Note: Thanks to TigreMalabarista (MelMac) for beta’ing.

The sun shone brightly on the summer day, nicely toasting every uncovered body on the beach and out in the water.

A young man with dirty blond spiked hair sat in the sand waxing a bright red, long surf board. He watched as teens and young adults walked by, holding a sheet of paper. Those sheets of paper were his main interest: they were sign up sheets for the surfing contest that weekend.

His attention shifted. He watched one young man with brown, curly hair talk with a couple other teens. Then he spotted another young man with long, blond, straight hair chatting up a couple of young women.

The young man paused in waxing his board and gave a slight smirk. The set up was perfect.

Pam walked out the back door into the backyard. She went over and stopped next to the striped, blue surf board propped up on two saw horses. "Ralph?"

"Coming...!"

Pam turned toward the newly built shed and saw the door was open. She walked over, finding Ralph inside, seemingly digging for something. She waited a few moments, then cringed at the crash that resounded from inside the shed. She peeked around the door. "Are you okay, hon?"

Ralph gave a sheepish smile and glanced down at the pile of cans, a hose, a couple tools, and other assorted items now resting on the ground around him. "Fine." He reached over and grabbed a small can, then left the shed, stepping over the mess he made. "I found the wax."

"Ralph, I meant to ask... when was the last time you surfed? I don’t really remember you ever mentioning it." She followed him back over to where the board was set up.

"Well, I used to surf alot as a teen and then through college." He sighed. "After that, I sort of fell out of it." Ralph removed the top of the can and dipped a cloth in the wax. "Literally, I fell out of it. I wiped out pretty bad. Never found my board. All I knew was one moment, I had the wave under me, the next I’m lying on the beach with a couple paramedics and many more on-lookers around me."

"Let me get this right: Since then, you haven’t surfed since, right?" Pam asked, and he nodded. "So why the sudden interest again?"

He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a slip of paper. "This."

Pam unfolded the paper and found it to be a flyer. "Surfing contest. First place, $1,000." She glanced up at him and stated, "You knew about this before buying the board while we were at the convention."

"Yes," Ralph answered.

"I don’t know, Ralph..."

"I don’t know, either, Pamela. It’s been about ten years since I’ve been on a board. I was pretty good at it then and I’m wondering if I still have it or not. At the least, it’ll be fun and something to do for an afternoon."

"Okay, but promise me you’ll be careful out there."

"Of course, I will! Besides, I’m going to practice before the contest."

"That’s good to hear--"

"Where is everybody?" Bill’s voice suddenly resounded from inside the house. He stopped in the doorway. "There you are." He stepped out into the yard and stopped, seeing the surf board and eyed it. "What is that?"

Ralph rolled his eyes. "It’s a surf board, Bill."

"I know that, kid. What’re you doing with it?"

"Waxing it. I have to practice so I can be in that surfing contest this weekend."

Bill grinned. "Oh, yeah, that. Say, uh, Ralph..."

"No, wait, Bill, I think I know where that’s going. I’ve heard this before," Ralph interrupted, all too familiar with Bill’s ways of asking him to help out on a case. "This wouldn’t happen to be one of those cases to end all cases, would it?"

"Well, um, yeah, it might be. Really, Ralph, I’ve got the case file and I’ve gone over it, but I can’t make heads or tails of some of it," Bill admitted.

"How come?" Pam asked.

"Because the head guy is apparently a beach bum that surfs. What do I know about surfing? That’s where you come in, kid," Bill said.

Ralph rolled his eyes. "Bill, I never told you I knew anything about surfing. You were taking a mighty large gamble that I did!"

"But you do know, kid, and that’s what makes this work out so perfectly." Bill pulled a paper from an inside jacket pocket. "You got one of these yet?"

Ralph took the paper. "The flyer. Yeah, I’ve got one."

"Great, kid. Now, go grab the jammies and lets go to the beach," Bill said, with a grin.

"Wait just a minute, Bill. I wasn’t planning on wearing the suit to surf in, first of all. Second, I haven’t been on a surf board in about ten years. I need to practice," Ralph said, folding his arms over his chest.

"So practice. I’m not stoppin’ ya. Just bring the jammies and we’ll see if you come across any vibes. I’ll be in the car. Five minutes, Ralph!" Bill made his way back into the house, heading towards the front.

Ralph sighed. "Why me?"

The beige Dodge Diplomat made its way towards the beach and pulled into the parking area. The blue striped surf board was tied to the roof. All three got out of the car, Ralph now in a full-body wet suit, over the jammies.

"Okay, kids, we’ll take a look around first, vibe the place out, see what we find. Then, Ralph, you can practice your surfing," Bill said.

"Gee, thanks, Bill," Ralph replied, rolling his eyes.

Bill made a slightly irritated noise, but didn’t say anything. The trio began down the stairs, leading to the beach.

People milled about and relaxed on the beach, making it very crowded. Bill stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and moved off to one side. Pam and Ralph moved next to him.

Ralph glanced around, then turned to Bill. "Looks like a normal day out here to me."

"Looks can be deceiving. C’mon, Ralph, vibe around, see if you get anything," Bill said.

"Alright, alright." Ralph took a couple steps, then turned back to Bill. "You know, Bill, of everyone out here, you know who looks the most suspicious?"

"Who?"

"You do. Most people don’t wear a three-piece to the beach." Ralph grinned, then turned away again. He started away, hearing Bill’s sound of annoyance.

Ralph made his way towards a small building where people were going in and out every few seconds, some with boards, food, etc. or nothing at all. He moved and stood with his back to the wall of the building, then leaned back against it, folding his arms. He waited to see if a holograph would appear, but it didn’t. He shook his head and pushed off. He walked around the building to where they kept several racks of boards for rent. He went past each rack, dragging the tips of his fingers over each board. He received a few minor vibes, but nothing of any importance. This was going nowhere.

Ralph sighed and started back towards where he’d left Pam and Bill. When he rejoined them, he found that Pam had spread out a large beach towel and sat reclined on it. And he spotted Bill attempting a conversation with one of the lifeguards.

"Anything?" Pam asked.

Ralph shook his head. "Nothing. I think while Bill’s busy I’ll go grab my board and head out."

Pam nodded. "Okay, hon. Just be careful!"

"I will." Ralph leaned down and gave her a quick kiss before jogging back toward the stairs.

Ralph stepped out into the water, put the board down, then sat on it. He waited a moment, adjusting to the feeling and his positioning on the board. He was thankful for remembering to do some stretching first, before getting into the water.

Ralph began to paddle out, moving one arm in the water, then the other. He did this for approximately thirty feet before reaching a wave. He gripped the rails of the board, then slid the board through his legs and straightening out until he was lying on the board. He began to paddle again as the wave started to pick him up. As the board began to rise, Ralph concentrated on preparing to stand. He straightened his arms, then brought his legs up under his body, planting his feet on the board, his left foot forward in a natural footing. He snapped up into a crouching position and allowed a brief smile, before standing completely.

