After watching the 'Good Wilt Hunting' special during the Thanksgiving weekend, I really wanted to write another story for Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends. It's been a long time since I wrote my first one, and not only did the special totally negate it, but it was written years ago...and looking back on it, it's not that great.

Anyway, this story wasn't only inspired by the 'Good Wilt Hunting' special, but also by some writings by Dude13 (and if you're reading this, Dude13, please don't be mad...). I've read some of the author's work, and I was kind of inspired by it...I didn't copy the exact same idea, of course, but I did like the idea of Wilt and Frankie being really close to each other. And that's pretty much obvious in this story.

Considering that the Creator Reunion Picnic takes place every five years, it can stand to reason that there were other picnics in the past. And we'll assume that Frankie had been to the other ones in the past. And since we know that Jordan never showed up to the past picnics...well, how about I just let you read the story?

Enjoy!

Imaginary Smiles

For a house that was filled with so many people and imaginary friends, Frankie found herself feeling strangely lonely.

It hadn't always been that way. Just a few hours ago, she had been darting about from place to place in the front yard with the type of excitement and energy that only a seven-year-old could possess, talking to each of the creators and getting to know what kind of people imagined the friends that her grandmother took care of. She had been looking forward to the event for quite a while, especially after hearing so much about the last time something similar had taken place (she couldn't remember it at all even though Grandma said she had been there visiting at the time). Several times she had been scolded by Mr. Herriman for asking too many questions (including why people had abandoned their imaginary friends to begin with), but that hadn't deterred her from seeking out each friend and their person to talk to.

Except for Duchess. The young girl wasn't entirely sure if Duchess's creator had showed up, but she hadn't been too enthusiastic to find out what kind of kid had made someone like Duchess. She made a face at the thought.

It had only been after Mr. Herriman had to come and shoo her away the final time that her grandmother had also come over to explain how the friends hadn't seen their creators for quite a while, and that the picnic gave them a chance for them to spend some time together. That, of course, had been the point of the Creator Reunion Picnic, and even with Frankie's eager curiosity she could understand just how important this experience was for the friends at Foster's.

And as she gazed out at all the people, talking and laughing with the companions they had created and just enjoying themselves, she couldn't help but feel a little jealous. She had never thought to make an imaginary friend for herself before, but at that moment she felt that she was sorely missing out on something great. Even Grandma had Mr. Herriman, and being the only person there without an imaginary friend to hang out with wasn't any fun at all.

She gave out a loud, dramatic sigh though she knew no one would hear her. Everyone else was too busy. Just as she was about to resign herself to settling on the stoop and braiding her scarlet hair, however, the familiar sound of passing squeaky shoes caught her attention. Eyes darting up, she watched as a recognizably tall, red imaginary friend maneuvered around the mass of people and other friends as he wandered by. But as she watched him, she knew that something wasn't right.

Even the child could see the slump in the lanky companion's shoulders, causing him to appear shorter than his usual height (even if he was still much taller than anyone else). The squeak of his shoes was oddly soft under the sluggish step of his heavy tread. But what stunned her most was the miserable frown fixed on his features. It wasn't just on his lips; the sullen expression seemed even to dull the light in his good eye.

She couldn't remember Wilt ever looking so unhappy before. Whenever she had come to visit her grandmother's house, he had always greeted her with a friendly smile that always made her feel so happy and warm. He was always one of the first friends she would go find to play with, and he never seemed to mind her company. If she had ever been upset, he would always find a way to cheer her up.

She never thought that she would ever see him look so depressed.

She wanted to go see what was wrong, but she still hesitated. After all, she did promise Mr. Herriman that she wouldn't bother anyone anymore. But then again…he had told her not to bother anyone since she had already talked to them and asked them her questions (even if she hadn't finished asking her questions). And she hadn't talked to Wilt yet that day.

With that thought in mind, she grinned and jumped off the stairs to run after the other.

His elongated legs gave him such a long stride, even with his slow pace, that it was difficult for her to catch up, especially with the amount of distance he was already ahead of her. Luckily for her, he finally came to a stop just by the side of the house, away from the picnic and its participants. When she was close enough, she skidded to an abrupt stop and grabbed the imaginary friend's long arm, partially to attract his attention but mostly to prevent herself from falling over.

