Abduction

By Nicole

"But when you kill someone by chopping off their head, rolling them up in a carpet, and burning it, you'd better make sure they're dead." Colin Mochrie advised from the television. Nicole laughed out loud, slapping her thigh. The bowl of black cherry Jello perched next to her tumbled to the carpet.

"Shit!" Nicole snapped, pressing "pause" on her VCR. "Thank God for VHS," she mumbled as she ran to the kitchen. There was a sharp crackle in the air outside, and she spun automatically to the window, her face lit up by the bolt of lightning. I hope Mom and Dad get home soon, she thought. This is kind of creepy. She pulled the carpet cleaner from under the kitchen sink, and began to work on the stain. She looked up at the TV; screen still frozen on Colin Mochrie's concerned face, and the slightly goofy expression of his best friend and partner, Ryan Stiles. "Oh, no, it's 6:30! I told Emily we would chat then!" Abandoning the mess, she flicked off the television, and went into the computer room.

She sat down at the computer, and waited for it to boot up. After the familiar chimes of Windows rang, she double-clicked for AOL. Nicole tapped her foot impatiently as she waited.

"Welcome!" said the bland male voice. "You've got mail!" Nicole scowled at the monitor, with which she had a tumultuous relationship.

"And fuck you, Zeke!" That was the nickname she had given the voice. Lightning crashed again. Nicole glanced at her buddy list, and sent an Instant Message to DMBPooky. "Hi, my fine, fly chica." she typed as Psychotique12.

"Hi!" came the response. "You're late!"

"Yeah, sorry. I was watching WL, and I spilled my Jello..."

"Black cherry?" Emily asked.

"What else?" Nicole responded, adding a little smiley.:)

"Hey, I saw on the news that it was raining really hard in California. Should you be on the computer?"

"Hmmmm....I didn't think about that..."

"Don't want you to get electrocuted, or anything."

"Well, that's nice." Nicole smiled as she typed. "Pulling a permanent Colin..."

"The Dinettes would miss you, I'm sure."

"Speaking of...you Slatterettes ripped our name off! Grrrr..."

"Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery." Nicole prepared to type a witty response, when she heard a crash outside.

"The hell..." she whispered aloud. "Emily, I just heard something outside..."

"Are you home alone?"

"Yeah...it was like a crash..." Nicole glanced outside nervously. "BRB."

"No, don't! Are you nuts?" Nicole ignored the chime of the message, and wandered outside.

The rain was coming down in relentless sheets of icy water. She shivered, and huddled down in her thin sweatshirt, looking down at her stocking feet in dismay. Sighing, she trudged through freezing puddles, around the corner of the house. Her eyes were squinted to deal with the almost pitch-black as she investigated. Suddenly, a small, powerfully built man flew at her and she didn't even have time to shriek as he shoved a gag in her mouth.

***

" Nicole...are you there?" Emily typed uneasily. "Hello..." She fought back a thought that something horrible had happened. I'm overreacting, she thought.

"Well, it's late. I've gotta go. Email me, all right?" Without waiting for a response, Emily signed out of AOL.

She glanced at the wallpaper for her desktop with a smile. Photos of British improviser Tony Slattery covered the background. He was a short man, with a mischievous smirk and thick chestnut hair that fell across his forehead rakishly. His warm brown eyes glowed impishly. Emily couldn't help but smile back at the picture. She could just hear his delightfully soft voice singing about his undying love for an inflatable pig. As always, Emily wondered why this brilliant comedian hadn't gone on to the American version of Whose Line Is It Anyway?

***

The next day Emily woke with a funny feeling in her chest, an indescribable foreboding. She checked her e-mail as soon as she got up, and was disappointed to see nothing from Nicole. She noticed, however, an unfamiliar address. A piece of mail entitled "Important" from ynyimprover@yahoo.com. She opened it curiously.

