this Buster's?" Skippy asked, and Dot jumped.

"Oh, uh, yeah," she stuttered.

For a moment they both stared at the house, and suddenly Dot was very aware of the fact that Skippy was standing barely inches from her.

"Um, thanks for walking me back," Dot said quietly. She felt her face grow hot as Skippy turned towards her. She didn't look at him.

"I'm glad you're back, Dot," Skippy said, and Dot looked up abruptly.

His face was very close to hers. He was looking at her, his gaze steady, and suddenly Dot's mouth was very dry. Her brain was buzzing, her tail was shaking, she was blushing so heavily that Skippy must feel the heat radiating off of her even if he couldn't see it in the darkness. Suddenly they both seemed to realize that they were just staring at each other; Skippy visibly panicked, and Dot's mouth felt weirdly dry –

"Buster so help me if you throw up again I'm going to stick my mallet up your nose."

"Crap, Yakko!" Dot yelped. Without thinking she tackled Skippy into the bushes and out of sight. They crashed through the twigs and rolled onto the ground. Dot held her body still, barely breathing, and peered through the branches. Yakko and Babs were coming from the opposite direction, marching awkwardly with Buster slumped between them. They turned the corner onto Buster's property and half carried, half dragged him up to the steps of the porch. Tossing Buster into Yakko's arms, Babs reached in her hammerspace for her keys.

"Damn it, I have to get back inside," Dot hissed. A second later she realized that Skippy was beneath her, she was practically pinning him to the ground. Skippy blinked up at her, silent. She backed off of him quickly, blushing as she did so.

"I'll cover for you," Skippy said, pushing himself up.

"But Skip, are you sure you're gonna be okay by yourself?" Dot asked.

"Nutsy's house is just down the street," Skippy reasoned, "so hurry up, before Yakko sees!"

"Thanks Skip!" she said, and, again without thought, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. She pulled back, and they both looked at each other strangely. Feeling her face begin to heat up, she blurted, "Uh, bye!"

"Dot – " she heard him call, but she ignored him and dashed for the closest window. She had to get back in without Yakko noticing, and before he noticed that she had been missing in the first place. There was a window against the far back corner of the house, and she prayed that Buster was lax about security. Her prayers were answered: the window slid easily up, and Dot hoisted herself up and onto the frame. She had one foot inside the study when she looked up and locked eyes with Wakko. He was holding a stack of papers in his hands.

They both regarded each other like deer caught in the headlights for a full second before Wakko hurriedly tossed the papers onto a desk and Dot clambered the rest of the way in and shut the window behind her. She glanced outside, spotting Skippy's dark figure dashing down the street. She whirled around.

"You're so busted!" they said in unison, pointing at each other.

Dot crossed her arms. "Whaddaya mean busted? I didn't do anything!"

"What are you talking about? You snuck out!" Wakko retorted.

"Prove it," Dot countered.

"I just saw you sneak back in!" Wakko replied incredulously.

Dot regarded him coolly. "Prove. It."

"Don't have to," Wakko said with a shrug, "I might just happen to mention it to Yakko, sounds like he just got home. You know how he gets…"

As Wakko turned theatrically to go to the foyer, Dot hissed, "You do and I'll tell him you were looking at those papers."

Wakko spun around, angry, but quickly tried to mask it. "Fine. Go ahead. I don't care," he said in an effort to be flippant.

"Fine, I will," Dot trilled as she brushed past him.

Wakko grabbed her by the tail and dragged her back. "You don't even know what they are!" he snapped.

"I know they're something you shouldn't be looking at or else you wouldn't be stopping me," Dot said, smirking as she called his bluff.

They glared at each other, waiting for the other to blink. When neither did, Dot inhaled through her nostrils before saying, "I won't tell Yakko you were looking at…whatever those were if you don't say a single word about me leaving the house. Deal?"