Wilt jumped slightly at the weight that suddenly caught hold of his arm, but he somehow managed to quickly calm himself. His left eye rattled as he glanced down. "Oh…Frankie!" he exclaimed. The touch of disappointment on the edge of his tone was well-hidden. Taking note of her heavy breathing, he lift his arm just enough to help her stand up straight. "I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

She nodded slightly, inhaling deeply for a final time before looking up at him. "Where're you goin', Wilt?" she asked with as much sweetness as she could muster.

"Um…nowhere…"

The troubled expression was once again fixed on his features. With a slight incline of the head, Frankie gently tugged on his arm. "Wilt? Is something wrong?"

"What?" Shaking himself back to the present, he once again regarded the little girl, this time with a small smile on his face. "Oh…no! Sorry. Everything's just fine!"

'At least he's smiling again,' was the first thought to enter the redhead's mind. But there was something…wrong about it. It wasn't one of Wilt's regular smiles; it had none of the friendly warmth that he was well-known for. There was no happy feeling behind it. It just seemed so empty…not a real smile at all.

What she found really puzzling was that he was trying so hard to keep it on his face.

Frowning, she tugged on his arm again. "Well, why're you over here? Why aren't you with your creator?"

The muscles in his thin arm tightened slightly as the strained smile wavered. But though she noticed this, Frankie became too absorbed in her own question to stop. "What's your creator like, huh, Wilt? Is it a boy or a girl? I bet it's a boy, huh, since you play basketball and everything…Hey, does he play basketball too? Is he as good as you? What's he look like? How old is he? Oh!" Her eyes suddenly lit up hopefully. "Is he my age? Or at least around my age, maybe? 'Cause if he is, do you think he'll let me play with you guys?"

By this point the smile was completely gone, and Wilt seemed to be struggling to answer her. Carefully managing to free his arm from her grasp, he replied, "I'm sorry, but…I don't think that'll be possible…Sorry, is that okay?"

The exaggerated pout that suddenly crossed her face indicated that it certainly wasn't. "Awww…how come?"

The crimson imagination rubbed the back of his head, appearing a little uncomfortable. "Because…" With a quick glance at the rest of the picnic, he sighed heavily. "My creator's…not coming."

"Not coming?!" she repeated, thunderstruck. "You mean…not at all?!"

He shook his head slowly, causing his eye to rattle once more.

"But…he…why not?!" Wilt's creator just had to come! This was the Creator Reunion Picnic! The one time in a long time that the imaginary friends could see the people who made them since they first arrived at her grandmother's house. And Wilt had been at the house for as long as she could remember! How long had it been since he had seen his creator?

But she could now understand just what had the normally-cheerful friend looking so upset. Seeing all the other friends with their creators, laughing, having fun, and enjoying themselves while he was all by himself because his own kid wasn't going to show up just didn't seem fair. Wilt must have been so…lonely.

Just like she had been before.

Frankie decided that there must have been something she could do for him. He was always willing to cheer her up if she was ever sad, and this was her chance to do the same for him. There had to be something she could do to help make him happy again. If she could just get his mind off his creator, then maybe he wouldn't feel so bad. But how was she supposed to do that, especially while the picnic was going on? Getting him away from the picnic might work, maybe back inside the house or something, but then what? What could she do to help him?

Well, there was a small idea that came to mind, but she wasn't sure how well it would work. At the moment, though, it seemed she didn't really have any other choices.

She cleared her throat loudly in order to get his attention. "Hey…Wilt?" she said softly.

With a rattle of his eye, his attention was once again focused on her. "Yeah?"

"Will you play with me?"

The puzzled expression never left his face. "What?"

She was quite aware of how much of a little baby she had made the question sound. But the tall friend always seemed happy playing with her, and if she could distract him with a game, then maybe he wouldn't be so upset. Not that she would tell him that. Instead, she said aloud, "Well, since we're both not doing anything over there, I thought that maybe we can go do something somewhere else and have fun on our own."