Emily,

This is really important. I've been kidnapped, but I can't tell you by whom. He said I could choose one person to correspond with via email. If you're wondering why I'm contacting you as opposed to my mother, it's because this is a Whoser thing, and only a Whoser could help me now. I can't tell you more than that. He said we were playing a game, and "It's of course not 'Secret.'" He wants to see if I can be retrieved in time...If you could email my dad and tell him I'm safe, I would be very grateful. (waverider910@yahoo.com) Please, help...

Nicole

Emily stared at the message. She had no proof that the story was true, or that it was even Nicole. And if it was, well, Nicole was weird, and had been known to pull strange stunts. But the note was missing Nicole's usual sarcastic tone, and had a pleading, desperate sound. She frowned, and went to "Locate AOL member online" and typed in Psychotique12.

"Member is not currently signed on...well, of course she's not. It's not even nine o'clock in California." she thought out loud. Despite that, she moved her mouse till the pointer was on "Write Mail." "I don't know why I'm doing this..." she mumbled, but began an e-mail to Nicole's father. She explained the situation, and asked if Nicole was around. Gritting her teeth, she clicked "Send."

Emily sighed as she sat back in her chair. It sounded like Nicole was claiming to have been kidnapped by one of the performers on Whose Line Is It Anyway? They had played a game like that before, with the (nearly) universally despised John Sessions as their bad guy. It hadn't started so suddenly then, though. But that didn't mean Nicole had gotten a whim...

"Like I said, she's weird." Emily frowned. "Why do I keep talking to myself?" She paused. "Now I expect someone to answer. "

***

"You've got mail." Emily eagerly opened her mailbox, and swallowed when she saw the message from waverider910@yahoo.com. She read the message, and sighed as Nicole's father explained that his daughter was in fact, missing, and if she had any information could she please contact the police. Emily groaned softly, and sent an e-ail back with her phone number. Then she saw her next piece of mail, from ynyimprover@yahoo.com.

Emily,

I'm still okay; so don't let my parents worry. I assume the police have been called in? I don't think they'll figure it out. I can't say anything specific, you know...He monitors it, but he's very nice to me. Except I don't think he'll ever let me go... Well, I have to split. Take care.

Nicole

Emily thought for a second. Nicole was trying to tell her something... and why was she insisting it was Whoser related? She decided it wouldn't hurt to get some input from people who knew WLiiA? even better than she did. Remembering the newly changed URL, she went to www.colin.mochrie.com, to the message board of Nicole's favorite WL player, the fan-friendly Colin Mochrie. Nicole spent a lot of time there, and was well known. She explained the situation, and posted the emails that Nicole had sent. She asked for help interpreting them, and for any advice. Her telephone then rang, and she picked it up.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Is this Emily, the person that the missing young woman has been in contact with?" asked a deep voice.

"Yes, it is. May I help you?"

"Detective John Larroquette, ma'am, of the San Diego Police Department. We'd like you to come out to California to help us with the investigation."

"Oh, my God..." Emily trailed off.

"May I speak with your parent or legal guardian?" Larroquette asked.

"Y-yeah...hold on..."

***

Emily was interrogated as they drove from the airport. She told Detective Larroquette everything she knew.

"Now, she's emailing you regularly?" he asked. She nodded. "We'll get one of the tech boys on tracing the address, pronto. What is it?"

"ynyimprover@yahoo.com." she told him carefully.

"Does that mean anything to you?" he asked. Emily hesitated.

"Well, it might, at least the improver part. As in improvisational comedy."

"What makes you think it's not improover, as in improvement?"

"Because both Nicole and I are involved in... I guess you could say a cult following of the improv show Whose Line Is It Anyway? We are known as the Whosers, or more specifically, I am a Slatterette, which is a fan of Tony Slattery, and Nicole is a Dinette, which is a follower of Colin Mochrie. She mentions it being something only a Whoser could understand, and mentions a game played on the show, 'Secret.'" Emily explained. Larroquette rubbed his eyes.

"And this is predominantly an Internet following?" Emily nodded. " So we're looking for a guy involved in this." Emily frowned.