Wakko deepened his glare as he appeared to weigh his options. "Whatever," he muttered, and just then Scratchensniff appeared in the door. Brain was sitting on top of his bald head, his arms crossed.

"What are you kidses doing in here?" Scratchensniff asked suspiciously.

"Nothing," Dot and Wakko said in unison. They quickly slipped past him, but Dot noticed Scratchensniff scooping up Wakko's pile of papers as they left. Frowning, she headed to the foyer where Yakko and Babs were talking. Yakko looked up when they entered, looking cross.

"What are you two doing up? It's almost one in the morning," he said.

"Why don't you blame our babysitter?" Wakko asked snidely.

Yakko rolled his eyes. "Go to your room," he muttered, but Wakko was already halfway up the stairs. Dot made for the stairs as well, making a show of stretching her arms and yawning.

"I'm beat, I think I'll hit the hay too," she said through a fake yawn.

She had almost made it past him when she heard Yakko's slow drawl.

"Doooot…"

"Yeeees?" she asked, matching his tone.

Yakko's eyes bored into her. "Why is there a twig in your hair?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Dot's hand shot up to her hair. Crap. He was right.

"It's, uh, it's the style," Dot made up wildly, trying to make it sound confident, "You know, earthy. Bohemian."

Just when Dot thought Yakko's eyebrow couldn't go any higher, it raised an inch. "Oh, is that what they're calling 'trying to pull a fast one on your brother' nowadays?"

"Uh…" Dot began, but was cut short by a monstrous crash from upstairs. Both Yakko and Babs looked up as though they could see what had happened through the ceiling.

"That's probably Buster," Babs said wearily, "he pulls the weirdest crap out of his hammerspace when he's drunk. Last week there was a water buffalo in the living room when I woke up."

"I'll go check on him, I've always liked going to the zoo – " Yakko started, but Babs held up a hand.

"Forget it, he's my problem. Besides, I was a girl scout, I got my animal and plant merit badge," she said as she headed up the stairs.

"Aw c'mon, let me, I've never seen a water buffalo before!" Yakko protested.

Laughing and shaking her head, Babs continued up the stairs and to Buster's room. Dot watched as Yakko's eyes followed her all the way up until she was out of sight. This time it was Dot's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"And how was your night, Flirty McFlirt?" Dot asked.

Yakko, who seemed to have forgotten she was there, turned to face her so fast she thought he shapeshifted. "Exsqueeze me? What are you talking about?"

"I've never seen a water buffalo before!" Dot teased in her best Yakko imitation.

"Oh ha ha," Yakko said dryly as she broke into giggles, "I know you're running on a tank full of teenage girl at the moment but that was not flirting. I thought I taught you better than that."

"Funny, I don't remember any flirting lessons," Dot said as she too began to ascend the stairs, "but I do remember the one where you taught me how to never speak to boys until I'm thirty."

"Then you learned well!" she heard Yakko call as she walked into her room. Shutting the door behind her, Dot tossed the twig out of her hair and flopped down onto the bed. She was glad to lay down, since her head was still spinning from her encounter with Skippy. She wasn't quite sure what had just happened…why did she feel so weird around him now? At first she thought it was because she didn't know how to act around his grief, but now she wasn't so sure.

Dot rolled over and groaned into her pillow. She was going to turn fourteen in two months – thirteen was already hard enough.

It seemed like the more tired he was, the more difficult it was for him to fall asleep. Yakko felt exhaustion down to his bones, but his mind couldn't stop buzzing, the thoughts wouldn't stop running. Sometimes his brain was just so loud, teeming with chaos and anxiety and desires, that he often wondered if, in these small moments in the night, that he wasn't just as crazy as his TV show had purported him to be. Was he mad? Or did he just want someone to talk to? Sometimes he wished his brain would just shut off.

Tonight Yakko wouldn't be so lucky. It wasn't long before he was pushing himself out of bed and carefully tiptoeing past Wakko. Not like it mattered; the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade wouldn't wake his brother up. From what Yakko could see in the dim dawn light, Wakko was sprawled out across his bed, face down, with his tongue peeking out from beneath his head.