He seemed to take a moment to think. Then, with a small smile, he nodded. "Yeah, sure…okay. That sounds like fun."

With a grin of her own, Frankie took the imaginary friend's hand and began leading him into the house. It was something at least. But his smile still wasn't right. It still seemed empty and forced on…a fake smile.

She just hoped she could change that.

To say that Frankie was feeling nervous was a gross understatement.

By that time, she was used to helping her grandmother around the house and taking care of all the imaginary friends. That wasn't a problem to her anymore once she had learned what to do and what kind of care certain friends needed. And she hadn't complained (too much anyway) when Mr. Herriman had told her that, since she was old enough to "handle certain responsibilities," she was "obligated to assist around the household." She didn't mind too much, and she felt that she was getting pretty good at it.

But this was different. This was the Creator Reunion Picnic, and it was by far the most important event that she would have to work through. She had been too young to do much at the last one five years ago, but this year her grandmother had asked her to help make sure the guests were enjoying themselves, and to serve refreshments if needed be. And she had been eager to help out…initially.

She was worried now, though. Helping out around the house was one thing, after all, and it was something she did everyday. The picnic, however, was something that only happened once every five years, contributing to the overall importance of the event. She just wanted to make sure that everything went right today for all the imaginary friends and their creators, since this picnic meant so much to all of them. She didn't want to do anything that could possibly ruin all of that for them. Especially since there were so many more friends at the house than there had been the last time, which meant more people for the young adolescent to attend to.

She had just finished handing out some chocolate cupcakes and was slowly making her way back to the dessert table with the treats she still had leftover (which, unfortunately, were still a lot). She had hoped that by the time she was done, the tray would have been light enough to carry with one hand…or at the very least she had hoped that people would have taken enough cupcakes for her to see over them. But she had no such luck.

Whose idea was it to stack the cupcakes on top of each other, anyway? And why did they have so much of them?

At least she was almost at the table. But trying to maneuver around the crowd and avoid being knocked into while at the same time keeping the pyramid of cakes from tipping over was difficult, even if she was getting better at serving food at dinner each night. And she was able to make it all right so far. Just a little bit more, and then…

Unfortunately her anticipations were quickly dashed as her foot suddenly stumbled over a jagged stone. She hastily managed to keep her balance but somehow lost her grip on the tray.

Due to the laws of gravity, the preteen had expected the plate to fall to the ground, sending the cupcakes splattering all over the grass in a dark and frosted crumbed mess. When that scenario never happened, she was more than just a little surprised. Until she noticed the round crimson tips just barely visible under the side of the tray.

"Sorry," a familiar voice said suddenly. "Here, let me help you with that…"

She looked up to see Wilt towering over her, a broad grin spread over his face. He had somehow managed to catch the tray of cupcakes before they had all toppled over, much to her relief. Where he had come from, though, she wasn't sure, especially since she hadn't seen him all day. "Thanks," she said softly.

His smile seemed to widen as he lifted the carrying plate from her. "No problem!" he replied. With two squeaking steps, the helper friend placed the cupcakes back on the dessert table. "That's not to say that you really needed my help, though," he hastened to correct. "I mean, I'm sure you could've handled it on your own, I just thought…"

"It's okay, Wilt." She sighed softly as she rubbed her arm a little before glaring at the table that had only been a small distance away from where she stood. "I was just so worried that I'd mess something up today, and if you hadn't come along…"

"Don't be silly, Frankie. You're doing just fine."

She glanced up at him, not bothering to hide her skepticism. "Yeah, right…"

"No really! I think you're doing a great job so far!"

The adolescent continued to watch the companion's smiling face, trying to determine if he was just saying that to make her feel better. But that would have meant that he was lying, and she knew that lying was generally beyond his capabilities. So she somehow managed to return the smile. "Thanks, Wilt."

He waved his hand in slight dismissal. "There's no need to thank me," he answered. "You're the one who's working so hard today. Is there anything I can do to help you out?"

"No thanks. I think I should be okay. Besides, you should probably be getting back to your creator, after all."