"Maybe..." Larroquette handed her a laptop.

"Here. You use AOL? You can check your email." Emily signed on, looking through her new messages. There was one from Nicole, and one very surprising one.

"Colin Mochrie..." Emily whispered. She opened that first; dying to know what Colin had to say.

Dear Emily,

I was extremely disturbed to read your post on Nicole's disappearance. I also read you are coming out to California. Since Nicole has always been a huge supporter of mine, I feel it is my duty to assist in anyway possible, even if just to offer my condolences to the family. Also... I noticed you mentioned that there seemed to be Whose Line? references in the emails, and upon reading them, I am forced to concur. I feel extraordinarily guilty, and I have to help. Please, email me when you get to California.

Sincerely,

Colin Mochrie

Emily quickly responded, telling Colin where she would be staying and thanking him for his support. Then she clicked on the one from Nicole, ignoring her feeling of trepidation. It was a short message, curt and slightly desperate. Nicole was again subtly hinting at something, and Emily again had that awful feeling that her friend's abductor was a player they all knew, not just some crazed fan of the show. Nicole knew him, she felt, but not in person.

Emily,

I'm still quite fine, and I don't want to whine. Ha, that rhymes! Kind of like a march. I'm sure you all have the best man on the job looking for me. Don't look too far, though, as sometimes the answer is simply lying on your desktop. All that remains is for me to thank you, and say goodnight. Goodnight.

Nicole

"What do you suppose she is hinting at?" Larroquette asked. Emily frowned.

"Tony? What does Tony have to do with it?" she asked herself.

***

"Colin, it's great to meet you..." Emily said awkwardly. Colin, who had a look of extreme anxiety on his face, tried to smile. He was tall, and in his early forties, with receding fair hair and intelligent, warm brown eyes. His smile was shy but at once endearing.

"Hi, Emily, it's nice to meet you as well. Unfortunate circumstances, but..." Colin trailed off. "Let's have a look at those e-mails, shall we?" They began to read the e-mails, trying to think, but hours later had reached what amounted to an impasse.

Emily smacked her forehead with sudden realization. Colin looked at her expectantly, but her face had drained of color. She scanned the e-mails again.

"I should have figured this out already, but...it can't be, it just can't be!"

"What is it?" Colin snapped.

"Tony Slattery. She has made references to Tony in every single one of these e-mails." The words were painful for her to say. Colin drew in a sharp breath.

"Tony...why?"

"'I've gotta split?' I have had many IM conversations with Nicole, and she would never say that. It's a reference to the time Tony split has pants."

"That's very inconclusive." Colin said, looking thoughtful.

"Whine means wine, as in the drink. She mentions a march. And then the best man." Emily sang softly. "I got married yesterday, I had an awful time. I drank two bottles of crappy British wine. I'm going to leave my wife as quickly as I can because I don't like her, I like the best man."

"And..." Colin waited for her to continue.

"That was a march Tony did that I sent her. And 'the answer lying on your desktop.' I have a Tony collage as my wallpaper."

"But why the reference to 'Secret?' Tony didn't play 'Secret', that was Ryan's and my game."

"Exactly. It isn't 'Secret.' He was making a point." Colin shook his head slowly.

"Let me get this straight. You think your friend was kidnapped by Tony Slattery?" he demanded. "I know Tony. I like Tony. He doesn't go around snatching adolescent girls!"

"Colin, you have no idea how much I don't want to believe that." Emily was almost in tears. "But it is the only answer that makes sense."

***

"Great." Colin groaned as the airplane took off. "Now I'm kidnapping." Emily looked up at him.

"Is it kidnapping if I'm willing?" she asked curiously.

"Yes. If not, it should be. I bought a plane ticket for a 14-year-old girl and am taking her across the Atlantic Ocean without her parents' knowledge and/or consent." He looked fairly miserable. "How the hell did you talk me into this?"

"Well..." Emily frowned. "You were drunk. Does that have anything to do with it?"