He crept downstairs and out the door, embracing the fact that sun still had yet to rise. It wasn't often that it was dark and quiet in Toontown, and when it was it was something to be enjoyed. So Yakko walked, not knowing where his feet would take him, but not really caring either. It felt good to move, as though his body could be slightly on pace with his brain. If it wasn't the image of Max's sneering face being broadcast across his mind, then it was Buster slumped over and muttering incoherently that consumed his thoughts. This was interspersed with Minerva's knee touching his or that time Babs laughed at his joke. These thoughts were all overseen by his ever-present anxiety over Wakko and Dot – if they had adjusted from the weasel attack, if they resented him for another move, if he had somehow screwed them up for life.

Yakko hadn't told them that the police had questioned him. He certainly hadn't mentioned to them that Max had reinforced the rumor that they were suspects. It was stressing him out so much that he kept forgetting he was actually innocent. Though despite how badly he wanted to convince himself to forget about it – after all, he had nothing to hide – he couldn't get what Max said out of his mind. And really, who had killed the weasels anyway? Even though they had attacked him and his siblings, it still bothered him. Was it an inmate? A jail guard? Someone from the outside? It was all so strange…they were singled out, attacked…and their attackers were dead the next day…

He didn't have any enemies as far as he was aware of. The closest thing he had to one would have to be Max; ever since the day they met he and Max had never gotten along. Word had already spread about the fact that the Warners were orphans before their first class at WB Tooniversity, and Max took it upon himself to ridicule them for it. Yakko, who would rather be run over by a truck before he let some spoiled brat pick on his siblings, had no problem giving the boy a piece of his mind, thus giving life to a years-long feud that showed no signs of ending. Fortunately Yakko had Buster on his side; Buster despised Max even more than Yakko if that was possible, and Yakko had lost count of how many times arguments had descended into tossed pies and sticks of dynamite, dropped anvils, violent shapeshifting maneuvers and nasty mallets to the face.

Max did seem to have it in his head that Yakko had something to do with his lost ToonGO bid, albeit rather inexplicably. It was possible that his twisted little mind would seek revenge, but sending those weasels after them? That was a bit extreme. And it was hard to imagine Max, who paid someone to take out his trash, getting his hands dirty by killing them afterwards. But, then again, if he was willing to pay someone to take out his trash, what was stopping him from hiring someone to do his dirty work?

With this troubling thought in mind Yakko noticed that his feet had taken him to a very large gate. Looking up, he realized that he had walked all the way to the Warner Brothers lot. It looked very still and quiet. Without really thinking about Yakko followed the large security wall for a block to the left and cleared aside a clump of bushes. He smiled; even in the years he had been gone, no one had sealed up the five missing bricks at the bottom of the wall – just big enough for a lean toon to shapeshift through.

Lowering himself to his stomach, Yakko shimmied like a worm through the small hole, letting his body go soft as he did so. He and Buster had used this little secret to sneak in and out of the lot for years, so much so that the movement felt natural to him. Placing his hands on either side of the wall he hefted himself through the end of the hole and into the lot and let his body go solid again. Yakko got to his feet and dusted off his pants, glancing around the lot. The morning sun was beginning to peak over the horizon, dipping the lot in a pale pink light. It highlighted the steel beams of the water tower and reflected sharply off the glass panes of Plotz's office building. Everything seemed so peaceful and innocent that it made Yakko and all the confusing and disconcerting thoughts in his head feel completely out of place. He just wanted to wipe it all clean, forget about it, run away from it…isn't that why he'd come back here anyway?