She had stated those words without really thinking about them, but she was easily able to see the effect it had on the imaginary friend. Though the smile was still on his face, it wasn't the same smile that had been there just seconds before. It was a tense smile that had been forced on, and it suddenly seemed as though he was having trouble keeping it there.

And for a brief moment, the memory of a similar smile flickered through her mind of an instance years before – of a certain imaginary friend who had been all by himself, hiding behind an empty smile, because his creator hadn't shown up as all the others had.

For some reason, that suddenly made the preteen feel slightly uneasy. "Wilt…" she said softly, "your creator is here this year…right?"

The fake smile faltered a bit as the helper friend suddenly became interested in his sneakers. "Um, well…I guess not, no," he finally managed to reply.

She couldn't help but stare at him, her mouth agape. Wilt's creator hadn't come again? How could that be? Not coming the first time might have been viewed as an accident or something, but the second time? She wasn't entirely sure. Why would Wilt's creator not show up again? Poor Wilt! He must have felt terrible, once again seeing all the other imaginary friends and their creators while he was all alone.

"Oh, Wilt…" the girl began, but had to stop when no other words came to mind. She felt bad for him, remembering how lonely and depressed he had been the last time this occurred. But just what was she supposed to say? Could anything she say make him feel any better? As she watched him, seeing the sadness in his eyes behind the tight smile, she wondered what she could do to help him. If she could just take his mind off his creator, maybe that could…

But how was she supposed to do that? She was too old to play with him the way they had done before. Plus Herriman would have thrown a fit if she didn't stay around and help at the picnic, so she wouldn't have been able to get Wilt away in order to stop thinking about it. What else could she do?

As she continued to think, her mind eventually came up with a small idea. Whether or not it would help, she wasn't entirely sure. A part of her feared that it would only make him feel worse. But maybe doing something he enjoyed doing would distract him enough, and at least this way he wouldn't be alone.

Clearing her throat, Frankie began rocking on the balls of her feet. "Hey, Wilt?" she said sweetly.

He glanced at her. "Yeah?"

"Well, see, I was gonna go around and see if anybody wanted anything off the barbecue. But there's just so many people around here…so I was wondering…would you help me?"

He stared at her for a moment, curiosity replacing the misery in his eyes and the fake smile on his face. Then he grinned and nodded. "Yeah, sure! C'mon, let's go!" he replied, a little too eagerly for the adolescent's liking. But she didn't have much time to think about it when he began to stride off.

Quickly she grabbed his hand to stop him from going too far. "Wilt, we have to go get the food from Herriman first," she said.

His left eye rattled a bit as he turned back to look at her. Then, gazing around, he found that Herriman and the grill stood in the opposite direction of where he had been heading. "Oh, right. Sorry."

Still holding onto his hand, Frankie began to lead him to where the rabbit was. She could only hope that having Wilt helping her would distract him, even just a little bit. But she knew that it wouldn't completely make things easier for him. After all, his creator – possibly the most important person to an imaginary friend – had failed to show up again at the Creator Reunion Picnic. And seeing how much that hurt the crimson companion…her heart ached for him.

How did Wilt feel about all this…other than being upset and lonely? What did he think about not having his creator present at the picnic? Did he ever wonder why his kid – if he was still a kid – didn't show up again this year? Was he…worried at all about why his creator didn't come?

She couldn't understand it at all. Wilt was such a great imaginary friend. He was always so nice and helpful, and everyone at the house loved him. So why wouldn't his creator want to come and visit him? It was only once every five years. It didn't make any sense to her.

And she didn't like seeing Wilt look so depressed. She always loved seeing him happy and smiling. Not the rigid, empty smile he was trying to hide behind, but a genuine smile.

She wasn't sure what she could do to make him feel better. But she decided that she could at least stay with him so he wouldn't be all alone at the picnic. She only hoped that it would be enough.

No matter how hard she tried, Frankie just couldn't seem to rid herself of her irritable mood.

She didn't want to be so angry, especially today of all days. She was supposed to be helping at the Creator Reunion Picnic, making sure that everyone was having a good time. And she knew that if she remained as testy as she was, then she might ruin an otherwise festive event. And she wanted to have fun as well. She had been hoping the picnic would lift up her spirits a bit.