Ralph rode through the wave with no problems... then he remembered he was wearing the jammies. He moved to lie on the board again, shaking his head. He had to try without the jammies on. And that’s when he decided that on the day of the competition, he definitely would not be wearing the jammies.

Every evening that week found Ralph in the backyard again, working on his footing, getting to a standing position from both laying on the board and sitting on the board, and vice versa.

It was now the day before the contest. Ralph had the board on the ground and several hand weights scattered about, though, currently, he was using a jump rope.

Ralph worked his way through some exercises, mixed with practices in stance on the board, along with popping up and lying down, simulating the movements.

He did the workouts without the jammies, in a wet suit, exactly the way he planned to ride in the competition, as the wet suit was mandatory for it. The practices on the board were fluid, smoothly done as if he’d been riding constantly, rather than going without for ten years. Ralph had attributed it to the fact that he had been good... damn good, he’d thought. He’d only ever made one real mistake while surfing, which happened to be what made him give it up for so many years.

There was, however, something that Ralph was not aware of. He was being watched this time. A man with dirty blond, spiked hair sat in a car across the street in just the perfect angle to see the portion of the Hinkley backyard that Ralph was using. The man was impressed and also angered. With that man in the contest, he knew, that his plans would be shot out of the water, so to speak. He had to do something about him, something that couldn’t be linked directly to him, atleast until it was too late...

At his desk in the Federal Building, Bill sat, mulling over files. He had a few leads as to who was running the drug ring. Unfortunately, the time at the beach had turned up several possible matches. He glanced at one photo again, of a young man with spiked, blond hair.

Bill made a face and muttered, "Typical."

He knew something would go down the next day at the surfing competition, but he also knew he’d have Ralph there with the jammies, under the assumption that Ralph would be wearing them for the competitions. Unfortunately, Bill didn’t know about Ralph’s practices without the suit, which always came after Bill would leave, muttering something about heat stroke.

Bill put all of the papers back into the file and stood, tucking the folder under his arm. He decided to look over the files a little more once he got home.

The next day, the sun was bright and the beach was crowded. Contestants milled about, mixed with onlookers and anyone else, interested or not, also.

The surf boards of the contest entrants were lined up, being inspected by several judges. However, one of the judges, with brown curly hair, paid especial attention to a particular blue board with white and black stripes. He glanced around, palmed a small bottle he pulled out from the waistband of his shorts... and proceeded to pour it over the underside of the board. He smirked and moved on to inspecting the next board.

Meanwhile, Ralph and Pam were spreading their towels out on the sand, with a cooler off to one side and an umbrella standing behind them. True to what he’d decided, Ralph was not wearing the jammies, but they were in the station wagon. He was thankful that the wet suits were mandatory for the competition, just in case he did need the jammies.

Pam nudged Ralph and pointed as he looked up. Together, they watched Bill approach, dressed in khaki pants, Hawaiian shirt, and floppy blue hat. Ralph grinned and got up, then jogged over to meet Bill.

"Glad to see you’re not in your three-piece today, Bill," Ralph teased.

Bill made a sound of annoyance, then glanced Ralph over. "Are you wearing the jammies, kid?"

"No, they’re in the car," Ralph replied.

"Why aren’t you wearing them, Ralph?" Bill asked.

"Because that would be cheating, Bill! I can’t do that," Ralph said, as they joined Pam. "I really think I could win this on my own."

"Ralph, be serious! If you wear the jammies, you’ll win no problem and maybe even get us a lead on who the ring leader is!"

Ralph folded his arms over his chest. "I’m doing this under my own power. They’re starting up in a few minutes, so I need to get going." He leaned over and gave Pam a kiss.

"Good luck, Ralph. I’m sure you’ll do great," Pam said.

"Thank you," Ralph replied, then turned to Bill, expectantly.

"You won’t need good luck if you wear the jammies," he said.

Ralph just rolled his eyes, then turned and jogged off to where the other contestants were lining up.

"Bill, Ralph will do just fine without the suit. He knows what he’s doing," Pam said.

"He’d better," Bill griped, taking up a seat on Ralph’s towel.

Ralph waited, as patiently as he could. He was excited, ecstatic even. He couldn’t wait to get out there...

His turn came up and he jogged out to the water. Ralph put the board in the water, then sat kneeling on it and paddled out using both arms. Just as he’d practiced, he stood up in one smooth motion and rode the first wave. Now, he just needed two more. The second wave was larger, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

But the third wave proved to be the problem. Ralph lost his balance and fell into the water, still a part of the wave.

Gasps and yells rose up from the beach.

Pam and Bill stood up. "Bill, where is he?" Pam asked.

Bill shook his head. "I don’t know, Counselor, I don’t see him."

Most of the other contestants paddled out and looked around for Ralph, but all they came up with was his board. What seemed like forever, had been only about five minutes, but one of the lifeguards finally pointed out Ralph nearing the shore and called out. Two of the guards ran to meet him.

Both Pam and Bill also ran down the beach to meet Ralph, who was now being helped out of the water by the lifeguards, one holding onto him, the other walking along side. As they neared, they could see Ralph nod. The lifeguard holding onto Ralph let Bill take over. He took one of Ralph’s arms and wrapped it around his shoulders.

"Ralph, what happened? What hurts?" Pam asked.

Ralph shook his head. "I’m not sure. I just lost my balance." He grimaced as Bill set him down on the towel. "Feels like I twisted my knee." He rested a hand on the still slightly bent left knee. "And on top of that, the water was freezing!" In response, Pam draped a towel around his shoulders.

The young man with the spiked, dirty blond hair ran over to them, Ralph’s surf board under his arm. "Hey, man, sorry you got worked like that." He set the board down. "Looked like you might’ve won."

"Thanks," Ralph replied. The young man nodded and jogged off.

Bill watched him run off, then turned and crouched next to Ralph. "Kid, I think you’ve been set up. The guy’s practically on the top of my list of possible ring leaders." He took hold of the surf board and pointed at the underside of it. The finish wasn’t smooth as it should’ve been and felt rough to the touch.

Ralph ran a hand through his hair. "But why take me out, though? Unless..."

"Unless he knew how good you were and felt threatened by it. He wants to win this thing to have a good payoff," Bill said.

"He probably saw you practicing, Ralph," Pam said.

Ralph leaned back on both arms, wincing. "Well, he’s got his way, now. I can’t go back out there like this."

"What if ya put the jammies on?" Bill suggested.

Ralph bowed his head, then shook it. "It’s the only way. There’s only two rounds to the contest and if I don’t make it through the second, I can’t beat that guy."