Run away…

Yakko gazed at the open stretch of lot before him. There was no one around, he could do whatever he wanted…

Sucking in a deep breath, Yakko bounced on his toes a few times before taking off at a run. With barely the slightest urge of will his legs became a blur of speed as he broke into a toon sprint. God, he hadn't done this in so long. The wind whipped his hair and ears in a frenzy and the buildings hurtled by him, nothing more than flickers of existence. He could hear nothing but the wind in his ears and the steady huff and puff of breath through his mouth. No one to bother him, no one could touch him. No responsibilities, no worries. It was glorious, he felt light as a feather. He was free.

A gray blur flew past him at such a speed it knocked him off balance. His heart jumping into his throat, Yakko staggered and dug his heels into the ground. He skid across the earth, tearing up bits of gravel as he slid to a stop.

"What the hell…" he panted, his chest heaving up and down. What could have possibly outstripped him? For a wild moment he had thought it was a weasel, but he didn't see any sign of one. Holding a wary hand over his hammerspace, Yakko's eyes darted around the lot, searching for whoever, or whatever, it was.

"Relax doc, I'm just an old rabbit."

Yakko felt his hand drop limply to his side as Bugs Bunny approached him. He was wearing a simple sweatshirt and a pair of jogging shorts.

"Nice morning, ain't it?" he commented as though he and Yakko routinely ran into each other at dawn on the lot.

Yakko stared at him, dumbfounded.

"I always go for a quick jog in the mornings. Helps me clear my head. Besides, drawn or not, toon's gotta keep in shape," Bugs continued, "I was watching ya run, doc. You're quick, but a toon like you could go a lot faster if you wanted to."

As he slowly got over the shock of running into Bugs Bunny, Yakko remembered that this was the same guy who had shot him down months earlier. He had treated him like a child, and even though a part of him still worshiped the toon legend, Yakko suddenly found that he wasn't really in the mood for a conversation.

"Well I'm sorry my abilities aren't up to your standards," Yakko said flatly, "us Broadway types just can't seem to find the time to take a leisurely jog every morning."

Bracing himself for a nasty retort or even a nice middle finger, Yakko was surprised when Bugs smirked guiltily and sighed, "I guess I had that comin', didn't I?"

Yakko paused for a minute. Eyeing Bugs closely he finally said, "Yeah, I'd say so."

"I'm not tryin' to jump ya mac, you don't have to look at me that way," Bugs said, "though I can understand why ya'd be lookin' over your shoulder. I heard about what happened in New York. How are the kids?"

"They're fine," Yakko said slowly.

"And you?"

"Fine."

The light was getting stronger and Yakko could see Bugs more clearly. Unsurprisingly he hadn't aged a single day. He looked just as he did in his cartoons, and Yakko had seen them all. For a moment Yakko imagined what it would be like if he never aged another day, if he stayed like this forever. Nineteen-years-old, for the rest of eternity.

"Look, kid," Bugs started, "I want to, eh, apologize for how I was to you at that meeting a while back. Ya know, brushing you off, acting like a stuck up celebrity and all that jazz. You deserve a lot more credit that I gave ya that night. You've got a good head on your shoulders from what I've heard…smart, responsible…you raised that brother and sister of yours, right?"

"I – yeah, sort of," Yakko spluttered. Had he just been apologized to by Bugs Bunny?

"Impressive doc, had quite a few friends tell me they were excellent students. Speakin' a which, so were you…one of the best students that ever set foot in that tooniversity. Natural talent and all that. You graduated top of your class?"

"I...yeah," Yakko answered. He wished he had something more interesting to add.

"And to think they never taught ya to sprint correctly," Bugs murmured, glancing at Yakko from the corner of his eye.

"I can sprint fine. I'll show you right now in fact, you can watch as I sprint away from here," Yakko said defensively.

"Yeah, well that 'fine' sprint a' yours still got you outstripped by a seventy-five-year-old," Bugs retorted.

"Teach me then," Yakko challenged. Lack of sleep must be making him bold.

"I'm a busy toon doc. There's plenty on this lot who'll teach ya to toon sprint."

"I can toon sprint. But according to you I can do it faster. Unless, like tooniversity, you can't teach me to sprint correctly either," Yakko drawled.