"I was not drunk! I do not drink around children!" Colin exclaimed.

"No, you were loaded." Emily told him calmly. "Which is beside the point. We are going to London. We are going to Tony's house. We are going to find Nicole."

"Oh, really..." Colin mumbled. Emily said nothing, thinking that he should perhaps start drinking again. "Now, once we arrive at Tony's house, interrupt teatime, and find it devoid of missing teenage girls, what do we do next? Go calmly home, and await my arraignment?"

"Don't be so pessimistic."

"Is it really pessimistic to believe that my friend isn't a kidnapper?" Colin demanded wryly. Emily's face fell.

"I wish I could, too, Colin, but something just doesn't sit right." she told him softly, turning to gaze out the window. Fluffy layers of purple clouds are all that is visible beneath the airplane; majestic swirls illuminated by the setting sun. "I don't want this to be Tony-" She started to choke up. "I have been obsessed with him for...a long time. I don't want to think he could do this, but I have to believe this is what she's trying to say." Colin was quiet for a moment.

"Hey, come on, now." He told her gently. "It'll be okay, just wait."

"How can it possibly be okay?" she snapped. "The guy I am completely devoted to is a kidnapper!" Colin remained silent then, not knowing what to say. Looking down at his lap, he groaned when he saw his peanuts spilled on the ground.

***

"You need to wait here, just in case. If anything happens, I'll call you." Colin had given up making an attempt at propriety, and checked into a hotel. Emily nodded her assent, though the plan was half-baked.

Colin set out in the London streets, walking determinedly. He couldn't help but feel exhilarated, at last back in his favourite city. He looked up at the gray sky with satisfaction. There was a clap of thunder, and it immediately began pouring. Colin grimaced ironically. Life just wasn't treating him fairly that day. Unable to find a cab, he hurried along through the throngs of people-most lucky enough to have umbrellas. Their good fortune was far from beneficial to Colin's visual well being. As he was 6'3" in height, he was at eye level with most of the umbrellas, and they were about to poke his eyes out.

He finally caught a cab, and gave them directions to Tony's home. The last time he had spoken to Clive Anderson, the moderator had told him that Tony lived in London during the summer holiday at Dundee University, of which Tony was rector. It was June, so that was hopefully summer enough. The cabbie dropped him off at Tony's house, and sped off as soon as he was paid. Colin sighed. He had wanted the driver to wait for him outside. He had played enough games of "Narrate" to know that going into a home of a possible kidnapper all alone was not a brilliant plan. However, Colin continued, perhaps because he believed in his heart that Tony did not do anything wrong.

Running to avoid the driving rain, he took shelter under the eaves. What am I going to say? he wondered sardonically. Hey, Tony, long time no see, are you a crazed felon? Colin was a lot of things, but a coward was not one of them. He knocked resolutely. And then...he waited.

The door was flung open. A man quite a bit smaller than Colin looked up in complete shock. His thick dark hair was mussed, and his brown eyes looked desperate and weary. There were lines of pain etched on his perfectly sculpted face.

"Colin Mochrie..." Tony Slattery's voice was broken, but still lyrical. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Tony," Colin was taken aback at his old friend's haggard appearance. "I was in the area..." Tony laughed lightly, with a hint of distrust. His smile was devoid of its usual warmth.

"Colin, you old bastard, ever heard of calling first?" he asked with an edge to his voice.

"I would have, Tony, but I really didn't think I'd be here." Colin's suspicion was fully aroused. "Of course, if you are busy..."

"Yes, I'm afraid I was just about to go out." Tony said. He was an excellent actor; Colin had worked with him many times. But there was still something very unnatural in the way he was acting.

"Well, if you don't mind, before I go, I really need to use the bathroom." Colin said casually. Tony paused.

"The house is a mess." he said weakly.

"It can't be that bad. I'll be quick, I promise." Colin smiled winningly. Tony hesitated, and Colin took the opportunity to push past him into the house. He looked around. It was dark, and actually not at all messy. It was beautifully furnished, if not expensively. Tony had a rare male eye for decorating. "Tony, are you kidding? The place looks great! I can't believe this is without a woman's touch!"