"C’mon, up and at ‘em, Ralph. I’ll help you up to the car so you can change," Bill said, then helped him stand up.

There were still ten minutes before the second round began when Ralph and Bill returned, Ralph now had the jammies on under the wet suit. Ralph was walking better and only felt a small twinge of pain from the injury.

Ralph, newly waxed surf board tucked under an arm, rejoined the group of contestants and spoke briefly with the judges, assuring them that with his knee wrapped up, he’d be able to continue.

Several minutes passed, and the second round began. Ralph watched as the young man with the spiked hair jogged out to the water and paddled out.

Ralph focused on him as he stood up, ready to ride the first wave. The look on Ralph’s face became pure concentration, and mere seconds later, the young man fell off his board, into the water. Ralph gave a slight smirk.

He came trudging up the beach, dragging his board after him, muttering. A few other contestants then took their turns without any problems, from nature or Ralph.

Then it was Ralph’s turn again. He paddled out, glancing around the water, searching out a wave. He found one he liked and stood up. Keeping his balance, he could feel the suit working to keep him standing. Not only could he feel the difference in his knee, but he felt it all over. Though Ralph was sure the green guys had no idea what surfing is, it felt like the suit certainly did. Ralph was barely doing any of the work himself as the suit basically took over control.

He rode the waves perfectly. As he walked back up the beach afterward, he kept an eye on the young man he’d caused to wipe out.

That young man also had an eye on Ralph.

Two young men entered the makeshift office belonging to Methier, who was currently waxing a surf board. The man with the spiked blond hair glanced up at the men and stopped what he was doing.

"You wanted to see us, boss?" said the one with the curly, brown hair.

Methier glanced at him, then the one with the straight blond hair. "Jesse, Gunnar, I want the guy that won the contest taken out! That was supposed to be my win!" He slammed a fist onto his desk, which was otherwise just a normal wooden crate. "He’s too good. And I can’t make my drugs move without any money!"

"But boss, he’s already injured," Gunnar began.

"And he still won!" Tim exploded. "I want him out! Nobody shows me up and gets away with it!"

Ralph, his knee wrapped from a visit to the doctor a few hours prior, limped into his living room from the kitchen, carrying a box of tissues with him. He sat on the couch, pausing a moment. He grabbed a tissue and waited... then brought it up just in time to catch his sneeze. He blew his nose and wadded up the tissue, just as the phone rang. He got up with some trouble and crossed the room to the phone, throwing the used tissue into the garbage, just before picking up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Ralph? Hon, you don’t sound too good," Pam said.

"I must’ve picked up a cold from being dunked in the 40 degree water during the contest yesterday," Ralph said, his voice a little rough and very nasal.

"That would explain why you didn’t hear me leave this morning," Pam said.

"Yeah--" Ralph broke off, feeling a sneeze coming on. With the tissue box across the room and a not very long phone cord, he opted to put an index finger under his nose. "Sorry, fought off a sneeze."

"Listen, hon, I’ll try to wrap up work earlier than usual..."

"No, Pamela, you don’t have to do that. I’m fi--" He replaced the finger, fighting back another sneeze, "I’m fine."

"Sure, Ralph. I’ll be home in a little bit, then you can stop being Mr. Tough Guy, okay?"

Ralph gave a slight grin. "Okay. See you in a bit, then. Bye."

"Bye."

He hung up the phone, then limped back across the room. He grabbed a tissue and all but fell onto the couch and let out a sneeze. He leaned back and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Mr. Tough Guy... ha! That wasn’t what the doc thought earlier when he was checking out my knee."

A knock came at the front door and Ralph sighed. "Great." He got up and started making his way to the door, while the knocking continued. "I’m coming, I’m coming!" He shook his head. "I swear if that’s Bill with some scenario..." He opened the door. "Now, wha--" He broke off seeing two young men standing at the door. "Oh, um, sorry, uh, can I help you?"

Both men grinned. "You sure can," Jesse said, stepping forward.

"Wait a minute," Ralph began, as he moving backwards a bit, "weren’t you at the contest yesterday?"

"Yeah, we were, and that’s why we’re here now," Gunnar said, closing the front door.

Ralph backed into the wall, making a face, knowing full well that the magic jammies were currently in his closet in their box. "Wh-- How come?"

"Because you messed up big time by winning that contest," Jesse responded.

Ralph started towards the living room. "I won it fairly..." Okay, so that isn’t the whole truth, he thought.

"Our boss wants to have a talk with you," Gunnar said.

Ralph backed his way past the desk and felt the top of his briefcase at his fingertips. And he remembered he still had a stack of loose papers inside...

"You know, guys, I’d love to chat with your boss, but you see, I really don’t have the time. Matter of fact, I’m late for an appointment right now..." Ralph yanked out a handful of papers and threw them towards the men’s faces, causing them to shield themselves, effectively giving Ralph a chance to get around them.

Unfortunately, he could only manage a hobble, heading out the front door. He limped his way across the front of the house, towards the station wagon. He reached into one pocket of his jeans, then the other... and came up empty-handed. "Damn..."

"There he is!"

Ralph glanced over his shoulder and saw the two men coming after him again. He sucked in a breath and rolled over the hood of the station wagon. He nearly fell onto the grass rolling off the hood, but managed to stay upright and started towards the sidewalk, headed down the street.

The two men ran around the station wagon and caught up to him at the wooden fence between Ralph’s and the neighbor’s house. Jesse pushed Ralph against the fence, while Gunnar clamped a hand over Ralph’s mouth.

"Bad move," Gunnar sneered, then nodded to Jesse, who kicked at Ralph’s bum knee, sending him to the ground, crying out in pain.

Gunnar went to the car, parked just a few feet away and opened the back door. Jesse wrapped one of Ralph’s arms around his shoulders, making it look like he was simply helping him to the car. Ralph did his best to struggle, but wasn’t getting anywhere with only one good leg. Reaching the car, Jesse shoved him into the back of the dark blue sedan.

And at the same time, a familiar beige Dodge Diplomat came up the street. Bill saw Ralph get shoved into the back of the sedan and pulled his own car diagonally in front of the dark sedan. He swung the driver’s door open and leaned on the roof, aiming his service revolver. "Freeze it! FBI!"

The sedan’s tires squealed as it backed into the neighbor’s driveway and pulled back out. Bill barely had time to register what was happening. All he knew was that Ralph had been shoved into the back of that car. He got back into the Diplomat and started it up. He did a three-point turn on the street and started after the sedan.

But the blue sedan already had a decent head start on the Diplomat. Bill was just barely able to follow for the first couple of streets, but then lost them at a particularly busy intersection with extremely shortly timed green lights.