Bugs pulled a carrot from behind his back and took a bite. Munching on it noisily, he asked, "Manipulative little bugger, ain't ya? You want toon sprint tips that bad?" Bugs asked, giving Yakko an appraising look.

"Yes. The lot crew's going to be in at six, you can show me now before they show up."

Bugs' eyes narrowed shrewdly as he rolled his carrot between his fingers. "Not jokin' around, huh?"

"Nope."

"Not gonna let me leave 'til I do what ya want?"

"You got it."

Bugs sighed. "Fine. Pay attention though, I'm only gonna say things once."

Yakko nodded quickly. "That's fine, I'm only gonna listen once."

Bugs shot him a look before tossing the stump of his carrot over his shoulder. Bugs steepled his fingers together and pointed them at Yakko. "Okay wiseguy, I'm gonna give you a laughably brief rundown of the most important idea in toon physics. Books have been written about it, scholars have devoted their lives to studying it, and tooniversities almost never teach it. They think it's above kids' heads. I find that to be total malarkey, but I ain't exactly head of the school board. Plotz and I have had a couple of nice chats about it though..."

"What is it?" Yakko asked, his ears perked forward eagerly.

Bugs smirked. "Huh, didn't know there were kids out there who still wanted to learn...okay, you want to know the key to everything toon? It's a little thing called control."

Yakko frowned. "That was anti-climactic."

"You say that now. Wait til it changes the way you look at yourself and your abilities."

"Enlighten me then."

"Well aren't you a pushy thing?" Bugs muttered, "Think about it. People think being a toon is all about being crazy, wild, pulling props outta your hammerspace like an assembly line and malleting everything in sight. Couldn't be farther from the truth. You can get by like that – and believe me, toons have – but you'll never be considered great. You'll be good, at best, just mediocre. A great toon knows his limits, knows how to control his every action while still allowing it to flow and be organic."

"Sounds like an oxymoron," Yakko commented.

"At first, but think about it...pull something out of your hammerspace. Anything," Bugs said, nodding toward him.

Yakko raised his eyebrows but obeyed. He slid a paddle ball from behind his back and placed it in Bugs' outstretched hand.

"Excellent," Bugs said as he examined it briefly, "what went through your mind when you took this out?"

"Well, not much, to be honest," Yakko said, "I've pulled them so many times, but I guess the first thing I think of is that I want it to bounce."

Bugs nodded encouragingly. "That right there – that's an example of control. You know what you want it to do: you want it to bounce. But how much to you want it to bounce? Do you want just the ball to bounce, or the whole paddle? What shape do you want the paddle to be? How long should the string be? What do you think I should feel when I take it from you? These are all things that go through your mind in less than half a second because all I asked you to do is pull something out of your hammerspace. But still, you were controlling what came out of there. And those decisions are where the organic element comes in."

Yakko, who had long forgotten to be hostile, was raptly attentive.

"Think about what happens when you pull something out of your hammerspace. You are creating something out of nothing. You are reaching into this void with nothing but your mind, and returning with something wonderful and tangible and, for all intents and purposes, real. It's animation at its finest: the illusion of life. Now, you could just reach behind your back like a maniac and pull any random tchotchke outta there, or you could control that paddle ball a' yours down to the woodgrain. Ya followin' me?"

Yakko nodded rapidly and Bugs continued.

"So that brings us to toon sprinting. Now, I ain't much of a gambler, but I'd be willin' to be that you just took off running and let muscle memory do most of the leg work - eh, no pun intended."

"Yeah, but I learned how to sprint years ago, it's not something I really have to think about," Yakko said.

"Hence why you run the way you do: fast, but not fast enough," Bugs stated, smirking with one corner of his mouth.

Yakko rolled his eyes and retorted dryly, "I forget, can you run faster than me? I don't think you reminded me enough times."

Bugs eyed him wryly. "Think of it as a motivational tool."