Unfortunately, in order for that to happen, she would have had to forget about her problem. It didn't help that she was surrounded by the source of her troubles to begin with.

How long had it been since she had broken up with her boyfriend? About a week, maybe? Perhaps even a little longer than that. They hadn't even been going out for very long either. But it had only taken him a short amount of time before he started criticizing her about working at her grandmother's house. The red-haired teen was certain that he had been embarrassed that she helped take care of imaginary friends, and he was never afraid to tell her about it. He complained often about how she should find a different job and that imaginary friends weren't worth her time. Eventually she grew fed up with his remarks, and their relationship came to a swift end.

Even now, however, the fury she felt towards her ex remained, and being surrounded by all the imaginary friends of the house did nothing to quell it. It wasn't them she was angry at. They all just reminded her of him and the things he had said to her, which did nothing to help her temperament.

After all, he had no right telling her what to do or where to work. She enjoyed helping at her grandmother's house and taking care of all the imaginary friends. She loved working there, and if he couldn't accept that then she didn't need him. Why couldn't he understand that? Why couldn't he just accept that she wanted to keep working there with her grandmother and all the imaginary friends? Why did he have to make such a big deal about it?

The teen inhaled deeply in order to calm herself. There was no use in getting so worked up about it any longer. It was over, and she had to move on with her life. She knew that if she didn't let her frustration go, she might accidentally take it out on someone at the picnic. And it wasn't the imaginary friends' fault that she broke up with her boyfriend, so it wouldn't have been fair for her to do that to them. She would just have to forget about her problem and concentrate on the picnic.

Close by, a surprised cry drew Frankie out of her thoughts. "Hey!" she heard a woman exclaim.

"What? OH!" a familiar voice followed. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Here, let me help you with that…!"

Looking about, the redhead's eyes soon found Wilt, who stood holding a roll of paper towels in his hand over a young woman whose light blue shirt appeared strangely darker around the shoulders and around the neckline. On the ground by their feet was an overturned pitcher of what seemed to be pink lemonade, though only a small portion of the liquid remained. From the way the woman's ebony hair limply clung to her face and the way the lanky friend was profusely apologizing, the teen could easily imagine what had occurred prior to the scene before her.

Soon the woman took the paper towels from the imaginary friend and headed away. As he continued calling apologies after her, Frankie slowly walked over. "Wilt?" she said.

His left eye rattled as he turned swiftly to face her. "Oh, hey Frankie!" he replied. Despite the event that had just taken place, the crimson companion still wore a smile on his face. "What's up?"

She regarded him carefully for a moment before asking, "What are you doing?"

"Oh, well, y'know…" He quickly glanced back in the direction the woman had left for a brief second. "I was just trying to help out. I figured I should do something around here today, y'know?"

The teenager frowned slightly. "That's nice of you, Wilt, but you don't have to. Besides, shouldn't you be with your…?"

The idea to finish the sentence dropped from her mind when she noticed the way Wilt suddenly tried to avoid looking at her, a tight smile drawn on his face. She only needed to watch him for a moment before understanding dawned on her, recalling similar instances twice past.

"You're creator's not here again?" she asked incredulously.

The imaginary friend rubbed the back of his head, his smile faltering ever so slightly. "Nope, sorry, guess not," he replied with a careless shrug. "Sorry, is that okay?"

Frankie's mouth answered before her brain could restrain it. "No it's not okay! That's the third time in a row, Wilt! I don't understand why he – or she or whatever – doesn't ever come! You'd think after all this time…all this time they'd want to come visit you or something! What kind of…?!"

The fuming tirade died on her lips as she caught sight of the helper friend's expression. Gone was the smile – empty though it was – from his face, instead replaced by a frown more upset than before. His good eye was focused away from her, trying to hide the pain that she only ever really saw once every five years…the pain of seeing all other friends with the ones who made them, knowing that his own creator wouldn't show up.