"The toilet is just down the hall..." Tony said curtly. Colin thanked him, and entered the small room. His breathing quickened as he heard Tony walk away, and he slipped out, looking around. He glanced in the only closed room he found, and gasped.

A girl of about 15 was sprawled on a rumpled bed, listlessly tossing pillows at the ceiling. She looked up quickly.

"Colin!" she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. She sat up quickly. "Oh, Colin, I can't believe-"

"Quiet!" Colin hissed. "I take it you're Nicole?" She nodded, rushing towards him in awe.

"Yeah, and it's great to finally meet you-" she began.

"Hey, enough Whoser gushing, pay attention!" he snapped. "Did Tony kidnap you?"

"Well..." Nicole sighed. "Yes. He hasn't treated me badly, but..." Her voice cracked. "I want to go home..."

"Let's go, we're leaving..." Colin took her hand, and Nicole looked faint.

"No, you're not!" The lacrosse stick connected with Colin's head with a sickening crack. The man crumpled to the floor. Nicole gasped, backing away from Tony.

"Tony, what are you doing?" she cried hysterically. Tony raised the stick again menacingly. Nicole stared at him with wide eyes. His shoulders slumped, and he ran out of the room. Nicole ran to Colin, cradling his head. She smoothed his soft blonde hair, and gasped when her fingers came away red with blood. "Colin, I'm sorry," she whispered, attempting to drag his large frame on to the bed.

***

"I know Mr. Anderson is a busy man, but if you would just let me talk to him-" Emily began. The secretary sighed.

"Look, young lady, I don't have time for this. So go play your silly games elsewhere." Emily groaned as the telephone slammed down. She looked at the address in the phone book, and committed it to memory. Not caring that she was a teenage girl striking out alone in the largest metropolitan area in Europe, she charged out into the unfamiliar London streets. Using money that Colin had left in his other coat pocket (She had no pounds, and she figured Colin would owe her for the devoted fanaticism she had paid his show), she hailed a cab.

Emily walked into the BBC1 main office, not taking the time to appreciate her surroundings. She smiled at the receptionist.

"Hi, I really need to see Clive Anderson." she said pleasantly. The bored woman looked up.

"Got an appointment?" she asked blandly.

"Not exactly, but it's terribly important." The woman nodded absently, examining her fingernails with a consuming interest.

"Not without an appointment." she said without a trace of apology.

"I need to see him." There was an edge to Emily's voice.

"Look, I'm sorry, but no!"

"Just let me give him a message-" she began.

"Please, leave." The receptionist stood.

"I can't. You have no idea what is at stake here." Emily pleaded. "Two people's lives..."

"So call Scotland Yard. I don't see how Mr. Anderson can help you."

"You have to let me see him!" she shouted, finally losing her temper.

"Securi-" The woman began to call.

"I heard my name. What's the trouble?" A well dressed, balding man with a slight build walked in. He had a condescending smirk and spoke in a clipped, quick voice.

"Sorry to bother you, Mr. Anderson." The receptionist said. "This girl was just leaving."

"Clive, my name is Emily; I'm a Whoser." Emily said, grabbing Clive's arm. "This is very important. Colin Mochrie's life may be in danger." Clive looked taken aback.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded.

"Do you know where Tony Slattery lives?"

"Yes, but what is this all about?" he asked again.

"I'll explain on the way." Emily dragged the TV moderator out of the building.

***

"Stay here." Clive told Emily as they walked up to the house.

"No. I gave into Colin's chivalrous crap already. I'm coming with you." She remained at Clive's side as they went to the door. He cautiously pushed the door open.

"Tony?" he called boldly. He walked in. "Tony, are you here?" Tony suddenly appeared.

"Clive, what is going on?" he asked testily. "Who is this?" Emily had lapsed into a slack-jawed wonderment.