"I'm thinking about it with a lot less of a positive spin right now."

"Let's keep it G rated for right now doc," Bugs said, grinning wide enough to show his teeth, "Anyway...like anything in toon physics, toon sprinting is one part physical control and one part mental control. We'll start with the physical. First of all, you're breathing all wrong." He stepped forward and knocked on Yakko's breastbone with his fist. "That's pretty solid there, doc. Your lungs can only take in so much air before your own bones stop them. More air means more oxygen in your ink, which means a faster sprint for you. Now, human athletes take care of this by inhaling with their stomach. But toons have other options. When you sprint you want to loosen up your chest – not quite shapeshift, but let your ribs go soft enough for your lungs to expand. Try it."

Bugs straightened up and gestured to his chest, which was rising up and down in big puffs. Concentrating, Yakko let his bones go soft, rib by rib, and inhaled. His chest blossomed out and he took in a dizzying amount of air. It felt good.

"It's gonna take practice, it ain't natural for most toons, but you'll get used to it." He eyed Yakko with an appraising look and said, "Ergo, we're going to practice. We'll do it now before security has a fit. Follow me, and breath with your chest the way I just showed ya. Ready? Let's go!"

"Wait - " Yakko shouted, but Bugs had already taken off at a brisk run. Yakko, eyes wide, stumbled a bit as he gave chase. He caught up to Bugs and they ran side by side.

"Expand your chest kid!" Bugs instructed.

"Oh yeah," Yakko breathed, annoyed that he had forgotten so quickly. He concentrated and felt the muscles loosen in his chest and his ribs ripple into a putty-like consistency. His lungs filled with a wonderfully satisfying amount of air.

"Don't forget to run too!" Bugs called from ahead of him.

Yakko started, realizing he had been so focused on his breathing that he was lagging behind. He quickened his pace, still trying to breath the right way.

"Ain't easy, is it?" Bugs commented.

"I'm still waiting for you to tell me I need to pat my head and rub my stomach too," Yakko retorted.

"That'll be your next lesson," Bugs quipped, "So tell me, what did ya think of New York?"

"New York?" Yakko repeated. Jeez, this guy switched topics quicker than Wakko. "Well, I loved it. Broadway was great, there was so much to do…I froze my tail off in the winter though. I missed California too. Wakko and Dot were pretty much stars at JTAP, but Dot discovered boys and cell phones and I'm not exactly thrilled about it."

"Can hardly guess where she gets it from. Rumor has it you came outta the womb chasin' girls," Bugs said slyly.

Yakko shook his head. "Can't believe everything you see on TV."

"I heard plenty off camera."

Bugs picked up his pace, and Yakko matched it.

"I resent that," Yakko retorted.

Bugs smirked and replied, "I'm just yankin' your tail. They said the same thing about me in my day."

"Between that and your cross-dressing habit I bet they said a lot of things," Yakko pointed out.

Laughing, Bugs shot back, "You just don't know what real entertainment is."

"This may be true, but I do know an attractive girl when I see one and I gotta say Bugs, you need some work."

"Weren't you just trying to refute the girl chaser myths?"

"I'm just saying I have standards."

"Touché," Bugs laughed, and Yakko snickered. He followed suite as Bugs slowed to a stop, and they both took a moment to catch their breath.

"You realize you just ran around the whole south block breathin' like a champ?" Bugs asked casually.

Yakko blinked. "I…wow, I guess I did." A silly grin spread across his face. "I didn't even notice!"

"Just had to distract you, that's all. I was hopin' some chattering would take your mind off it."

"How'd you know that would work?" Yakko asked.

Bugs shrugged. "It works for me, and you kinda remind me of…well, it was a good hunch. Don't get a big head yet, that was the easy part. Gotta jump some mental barriers next."

"Sounds fun."

"Can be, if you're good at jumping," Bugs said cryptically.

"Well of course it's hard if you're gonna speak in code," Yakko joked.