She quickly covered her mouth as though it would help, but she knew that she could never take back the words she had said no matter how she wanted to. She hadn't meant to yell at him like that. It wasn't his fault that his creator didn't show, and he was the one who should have been angry or upset about it, not her. And the things that she had said probably didn't make him feel any better about the entire situation either.

The teenage felt a rather strong desire to slap herself. The exact thing she had tried to prevent somehow crept up on her, and the frustration and resentment towards her ex-boyfriend shoved its way up and out in the form of aggravated surprise at Wilt for his creator's absence. She had snapped at him – not in the way or about the reason she had expected, but she still snapped at him all the same. And the reason for doing so was probably the worse thing she could do, today of all days.

Slowly her hand lowered as she looked up at him. "Wilt…" she began softly, "I'm so sorry. I didn't…"

He suddenly turned to her, a broad grin on his face. "That's okay, Frankie!" he stated cheerfully (a little too cheerfully in her mind). Then he grabbed her hand and began leading her along. "C'mon! There's lots to do today! We better get a move on!"

She opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out as she followed behind the lanky friend, jogging just to keep up and clasping his hand to keep her balance. His tone…his smile…she knew that it was all just for show. She had seen it – the smile – before, and she was very familiar with its pain-filled emptiness, its broken figment of his genuine expression. It was a cover…just like his current actions had become.

Frankie wasn't entirely sure about that last part. After all, Wilt loved to help people, and that's just what he wanted to do now. But there was just something about the way he quickly dragged her along through the crowd of people and imaginary friends that made his attitude seem so rushed…so distracted. She hadn't even had much of a chance to speak with him before he took her along. It felt as though he was in such a hurry to absorb himself in other things so he wouldn't have to talk or think about his creator.

She couldn't exactly blame him, though. Especially if people were only going to make the types of comments she had said to him.

Still, the teenager wondered if it was all right for him to do this…to busy himself with other things instead of talking about it. In the past, she had been guilty of doing it for him; asking him to play with her or asking him to help her with some little chore. But now that she was older, she was beginning to see that perhaps just pushing the problem aside wasn't going to help make it better.

But what could she do about it now? It didn't seem as though he wanted to talk about it, and she certainly didn't want to force him to and possibly make him feel worse than he already did. Maybe all she could do was stay with the lonely friend, and maybe he'd eventually open up to her and talk to her.

She doubted it, really. But she could hope. And it wouldn't hurt to stay with him for the day.

For a moment, she began to wonder if Wilt had ever gotten angry at his creator. Did he ever resent his creator for not showing up at the reunion? Did he ever hate him – or her – for being left alone while all the others got to see their creators? But even as these questions entered her mind, the redhead already had the answer to them.

Wilt could never hate his creator like that. Even if he had been cross about everything, it wouldn't have lasted for very long. That was just the way he was. He could never be really mad at someone who was really important to him for too long.

But then…that just made her feel even worse for him. How could anyone not want to visit an imaginary friend like Wilt? It just didn't make any sense…even now, years after the first time she had seen it occur.

If only there was something she could do about it, something to help him. But she had no ideas this time. And Wilt seemed too busy trying to help out at the picnic to do much else.

Lost in her musings, she had somehow managed to lose track of Wilt. Somewhere along the line, he had released her hand and had hurried on ahead of her. A quick glance around was enough for her to easily spot him, though, and as she caught sight of him, she slowly began making her way to where he stood. Unfortunately, while she continued watching him, she broke into a swift run towards him.

Frankie reached him just as the helper friend realized his mistake. Then the two of them tried to help the unfortunate man dislodge the hotdog from his nasal passage.

Staring at the ceiling, Frankie sighed softly as the memories of those past events drifted through her head. Rubbing her temples, she slowly sat up. She wasn't going to get any sleep soon, of that she was certain.

Carefully she slipped out of bed and crept towards the window, making sure to not wake Mac and Bloo from their sleep. Though after their long, trying trip they had spontaneously embarked on, she wouldn't have been surprised if the two slept through an earthquake. All because they had been trying to find Wilt.