"Shit...I don't know what to say... Tony..." she whispered.

"This is Emily. She's quite a fan of yours." Clive explained.

"Emily...ahhh, I get it..." Tony whispered under his breath.

"Did Colin stop by earlier, by any chance?" Clive asked casually. Tony frowned slightly.

"Colin Mochrie?" he asked. "No, is he in town?" Tony laughed. "I should hope the bastard would look me up."

"Tony..." Emily was in almost a trance. "You are..." She couldn't finish. The sight of Tony was wonderful, but at the same time, horrifying. He had become a weak shadow of his former vibrant self.

"So, you are a fan of mine-"

"Tony, I have known you for a very long time, and I know you are hiding something. It has to do with Colin and that missing girl, right?" Clive cut in.

"Clive...what are you talking about?"

"Damn it, where are they?" Clive snapped. Tony sighed, stuffing his hand in his pocket.

"Well... I guess you've got me." He pulled his hand out, brandishing a small silver handgun. Clive swore under his breath, and instinctively pushed Emily behind him.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked in outrage. "Are you quite mad?"

"Perhaps I am now, Clive." Tony said in an eerily calm voice.

"Why are you doing this?" Clive was more infuriated than scared.

"Is that really important to you?" Tony asked steadily. "It doesn't seem to matter anymore."

"Stop rambling and explain yourself!"

"Oh, you're a fine one to talk!" Tony scoffed. "Besides, who has the gun? I can say what I bloody like."

"Well, what do you want to say, Tony?" Emily asked softly. "I'll listen. I've always listened to you."

"Well, thank you." Tony cleared his throat. "Yes, I kidnapped Nicole. I didn't hurt her or anything, and the only reason I did was because I was going to be in the LA area. She was the only one of those girls who post at my message board that lived around there. I knocked her out, and snuck her into my hotel. I waited until she came 'round, and then explained to her that I was taking her to London. She seemed unperturbed, and made cracks to the effect of if anyone had to kidnap her, it might as well be someone she was in love with, anyway." Tony groaned. "Obnoxious girl, isn't she? Honestly, she'll hardly shut up for a minute." Emily couldn't help but smile knowingly.

"Tony...this might be a ridiculous question, in fact, this whole thing is completely ridiculous, but why?" Clive asked.

"You are aware of the bout of depression I suffered?" Emily nodded with adoring concern.

"Yes, of course." Clive snapped.

"Well, I decided I was pretty well over that." Tony's voice was matter-of-fact. "Then one night I sat down and watched Whose Line? And I was disgusted. There is more to me than what you girls worship, you realise." His voice grew louder. "Sure, I was bouncy and naughty and cute. Debauched, even. But I was torn up inside for much of my time on the show, and no one saw that. No one knew what was going on in my soul. I was fucking tormented, but no one knew." Tony sighed. "And I automatically decided that the blame was to be laid on you and your online girlfriends. I needed to be released from the old Tony Slattery, and the way to do that was through eliminating those who held my idealized image. Such as you." He leveled the gun again.

"Tony, go ahead and shoot me." Clive said quietly. "If it will make you feel well again, shoot me. But for God's sake, two teenage girls?" Tony steely expression faltered.

"I can't shoot you, Clive, you weren't supposed to be here. Neither was Colin..." Tony looked at his firearm in disbelief. "None of this. I didn't expect any of this!"

"So just put down the gun. Tell us where Colin and Nicole are. We'll leave you be."

"And how will that change anything?" Tony spat bitterly. "Everyone will still be the same."

"Tony." Emily stepped forward, looking up at him. "You don't understand. I'll always love you for being you, no matter what you may be doing. You will always be accepted, and appreciated." Tony watched her with an unreadable expression. "But you can abduct every single Whoser alive, and you still can't kill the memories that everyone who ever saw the show will retain of you. And that isn't bad. It really is not. You make people laugh, which is one of the greatest professions a person can have." Tony's face crumpled, and he dropped the gun, turning to Clive. He began to sob painfully.