Bugs pointed a finger at him. "Pay attention kid, the real instructions ain't gonna be much clearer. Now I want you to think about running. When you want to go into a sprint, what do you do?"

Yakko frowned a little. "I don't really know how to describe it, to be honest. I think about sprinting, and I know I want to sprint, and it just kind of happens."

"As base as that was, it's a better description than most toons could offer," Bugs said, "that's toon physics at its simplest. You are expressing the will to sprint. Now, you're sprinting, but ya want to go faster. Whaddaya do?"

"I…make my legs go faster," Yakko said, feeling stupid.

"Aha – that's only half the equation. You're pushing your body – that's the physical part – but you need to push your mind as well."

When Yakko didn't say anything, Bugs continued, "You have to want to run faster. More importantly, you have to see yourself running faster. Ya see, unlike humans, our imaginations really can run away with us. Long story short, ya have to trick your brain into believing you are sprinting as fast as you want to be."

"So my brain should be thinking it's doing what it's not doing," Yakko tried.

Bugs nodded. "Pretty much. You're brain's doing what the body thinks it can't do."

"So when my brain thinks it's doing what my body's not doing, then my body will do what my brain thinks it's doing?

"Exactly."

Yakko raised his eyebrows. "That conversation was almost as confusing as what we're talking about."

"And that's just the tip of the iceberg," Bugs said, "C'mon, let's practice what we preach."

The next half hour proved to be one of the most embarrassing of Yakko's life. It involved him sprinting back and forth, desperately trying to break into a speed sprint and failing completely. Most of the time he just ran stupidly. Other times he tripped. Meanwhile, Bugs was leaning against a wall and blowing a whistle when he wanted Yakko to stop or go. Yakko could feel the lack of sleep building on him, and it was all he could do to not strangle the grey rabbit in frustration. He wondered if Bugs was just trying to pull a fast one on him for personal amusement, but he decided that the "control" mumbo jumbo would be a rather elaborate lie and besides, Bugs surely had better things to do than watch him run back and forth like an idiot.

The shrill sound of Bugs' whistle brought him to a halt. He gasped for breath and Bugs joined him.

"How ya doin' kid?" Bugs asked.

"Oh, you know me, just for fun I run around the Warner movie lot," Yakko panted, "they lock me in the tower whenever I get caught."

"I see. Even so let's call it a day, you're making good progress," Bugs said.

"Doubt it, but you're the expert."

"Right, and the expert says you need a break. You look exhausted – you feelin' jetlagged or something?" Bugs asked.

"Eh, or something," Yakko said.

"C'mon, I'll take ya home," Bugs offered.

"No Bugs, really, it's fine – "

"Forget it," Bugs said dismissively, "You're living with Buster Bunny ain't ya? That's on my way. You look like you're gonna to fall asleep standing up – ya really want to argue with a stubborn rabbit?"

"You make a convincing argument," Yakko yawned, thinking of Babs and wondering if all rabbits were stubborn.

Bugs led him to the private parking lot where only the biggest stars had their names painted on the spots. As they pulled out of the lot, Yakko couldn't help but marvel at how he had suddenly gone from rarely speaking to Bugs Bunny to carpooling with him. While he still felt a bit shaky in the presence of his idol, he was finding it easier to talk to him. Bugs was a gifted conversationalist and despite how tired he was Yakko soon found himself in a rapid-fire dialogue with the veteran toon. It wasn't long, however, before Bugs pulled the conversation in a direction that Yakko had assumed he would have done a while ago.

"I've been meanin' to ask you," Bugs began, "about the weasels in Central Park. Scratchensniff gave me some details but eh, I want to hear your take on things."

Having lost track of how many times he'd told this story, Yakko had to summon the enthusiasm to recount every last detail of his own experience and what his siblings had told him of their own. He told Bugs everything, down to their plastic-wrapped feet and their cries of "mo" and "bo."