Bill turned the Diplomat around and headed back to the house. He pulled the car to a stop and got out, then headed up the path. Bill found the front door unlocked, as expected, and went in. He noted no sign of forced entry. There was no sign of a struggle in the living room... except for about 50 sheets of paper on the floor. Bill shook his head and kept looking for clues.

After a few minutes of looking, then picking up the papers, Pam arrived. "Hi, Bill. I’d told Ralph that I’d be getting in earlier since he isn’t feeling very good and..." she glanced at the couch. "Is he in the bedroom?"

"No, Counselor--"

"Bathroom?" she interrupted.

"Counselor, no, we’ve got a problem bigger than a little cold," Bill said finally. "Ralph’s not here--"

"Oh no... he got worse!" Pam assumed.

"Counselor, wouldja let me finish!" Bill said, frustrated. "I think Ralph’s been kidnapped, more than likely by Methier’s goons. I’ve got the file out in the car."

"Kidnapped?" Pam repeated. "I talked to him not even thirty minutes ago."

"And that’s how fast it happen. I pulled up as they were throwin’ him in the car," Bill explained.

"Any ideas on where they might’ve taken him?"

"I’ve got a few."

Pam nodded. "And we’d better check them out quick. If Methier was indeed behind Ralph’s injury at the contest, who knows what they might have in mind for him this time."

Bill nodded. "I’m gonna guess he didn’t have the jammies on, otherwise those two garbanzo beans wouldn’t’ve been able to get the kid in the first place. We better bring it... Where’s he hide it, anyway?"

"In the closet in the bedroom. I’ll get it," Pam replied, then went into the bedroom. She returned moments later, the suit in her arms. With that, they left the house, headed for the beige Diplomat.

The dark blue sedan pulled up and around the old warehouse, then came to a stop. The two front doors opened and the young men got out. Gunnar headed into the warehouse, while Jesse opened one of the back doors and motioned for Ralph to get out. Not wanting to endanger himself anymore, he capitulated and pulled himself out, wincing at the twinge in his knee. Jesse slammed the door after him, then grabbed an arm and practically dragged Ralph along.

Upon entering the warehouse, Ralph was immediately aware of an odd odor and he had a pretty good idea of what the odor was. He just hoped he didn’t get high off the smell.

Methier, led by Gunnar, entered the room. Gunnar joined Jesse and each held onto one of Ralph’s arms, more to keep him standing than anything else. Methier walked up to Ralph, smirking. "Well, isn’t this a funny thing? You don’t seem as tough now as you did during the contest, especially after you were worked."

This set Ralph off. "Worked? No, I know you were behind that. How did you do it? I made sure my board was perfect before I got to the beach."

Methier motioned. "Jesse, you’re well-versed with surf boards. Why don’t you explain to our guest what happened."

Jesse smirked. "It’s amazing what a little acid can do to a surf board."

"Sabotage," Ralph said. "But why me? At the time, you didn’t know who among the contestants might’ve been better than you."

"Because I’ve kept an eye on you. You were out in your backyard practicing every day," Methier said.

Ralph’s eyes widened slightly, then he sighed. "Spying. Should’ve known."

"I like to call it scouting my opponents." Methier then leaned forward, getting only about an inch from Ralph’s face. "I was supposed to win that contest and, thanks to you, I lost. I needed that prize money for my business. Now, because of you, I can’t get my shipments out on time and my buyers are going to be very unhappy."

"I might have a little compassion if it was a legitimate business," Ralph returned.

"Maybe not to you, but it is to me." Methier moved back again, then turned his attention to the two young men. "Jesse, Gunnar, I think it’s time we did something with this troublemaker. If you two would be so kind...?"

Gunnar nodded. "Right, Tim."

"You got it, boss," Jesse said.

The two men dragged Ralph out of the room and down a hallway.

"You know," Gunnar began, "this warehouse used to be used for meat packing and holding. All of the equipment is gone now, but, funny thing, the walk-in cooler is still in perfect working order."

Jesse nodded. "It really helps with keeping particular goods nice and cool."

"You’re not going to get away with this," Ralph said, though it came out nowhere near as threatening as he’d hoped because of the cold.

They laughed, stopping by a latched door, which Gunnar opened. "Would you like to do the honors, Jesse?"

"Gladly," he responded, then shoved Ralph in.

He fell to the floor, his knee giving out in the abrupt action. Ralph turned to look back at them.

Gunnar smirked. "Now, don’t enjoy yourself too much in there, what with all those lovely drugs surrounding you."

The door slammed shut and the latch being done on the outside could be heard.

Ralph slowly lowered his head onto his arms. "Damn."

The two men rejoined Methier in a back room where several crates had been pushed together, used as tables. A half a dozen rifles were spread out on the crates. Four more men entered through a back door.

"Our little friend has been put on ice, literally," Jesse commented.

Methier nodded once. "Good. He’s going to pay for making me lose that competition... in more ways than one." He paused, glancing around at the men. "Now, we move onto the next step: preparing to ship out our goods."

Meanwhile, Ralph was trying to find some way out of the cooler. He walked around the room, arms folded over his chest, trying to keep warm. It wasn’t working and the cold was making his knee throb. But, determined to not give up, he continued looking for anything that could be helpful in getting him out.

Bill practically had the gas pedal to the floor. They’d already stopped at one of the possible places that Methier could’ve been hiding at and found nothing.

Pam pointed ahead of them. "Turn there, there’s an old warehouse down the street. It’s the next closest place."

"Got it, Counselor." Bill turned the wheel and slid through the turn, causing a couple other cars to honk at him.

The Diplomat finally came to a stop, parked on the opposite side of the street from the warehouse. They got out, Pam holding onto the jammies.

Bill pulled his service revolver from the holster and waved Pam around the back of the building. They found windows lining the walls, and knelt down to sneak past them.

They looked in one window where several men were loading crates, occasionally one leaving the room with a crate, then returning for another.

They continued along the wall. The next few windows revealed empty rooms. The last two windows, at the corner of the building, were frost covered.

Bill made a face as they stopped to look in. "Must be a refrigerated room."

"Those men we saw back there looked familiar. I think they were at the contest," Pam said.

"I was thinking the same thing, Counselor. My guess is Ralph’s here somewhere--"

Just then a loud crash came from inside the refrigerated room. They knelt down out of the view of the window, as the door to the room was opened. Bill peeked in the corner of the window and saw Methier look around the room, then smirk, and leave closing the door behind him again.

"What was that?" Pam whispered.

"I’d say we just found Ralph. Come on, we’ll try some of these windows back here. Less likely they’ll be around," Bill said.

They back tracked along the wall, trying the windows. The third one down gave way and opened. Bill pushed it up and went in, then helped Pam in after him. They moved to the already open door and looked out. Finding the hallway clear, they moved to the left, headed for the corner of the building.

They stopped in front of the latched door. Bill pulled at the latch and opened the door. They were hit with a blast of cold air from the room.