"Clive, I'm sorry..." he cried. Clive put his arms around him, and patted his back comfortingly.

"It's okay, there, there, Tony." Clive told him gently.

"Emily," Tony managed to say. "Colin and Nicole are in the only room down that hall. Take the key off of the counter."

***

"Colin, come on, take a drink." Nicole had placed a pillow under Colin's wounded head, and was holding a glass of water to his lips. His eyelids fluttered again, and he woozily muttered something. "What was that?"

"Don't play the mariachi music, Brad..." he mumbled. Nicole shrugged this off, and shook his shoulder urgently.

"Colin, wake up!" she whispered. His eyes opened, and he stared up at Nicole in dread.

"What the hell was I drinking?" he grumbled. "And who are you?" He tried to sit up, and his face drained of color. "My God...my head."

"Colin, I'm Nicole, remember?" she enunciated clearly. "You got hit over the head with a lacrosse stick..."

"Tony hit me." he said, remembering suddenly. "How long have I been out?" Nicole bit her lip in contemplation.

"About two hours. Can you tell me what's going on, please?" Colin examined Nicole. For being held hostage for a week, she looked okay. Pale, tired, and anxious, but unharmed.

"Well," he filled her in on what he knew. The look of utter adoration on the girl's face was almost too much to bear.

"You came all the way here- oh, Colin!" she exclaimed. "I can't believe..." She would have cut her own head off for him to use right then and there. Luckily, the door swung open at that instant. Emily bounded into the room. Colin groaned, laying back down.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded crossly.

"Saving your ass." she told him dryly. Nicole looked at this girl in indignant shock.

"You can't talk to him that way- wait, Emily?" she asked. The one in question nodded. 'Oh, my God!" She jumped up, and ran to her. They exchanged a tight embrace.

"Hey, are you okay?" Emily asked. Nicole nodded.

"Yeah, but what happened to Tony?" Her query was answered as he walked into the room supported by Clive. Tony rubbed his red eyes.

"Nicole, I am so terribly sorry," he began. "I don't know what to say."

"Hey, a girl needs a little adventu- Clive?" Nicole bounced to her feet. The barrister looked frightened as she advanced on him. "Clive, I think you are the-the, just...oh, my God!" Tony looked at Emily with a smile.

'I don't know how to thank you, and how to apologize, but I'll die trying." he told her sincerely. She shuddered.

"Don't talk about death, please." she said quietly.

"Right..." Tony was cut off.

"While we're on the subject of 'not-death,' anyone care to assist me in pursuing that?" Colin inquired politely from the floor. Tony stooped next to Colin.

"I'm really sorry, old chap." he said with an apologetic smile. Colin smiled back thinly.

"That is just fine, Tony. Now will someone get me some goddamn Tylenol?"

***

The police ended up not being contacted, and Tony's psychiatrist was discreetly called. He spent a few months under observation in a hospital, and was visited regularly by Clive. Well, except for one week.

"I can't believe you two talked me into coming out here." Clive groused as he walked into the ABC studio. Emily laughed.

"Clive, you were expressly invited." she told him.

"The only way Colin could get those tight asses to let us in was if we came with an adult." Nicole reminded him. "And besides, you saved my life." She smiled adoringly.

"Stop smiling at me!" he exclaimed. "Ah, Colin, how are you?"

"All right." Colin said mildly. "Clive, there's someone dying to see you." Clive looked behind Colin curiously. A familiar voice rang out.

"Oh, look who's out of work and begging for a job." Greg Proops said snidely.

"I know it's hard to get work these days as an American smart-ass." Clive retorted. The two men embraced each other tightly, and walked off, exchanging insults. Colin smiled at the two girls.

"So, you two ready for Whose Line?" he asked them knowingly.

"Colin-" Nicole grabbed him, and kissed his lips hard. Blushing fiercely, she scampered off. Colin looked around in confusion.

"Why does everyone do that?"

THE END