"And the weirdest part was all the ink," Yakko finished, "There was ink everywhere, and I barely touched them. I mean, look at me, what could I have done to make them bleed like that?"

"I highly doubt that it was you," Bugs said, staring ahead as he drove. "The only time I've heard of a toon hemorrhaging like that is when they've been scribbled."

"Scribbled?" Yakko repeated.

"It's when the artist – if you can even call them that – who draws them screws up," Bugs said, "Basically if anyone but a trained professional tries to draw a toon, it ain't gonna have a happy ending. I'm talkin' limbs bending the wrong way, organ systems not workin' the way they should, ink running all over the place…it's just a mess. They usally don't make for the most mentally stable toons either. It's incredibly illegal to draw a toon without a license, of course – but the one who do it are usually in it for somethin' illegal anyway."

"Do you think someone drew the weasels illegally?" Yakko asked.

"It's possible," Bugs said slowly.

"But isn't that difficult?" Yakko pressed.

"Extremely," Bugs said, "and most of the time it doesn't work at all. When it is done, it's usually by someone with underground resources. You remember Rocky and Mugsy?"

"'Rockefeller Rabbit?' 'Bugs and Thugs?'" Yakko recited, ticking the cartoons off on his fingers, "Yeah, naturally."

Bugs smirked. "Calm down fan boy. Those two funded the biggest illegal toon drawing ring to date. They pulled together their considerable resources and got the humans involved. They started off selling the illegal toons as test subjects for medical research. From there they moved onto using them as drug mules. The FBI had to orchestrate one hell of a sting operation to bring 'em down. Rocky was tossed in the slammer and he's been there ever since."

"What about Mugsy?"

"Voided himself when the feds caught up with him."

"What do you mean by voided? I think I've heard of that before, but they wouldn't talk about it in tooniversity," Yakko said.

"I can see why…well, you know that drawn toons are immortal, but that don't mean their bodies can't be wiped out," Bugs said, "If their bodies are destroyed, their soul, or whatever you choose to call it, goes into the Void. It's like a limbo. After all, there's always that slim chance their original artist can draw them again, so their souls have a place to wait."

"How did he void himself?" Yakko asked, morbid curiosity taking over him.

"Drank half a gallon of paint thinner."

"Damn, that'll do it," Yakko muttered, grimacing.

"It's impressive, really. Most toons don't get past the first pint."

"How have I never heard about all this before?"

"Well for starters it happened before you were even born," Bugs said as he slowed to a stop in front of Buster's house. He turned to face Yakko. "But mostly it's because the FBI and Toontown have done everything they can to cover it up. They don't want people to know any details about how to run an almost perfect counterfeit toon operation – don't want any repeat attempts."

Gazing at Buster's red brick home, Yakko recognized his cue to get out of the car. He couldn't help but feel disappointed – he wanted to hear more.

"Thanks for the ride back, I appreciate it," Yakko said as he stepped out of the car.

"Don't mention it kid."

"Thanks for the sprinting tips too," Yakko added, "Maybe if I pretend I'm running away from Plotz I'll hit top speed."

Bugs snorted. "Hey, whatever works." He paused for a beat and scratched his ear. He looked uncomfortable; it was an odd demeanor for Bugs, most likely because Yakko had never seen him that way. With what appeared to be some level of difficulty, Bugs said, "You know if you got more questions, you can always look me up on the lot."

Yakko pulled back, not sure if he had heard correctly. "You wouldn't mind?"

"Think I'd offer if I did?"

"Good point."

Buster's front door opened, and Babs' head peeked out. "I thought that was your car!" she called to Bugs.

"Hey there Babs, how's it going?" Bugs called back, waving and grinning.

"Not bad, I've got myself three new roommates," Babs said. Her eyes flicked from Bugs to Yakko. A wicked grin spread across her face and she shouted, "Hey Bugs, did you ask Yakko about whose face is on his underwear?"

Yakko gave her the darkest glare he could muster.