Bill went in first, Pam not far behind, now hugging the jammies to her. Bill looked around the standing shelves and stopped, holstering his revolver. He motioned for Pam. "Counselor!" he whispered.

Pam moved next to him. They found a small mess in the aisle from several boxes being tipped over and emptied. They also found Ralph sitting on the floor against the back wall, his good knee pulled up to his chest with his forehead leaning on it. The other leg moved slightly, like he was trying to keep it from stiffening up.

"Ralph..." Pam said, just loud enough to make Ralph look up.

He gave a half grin. "About time," he chattered.

Bill grabbed the jammies and stepped over the mess. "Time to get you warmed up, kid. Because right now, you being a human popsicle ain’t gonna help us."

It took several minutes, between Ralph being almost half frozen and unable to put his full weight on his bad knee, to get him into the suit.

Finally, Ralph was in the jammies, while Pam held onto the jean shorts and polo shirt he’d had on earlier. Ralph shook his head, and still spoke nasally, "These guys are really starting to get on my nerves." They left the freezer room and went back into the empty room where Bill and Pam had come in.

"Only starting to?" Pam asked, with a slight grin. Ralph responded with a pained grin.

"Okay, boys and girls, I hate to break up the reunion, but we’ve got some bad guys to catch," Bill said.

"Right," Ralph said. "Any particular scenario you’d like to use, Bill?"

"The one where Ralph goes invisible and scares the garbanzos out of the bad guys."

"Oh, that one," Ralph replied, then shrugged. "Why not, we haven’t used that since last week anyway."

"Cute, kid, real cute," Bill commented. "I’m starting to think I liked you better frozen. Now, lets go."

They walked down the hall headed towards the main room.

Bill, Ralph, and Pam made their way down the hall to the room with no problems and entered the room, finding it empty. A lone gun shot caused Ralph and Pam to move behind some crates, while Bill retalliated with a shot of his own before joining them behind the crates, but that was about ten minutes earlier.

Now, gun shots rang out, flying all across the main room.

A half a dozen men, situated behind crates, fired off round after round.

Unfortunately, Bill, Ralph, and Pam were the ones being shot at. Every few moments, Bill would turn around and fire off a shot around the crates they were stuck behind. Meanwhile, Ralph kept holding a finger under his nose.

He turned back to the other two and glared at Ralph. "Would you like to do something here, Ralph? We’re sittin’ ducks like this!"

Ralph took a quick glance around the side of one of the crates, then turned back. "I know, I know... it’s just his goons out there, though."

"Right, they’re the ones with the guns. He’s probably half way ‘cross LA by now," Bill said.

Ralph shook his head. "No, something doesn’t feel right. He’s still here--"

Bill grinned. "And if you can grab him, we could use him to make those goons quit shooting at us."

"Wait a minute, Bill--" Ralph began.

"You got the jammies. Just go invisible and go find him. Simple," Bill said. "Just like the way we originally planned."

"Bill, I don’t think that’s such a good idea anymore," Pam said, still holding Ralph’s clothes.

"I don’t, either," Ralph chimed in.

Bill opened his gun to reveal that he had no bullets left. "Is this reason enough, kid? And my snub-nosed is out, too."

Ralph sighed. "Alright. I’ll do it, but I won’t like it." He closed his eyes, bowing his head, and blinked invisible.

Bill gave a slight start. "Geez..." He felt a hand touch his shoulder, and turned to glance around the crate. "Even when I know he’s gonna do that, it still gives me the creeps!"

"Bill, this is crazy," Pam said.

"Do you have a better idea, Counselor? Besides, they ain’t shooting at the moment. Ralph should have no problem--" Bill was suddenly cut off by more gun fire.

Bullets ricocheted off the floor, walls, crates... and one in mid-air. All went silent as a soft thud resounded through the room.

The men looked on, eyes wide. Methier stepped out from behind them. He spoke briefly and waved the men out of the room, closing the door after them.

Hearing the door slam, Bill turned to look around the crates again. From his vantage point, he first looked around to where the men had been. They were now gone, so Bill stood.

"Wouldja look-it that? The kid scared them alright," Bill commented, shaking his head.

"What’s going on?" Pam asked, as she stood.

They both saw Ralph sitting on the floor near the middle of the room, completely visible, and holding the far side of his head to where they were. He coughed a few times.

"Must’ve tripped," Bill said, moving towards the blond haired man, Pam following him. "Okay, Ralph, up and at ‘em. You scared off the baddies."

Ralph turned his head slightly to glare at Bill, wincing in doing so.

"What--?" Pam began to ask as she and Bill stopped by Ralph. He pulled his right hand away from where he held it to his temple. His hand came away red.

"Whoa, uh, Ralph...?" Bill began.

"Oh, great," Ralph groaned. He made a move to get up and got half way up before he stopped cold. "Bill?"

"Yeah, kid? What’s wrong, Ralph?"

Ralph blinked a couple times. "I think you better catch me..." With that, he pitched forward, but Bill caught him, one arm across his chest and immediately moved the other across Ralph’s back, clasping his hands together for a strong hold.

"Geez! Some magic jammies! No protection from a little cut on the head!" Bill complained, tugging on the younger man, readjusting his hold on him.

Pam moved to take a better look at Ralph’s wound, shifting his clothes to one arm, and glanced up at Bill. "This isn’t just a little cut. I think he got grazed by one of the bullets."

Bill hefted the younger man again. "And he would have to pass out, too. I wish he knew just how heavy he really is."

Pam shrugged. "I’d offer to help, but I do know how heavy he is. I’d have to be wearing the suit to give you a hand."

As soon as the words left Pam’s mouth, the suit began to glow.

Bill made a face, practically moving Ralph as far away from himself as he could, while still holding onto him. "Oh no... now what’s it doin’? I hate this spooky stuff!"

The suit flashed a bright red, causing Bill and Pam to close their eyes against the offending light. Once it faded, they both slowly opened their eyes.

Bill started, seeing that Ralph was no longer in his arms, but instead had Ralph’s clothes. "Where...?"

"Um, Bill, I think we have a problem..." Pam said.

Bill glanced at her and his eyes widened.

Pam now wore the magic jammies and held Ralph with one arm under his shoulders, the other under his knees. He was left only in his shorts and the bandage still wrapped around his knee.

"Yeah, Counselor, I’d say we do..."

Bill paced back and forth in the Hinkley living room, box of Milkbones under one arm and holding a bowl of something, which he dipped the biscuits into with the other hand.

Pam still wore the suit, though now she had a robe over it. She watched Bill make one more lap before turning her gaze to Ralph.

Ralph was still a little pale, in addition to still having the cold and bum knee. He was also a little embarrassed for what happened with the jammies, to boot. He was now back in his jean shorts and polo shirt, with his knee more heavily bandaged.