When Bloo had first told them all that Wilt had left, she hadn't believed it at first. Why would he just take off that way? But when they checked the room he shared with the others…seeing all his stuff gone only raised more questions and wondering. Why would he do something like that without saying anything? Like her grandmother had said, it just wasn't like him. He was just gone; no note, no explanation…no goodbye.

She shook her head slightly. 'No,' she told herself. 'Of course there was no goodbye…' Because 'goodbye' sounded too much like forever. If he had said goodbye, it would have felt like he was never coming back. And he was coming back…wasn't he?

'How could this have happened?' she silently wondered. 'How could he have just left like that?' She wished she had the answers. But she hadn't been able to really talk to the crimson companion since the day before the picnic. During the picnic, she was either busy or she hadn't been able to find him. And she had a sneaking suspicion that he had been trying to avoid her for a while. After what happened at the last picnic, though, she could hardly blame him.

There had been one instance all day when the redhead had spotted the tall imaginary friend. When she had started heading towards him, however, she had spied Mac and Bloo making their way over to where he stood as well. And after a brief moment of internal debating, the young woman had then turned and walked away.

She had never been really able to help Wilt feel better during the Creator Reunion Picnic. But she thought then that maybe Mac could. After all, the kid was very intelligent for his age, and he was one of Wilt's best friends. Surely, she had thought, the young boy would have been able to do something to cheer the friend up.

Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be the case. Instead, Wilt ended up running away while they were on a hopeless search to find him.

And for a brief, terrible moment, she entertained the idea that his running away had been all her fault. For the picnics in the past, she had always been right by his side, keeping him company so he wouldn't feel so lonely. A girl without an imaginary friend of her own staying with a friend whose creator never came. Had he become upset when she was too busy to do the same this year? After all, even if he was one of Wilt's best friends, Mac still had Bloo: another imaginary friend whose creator had shown up at the picnic (even if Mac did visit everyday). Did seeing the two of them just make Wilt feel worse? Would Wilt still have run away if she had been able to talk with him and stay with him just like she had before?

She really didn't know. But not knowing still scared her a little. Because without a definitive answer, there was still that chance.

Shivering a little, the young woman sat at the windowsill and stared out into the darkness, recapping their entire trip thus far. If only they had a clue to where he was going. At the bus stop, he had started out with a certain destination, but at his first stop they had to turn around and head another way. That hadn't made too much sense until they finally met up with the family that he had encountered. During their little "rest stop", she had had a chance to speak with the little girl and her imaginary friend, Foofy. And it was from the small bear friend that she learned how Wilt had been helping her reunite with her creator.

Frankie allowed herself a small smile. It was just so like Wilt.

But they never did get any answers about his first destination, the place where he had originally been heading to. And when they had arrived at the train station to where he was supposed to stop, they learned that no one there had ever seen him at all.

Somehow, they had lost him.

So many questions plagued her mind. Where was he at that moment? What was he doing? Was he all right? Where was he going this time? What made him leave in the first place? What was he up to?

Would…they see him again soon?

She sighed heavily, running her fingers through her scarlet hair. "Wilt…" she whispered, "what's going on? Why are you doing this?"

She knew that she would receive no answer. But the silence that the darkness gave her did nothing to comfort her.

Sighing again, she slowly rose to her feet and walked back to her bed. They had been close to finding him. But close just hadn't been good enough. If only they knew what he was doing, maybe they would have had a better chance of finding him. There was no use thinking about it now, though. It was late, and they would have to head back home in the morning. Whatever Wilt was doing…he would just have to do it on his own.

"I just hope he's okay…" she whispered as she lay back down in her bed.

Lying on her side, she closed her eyes to once again attempt to sleep. Memories of certain past events once again filled her head, and as she finally drifted off, her dreams were haunted by their missing friend, wearing that empty smile forced on his face.

A smile that was never really there…

The End

So what did you think? I kind of liked the way it turned out, but how about you guys? Did you like it?

Just letting people know, this wasn't intended to be a Wilt/Frankie story. But for those of you who are fans of the pairing and would like to interpret it as such, by all means go ahead. If you don't like the pairing, or didn't see this story as such, then just ignore what I'm saying.

Anyway, no flames if it can be helped, but reviews would be much appreciated. Thanks! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!