"Okay, so the jammies got a mind of their own now," Bill stated. "Ralph gets buzzed, the Counselor says something about wearing the jammies, and, before we know it, the kid’s impersonating a flasher and the Counselor’s got the jammies. Oh, yeah, that makes a whole load of sense." He stopped and sat on the coffee table across from the others. "Does anyone have something of an explanation for what happened?"

Ralph cleared his throat, but still spoke with a nasal voice. "I know how the suit reacts normally, but it’s probably reacting to my cold." He paused, fending off a sneeze. "Because a couple months ago, when I hit the train, that was worse than getting grazed by a bullet." He pointed to his bandaged temple. "There was no protection here. I got lucky with this."

Bill made an annoyed sound. "Just because you’re sick, that’s it?" As if to answer, Ralph sneezed. Bill rolled his eyes. "Kid, it was a rhetorical question."

"That does make sense, though," Pam said. "If the suit was made specifically for Ralph, then why was it so easy for me to get it? Unless the suit knew something was wrong--"

Ralph suddenly interrupted with a sneeze.

"Kid, wouldja stop spreading the germs, here?! Geez!" Bill complained.

Ralph grabbed a tissue. "Sorry."

Pam continued. "Unless the suit knew something was wrong, as in the injuries Ralph’s sustained and/or becoming sicker. That is something we haven’t dealt with while having the suit. What happens with the suit when Ralph gets sick or injured to the point where he can’t wear it? I’d say we’re finding out right now."

"Well, the jammies picked one heckuva time to go crazy when we’re so close to nailing this drug ring we’ve been chasing the last coupla days," Bill said.

Pam sighed. "In the mean time, since this is the first time that I’m actually wearing the suit, could I get some practice with it?"

Ralph checked his watch. "Still got a few hours of daylight left. We could make it out to the desert with plenty of time."

Bill stood. "Okay, kids, lets get going so we can let Ralph get warmed up some more, get the Counselor more personally acquainted with the jammies, and work out a new scenario to get Methier."

The beige Dodge Diplomat came to a stop, out in the middle of nowhere in the desert. The car doors opened and everyone got out. Pam slid off the overcoat she wore over the suit and dropped it on the seat. The car doors were closed as Bill looked around.

"Okay, Counselor, what’s up first?" Bill asked.

"How about flying?" Pam suggested, turning to Ralph.

He nodded. "First thing I learned. Just remember, three steps and jump."

"Okay." Pam moved around the guys and stood off to one side. She ran three steps and pushed off, shooting up into the air. She couldn’t help the scream that escaped her lips. She didn’t know it because she hadn’t been there, but her first flight was just as bad as Ralph’s had been.

Ralph and Bill watched as Pam dipped from side to side, tumbled, and basically looked like she was inside an invisible pinball machine.

Bill rolled his eyes. "Wouldja look-it that? Even the Counselor can’t fly straight! What’s with the jammies, anyway? They got a broken aileron or somethin’?"

Ralph cupped his hands around his mouth, trying to make sure he could be heard. "Keep your arms straight, Pam! Relax a little!"

She made a sharp banking turn and started toward back where the guys were... and also began a descent.

Bill rolled his eyes. "One crash landing comin’ up."

As Pam neared the guys, she banked sharply again... and crashed into Ralph, causing both of them to go tumbling on the sand. Pam stopped, laying on her back and sat up, shaking her head.

Ralph, however, was face down in the sand. He lifted his head and looked dazedly at Pam. "Gotta work on your landings, Pamela..." And he thumped his head back down.

Pam frowned. "I’m sorry, Ralph. I was trying to pull up for the landing and turned, instead." She got up and dusted herself off, then helped him up. "I didn’t get your knee, did I?"

Bill approached as Pam helped Ralph dust himself off and cut off Ralph’s response, "That’s just great, Counselor. Wanna do any more harm to the kid, here?" He motioned to Ralph.

Ralph waved it off. "Just call me your punching bag." He made a face, then sighed. "What do you want to try next, Pam?"

Bill pulled out his gun. "How about the ol’ bullet proof test?"

Pam’s eyes widened. "I’m not ready for that, yet, Bill. How about invisibility?"

"That’s simple... and shouldn’t cause any harm to anyone," Ralph said. "It’s a little harder to explain. You just sort of clear your mind and push."

"Push?" Pam echoed.

Ralph shrugged. "Yes."

Pam nodded and emulated Ralph’s approach to becoming invisible. She bowed her head and closed her eyes. She began to flicker.

"Little more concentration..." Ralph urged.

Her hands clenched into fists. Finally, she flickered out completely.

Bill holstered his gun and folded his arms. "But can the Counselor stay invisible?"

"Yes, I--" Pam began, and blinked visible again. She gave a sheepish smile. "I can work on that."

Ralph turned to him. "That was a dirty trick, Bill."

"But necessary," Bill said.

"Anyway," Ralph said, "lets try a few more things..."

Later that evening, Bill drove the trio out of the desert. Pam sat in the passenger seat, once again wearing the overcoat.

"I thought that went rather well," Pam said, glancing at Bill.

Bill made an aggravated sound. "Yeah... right."

"Oh, come on, Bill! It wasn’t that bad! I didn’t set the car on fire!"

"No, but that cactus sure went up in smoke."

"The telekinesis worked."

"Counselor, you were aiming for a rock and you moved the kid instead," Bill said, giving her a quick glance. "Then you dropped him. No wonder he’s sleeping it off back there."

Pam frowned and glanced to the back, where Ralph was sleeping, reclined against the back seat with his bum leg stretched out across the back and his foot resting on the center compartment of the front seat. "At least I thought to put the seat belt around him before we started off. That’s all he’d need is for you to slam on the brakes and he wakes up because he’s on the floor back there."

"I wouldn’t do that! Not on purpose anyway."

"Well, I didn’t do any harm with the speed running."

"Not much. You kicked up enough dust that both me and the kid thought we were gonna cough up a lung."

"Bill, I was trying, at least! I’m not used to having the suit! It’s only my first day," Pam argued, with Bill grumbling in response.

Silence reigned between the two as Bill continued to drive. The only sound remaining was the occassional stuffy-nosed snore from Ralph in the back.

Some time later, Bill pulled the car up in front of the ranch-style house. He turned to Pam. "Listen, Counselor, I’m just trying to help. I know you’re doing your best. I want these guys badly, though. Now even more for what they’ve put Ralph through."

Pam nodded. "We’ll work on this again in the morning." She opened the door and got out.

Bill leaned over. "Counselor, you got the kid okay?"

Pam opened the back door and leaned in to unbuckle the still sleeping Ralph. "I’ve got the jammies. No problem," she replied with a smile and a hint of sarcasm, then put an arm under his shoulders and the other under his knees, careful of the injured one, and picked him up. She pushed a hip against the door to close it. "Night, Bill."

Bill waved, then pulled away.

Pam stopped in front of the door. The house key was in the coat pocket, but she’d have to set Ralph down--and she wasn’t sure enough of her telekinesis to not drop him again.

"Point and concentrate," came the groggy answer.

She smiled down at Ralph, whose eyes were half open. "Thanks, hon."

"Anytime."

Pam concentrated on the door knob, pointing an index finger. It took a moment, then a click was heard and the door swung open. She grinned and went in, closing the door after them. She walked through the living room, straight through to the bedroom, where she finally set Ralph down on the bed.

Ralph propped himself up on his elbows, watching as Pam slid off the overcoat. "Despite what Bill says, you did very well with the suit, first day and all."

"Thank you, Ralph," Pam said, smiling. She unbuttoned the cape and pulled it off, then draped it over an arm. "Ralph, what have I gotten into? I know what you and Bill do... and I’m not so sure I can handle it."

Ralph eased himself up off the bed, keeping one hand on the bed to steady himself as he moved closer to her. "Pamela, I know you can handle this. So does the suit. If the suit didn’t think you could, it wouldn’t have transferred to you. It knows that we need to catch Methier and his cohorts." He paused to fend off a sneeze. "And frankly, I don’t feel like I’m of much use in my current state, even with the jammies on."

Pam brushed the curls from his forehead, smiling. "Thank you, hon." Then her eyes widened slightly, her hand lingering on his forehead. "Ralph, you feel warm..."

He gave a snort. "I’d be surprised if I didn’t."

"You’d better lie back down. Would you like a cold pack...?"

Ralph waved it off. "No, no more cold stuff. I’ll be fine. Listen, why don’t you practice a little bit more in the suit, since it’s still relatively early."

Pam nodded. "Maybe I will." She grinned. "And you go back to sleep. I want to hear snoring when I come back in here in a few hours." She gave him a wink.

"Pamela, I do not snore," he responded, returning the wink, then settled back down on the bed.

"Sure, Ralph, sure." She chuckled, headed for the door.

"Oh, and Pam?"

She turned back to him just before she reached the doorway. "Yes, hon?"

"Keep the fire extinguisher handy in case you set anything on fire accidentally."

Pam stuck her tongue out at him and closed the door after her.

Ralph sighed. "I wasn’t being facetious, though..."

Across town, an irate Methier paced back and forth, in the back room of an arcade. The room had been turned into an office, with the arcade acting as a front.

Gunnar and Jesse stood by the wall, near the door. Gunnar folded his arms. "Boss--"

Methier stopped, eyes wide. "Don’t! Listen, you two know what happened as well as I do. We all spotted that Hinkley guy wearing the weird red get up. We saw him and his buddies get trapped behind those crates. What I can’t figure out, is why those bullets seemed to ricochet in mid-air and why Hinkley suddenly appeared out of nowhere, falling to the floor. There is no such thing as the invisible man!"

"Boss--" Jesse tried.

"I don’t want to hear it!" Methier interrupted. "I want Hinkley and I want that money. If I don’t get that money, we’re going to have some incredibly unfriendly men on our backs, breathing down our necks. You two are going after him again and this time you’re going to do it right, dammit!"

Ralph stood still, his eyes fixated on the sky above the desert, watching Pam fly around in the jammies. Her flying had gotten much better with practice... he even had to admit her flights looked better than his own.

Suddenly, Pam began to do a fishtail and before Ralph knew it... Pam did a belly flop into the ocean. Ralph ran across the sand to get to her, but couldn’t reach the shore. He kept treading sand. The water was in view, but he couldn’t reach it, no matter how far or how fast he ran.

Ralph’s knee gave out and he fell face-first into the sand. He didn’t move for a moment, then finally raised his head. In front of him, he saw a pair of bare feet. He looked up and found Methier grinning down at him. Methier held a gun trained at Ralph’s head. Methier thumbed the hammer and his grin faded. The gun fired and the world went black...

Ralph shot up in bed, breathing heavily, partly from the dream and partly from not being able to get air through his stuffy nose. He sucked in air through his mouth the best he could and almost felt as though he was hyper ventilating. He turned his head to look at Pam’s side of the bed and found it empty. He looked at the clock.

‘Ten thirty?’ he thought. Sure enough, sunlight was trickling through the closed blinds the best it could. Ralph ran a hand through his curls and made a face. With or without the dream, he still felt horrible.

His entire body felt achy and his knee was throbbing. He couldn’t decide whether to pull up the few blankets on the bed or kick them off, as one moment he felt chilled, and the next he was sweating.

Ralph groaned... then his eyes widened. He got up as quickly and carefully as he could and made his way out the bedroom door, around the corner, and into the bathroom.

He came back out a few minutes later, now wearing sweat pants, having changed from the pajamas he was sure that Pam had helped him into but didn’t remember. He moved slowly, a hand resting on his stomach. Horrible wasn’t a strong enough adjective anymore... Ralph couldn’t find the right word and decided to keep his mind preoccupied by coming up with a new word to describe just how he felt.

He crossed through the living room, headed for the kitchen. It seemed like it took an eternity just to get to the dining room table, which was where he spotted a small piece of paper. He leaned against the table and picked it up.

"Ralph, went with Bill to work on a few ‘scenarios.’ Will try to be back around noon to see if you’re up for lunch. Hope you’re feeling better, Pam," Ralph read aloud, his voice cracking slightly and sounding even more nasal than before. He made a face, then put the note back down on the table, and continued to the kitchen.

He stopped at the fridge and pulled out a small glass bottle, with a 7-Up label. He set it on the counter and opened a cabinet just above and pulled out a glass and closed the cabinet, then opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle opener. He opened the bottle, then put the opener back, clsoing the drawer, and filled half of the glass with the clear soda, leaving what was left in the bottle on the counter. He went to sit at the kitchen table. His eyes narrowed, focusing on a still-sealed envelope on the table.

Ralph reached slowly across the table, resting a finger on the corner of the envelope and slid it closer to him. He fought with it for a few moments before it finally opened. Inside, he found ten one-hundred-dollar bills... the prize money from the contest. He wasn’t sure if everything that’d happened to him was worth the thousand dollars.

He started and finished the half a glass of 7-Up in one try. Ralph set the empty glass back on the table and sat back, glancing around the kitchen. His gaze rested on the window... where he could’ve sworn he’d just seen a shadow quickly disappear.

"Who’s out there?" Try as he could, he could not sound threatening at all with his voice the way it was--not that he thought he could’ve sounded all that threatening when he felt fine, but that was beside the point. He listened for a moment, just hearing his own louder breathing. It was a few moments before he could make out branches rustling.

Ralph was just getting to his feet when the back door was kicked in and Jesse and Gunnar stepped in. He was in big trouble...

"How’s that holograph coming, Counselor?" Bill asked, leaning against the car. He looked down at Pam, who was using the side mirror, attempting to get said holograph.

She shook her head. "I’m not getting anything off of this." Pam held up the shirt she’d been attempting to holograph off of, which was the polo shirt Ralph had been wearing the previous day.

Bill sighed. "We’ll trying something else, then..." He took the shirt and leaned in the back window of the car, fishing around for something else to use.

Pam sighed, now empty-handed, and glanced at the mirror again, this time she saw the edges of the mirror turn wavy. "Wait a minute, Bill... I think I’m getting something!"

"Counselor, you’re not even holding anything!" Bill said, matter of factly. "Lemme see..." He moved to stand next to her and rested a hand on her shoulder.

Sure enough, it was a holograph. The wavy images straightened out, revealing the Hinkleys’ kitchen, apparently looking in from the dining room. Pam gasped, excited that it was finally working. "That’s the house..."

"You must be getting vibes from the suit," Bill surmised, seeing the same images as Pam.

They both heard a crash and watched as a body hit the floor. The person’s face was turned, away from them, but the mop of curly blond hair was obvious...

"Ralph!" Pam exclaimed.

Gunnar picked him up in a fireman’s carry, Ralph’s arms hanging limply. Jesse grabbed the envelope off the table and stuffed it into a jacket pocket. The holograph faded as they left the kitchen.

"Counselor, go after them! Talk me in on the communicator!" Bill urged.

Pam frowned, but nodded. She took three running steps, then leapt into the air.

Bill climbed into the car and started it up, then stepped on the gas. He did not like the look of this scenario one bit.

Methier sat back in his chair, his feet propped up on his desk. He counted out one-thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills... Ralph’s surfing contest winnings as he waited for Ralph to return to consciousness.

Ralph was sprawled out on a beat-up couch across the room, having been unceremoniously dropped there by Jesse and Gunnar.

Ralph groaned rather loudly, returning to consciousness. His head was throbbing, which matched the way the rest of his body felt. He blinked his eyes open and stared up at the half-tiled ceiling. He had a strange, sinking feeling in his stomach...

"Welcome back," Methier greeted, smirking.

Inwardly, Ralph groaned. He made an attempt to lift his head and glare at Methier, but immediately regretted it as the throbbing seemed to double.

"You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, you know that?" Methier said. He put the money back in the envelope and stood. He reached into a desk drawer and pocketed a folded switchblade, which Ralph didn’t see. Methier walked around the desk, moving closer to Ralph. He loved being able to gloat and cause a little added fear, before offing his enemies.

Ralph shifted his gaze the best he could to look up at Methier, the feeling in his stomach growing stronger. He cleared his throat, or at least tried to... and used the one sentence he hated to hear or read from the sheer predictability of it: "You won’t get away with this."

Methier smirked, hearing Ralph’s almost non-existent voice. "How do you figure that?" He stuffed a hand into a pocket and pulled out the switchblade, then opened it.

Ralph’s eyes widened and he gasped the best he could.

Suddenly, a frantic female scream could be heard... and Ralph instinctively put his arms over his face and head. A blur of red crashed through an outer wall, crashing right into Methier, causing the two to tumble and rolling to a stop, Methier clunking his head against the wall.

Pam shook her head, clearing the few cobwebs from the crash landing, and stood up. She went over to Ralph, who was just uncovering his head.

"My hero," he said, hoarsely, with a grin.

Pam returned the grin. "Fair is fair."

Bill stepped in through the rubble that was once the wall. "Good goin’, Counselor! You really brought down the house, here! How’s the kid?"

Ralph rolled his eyes.

"I think he’s conscious, Bill," Pam replied, grinning.

Bill continued farther into the room. "And I see our perp is out cold. Very good, Counselor." He could just barely hear Ralph say something about gold stars. "Funny, kid, real funny. You sound like you’re gargling with sand paper, there, Ralph."

Pam shook her head, then helped Ralph sit up. "Thanks, Bill," he replied in a whisper.

Bill cuffed Methier, then hefted the man up into a fireman’s carry. "I’ll take care of taking out this garbage." He turned to Pam. "Counselor, Ralph’s your problem." He walked by them, headed back out to his car, his voice fading as he went, "I already got the other two outside as I was coming in. Those two didn’t put up much of a fight."

"Are you ready for a flight, Ralph?" Pam asked.

"Think I can handle it," Ralph replied, again in the whisper.

Again, Pam picked him up, one arm under his shoulders, the other under his knees. He wrapped his left arm around her neck. Pam backed up, then took three running steps and took to the sky. She gave a slight yell, adjusting her flight to accomodate the addition of carrying Ralph, who made a face.

"Sorry, hon," Pam apologized and Ralph nodded his acceptance.

Two weeks had passed since the suit had been transferred to Pam. All three were once again out in the desert, trying out various suit scenarios.

Bill loudly coached Pam, or thought he was coaching, usually only to have Ralph call out the opposite to Pam.

After everything that had happened, Ralph had ended up on crutches for several days for his knee. He’d been free of them for two days and currently chose to lean against the Diplomat. Only a slight scar remained at his temple where he’d been grazed by the bullet. And best of all, his cold was finally gone.

Ralph had to admit that he was finally feeling better... and just a little jealous that Pam still had the suit.

Pam came in for a landing and when she tried to bring her legs under her, she misjudged and landed on her rear, skidding until she stopped, laying on her back.

Bill made an aggravated gesture, throwing his arms out to his sides. "Counselor!"

Ralph made his way over to Pam, only a slight limp remaining. He held a hand out to help her up. She took the offered hand in both of hers, then Ralph put his other hand on hers. He used his good leg to dig into the sand and lift her up. Once both were standing, the suit began to glow. They’re hands remained clasped.

"Uh, Ralph?" Pam began. "This is what the suit did just before it tranferred to me!"

"Maybe it’s coming back to me..." As soon as Ralph said it, the suit flashed a bright red, causing them to close their eyes, turning their heads away, while Bill shielded his. When they looked, Ralph once again wore the suit, his own clothes on the ground.

Pam looked down at herself and grinned, finding the clothes she had been wearing when she got the suit.

Bill walked up to them as Ralph picked up his clothes off the ground. "We’re dealing with some real funny little green guys, here. When Ralph loses the suit, we gotta look at him in just his little shorts. The Counselor loses the suit and she’s left in normal clothes."

Ralph gave Pam a wink, seeing her frown. "As long as the suit doesn’t decide to give you a turn, Bill. I don’t know if I could handle seeing you in just shorts."

"Funny, kid, real funny," Bill commented as Ralph and Pam laughed.