This is a one-shot answer to a challenge posted by darkin520 in the RLt

"Wendy, I need a couple of weeks off." Mooseknuckle hated asking for time off, considering the hectic schedule that everyone else was maintaining.

"Weeks! Look M.K., I might be able to spare you for a couple of days, but weeks is out of the question."

"It's kind of a family emergency. How about one week?"

M.K. watched Wendy as her compassion and humanity struggled to subdue the objections of her boss persona. "What's the emergency?"

"Do you remember my brother? He's in a lot of trouble, I need to go to Minnesota and straighten him out."

"Oh." M.K. could see the surprise flash across the boss's face, "Of course. Take a week. Um..." And there is the unasked question, thought M.K., "I mean, you are the face of the organization, and we need you here, but family comes first, of course."

"Thank you, Wendy." He reached out and scooped Wendy up in a hug.

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The drive to Minnesota was a long one, but air travel was tedious. Every time Mooseknuckle braved an airport he was accosted by his brother's fans. The resemblance wasn't really that strong, but mankind seemed unable to differentiate one antlered mammal from another. Driving was monotonous, but monotony was better than being bombarded with love buckets from somebody else's adoring public.

Frostbite Falls hadn't changed much since he'd left. There were the same mom-and-pop shops along main street, and the overbearing billboard featuring his brother's comedy duo was a little the worse for wear, but still there. He turned off into the parking lot of the only hotel in town: Natasha's Hideout.

"Velcome to my Hideout, vhere sanctuary is standard." Natasha was still a vixen, though with much gray evident in her black hair. "Oh! M.K.? Is that you? You must be here for your brother, yes?"

"Hi, Natasha. Yeah, I'm here to see if I can help him get straight." He set his bag down on the counter and reached back to pull out his wallet.

Natasha reached across the counter to place a hand on M.K.'s shoulder. "Your money is not any good here, yes? I have the pervect room for you. You will stay as long as you need to help your brother."

"Thanks, Natty. Won't be more than few days."

"It is good to be seeing you back in town. It is on the second floor." She was holding out a key attached to a wooden tag labeled 204. No plastic room cards in Frostbite Falls.

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After his meeting with Judge Sherman, M.K. stepped out of the courthouse and made a beeline for Peabody's Pub. He needed a drink before he dealt with his brother face-to-face.

The bar was empty, save for a cute, barely-legal-to-work-here, young lady, that was occupied reading a textbook behind the counter.

"Whiskey, rocks, double." The bartender looked up then, placed her pen between the pages of her text to mark her place, and jumped up from the stool.

"Hello! Welcome to Peabody's. Hey, you look familiar. Do I know you?"

M.K., grunted. Why couldn't she have brought the whiskey before she started with this? "It's not me you're thinking of."

"No, I know you. I'm Shari." At least she's pouring the drink, now.

"Mooseknuckle, everyone calls me M.K."

"It's nice to meet you, M.K." She said as she placed a double whiskey in front of him on a drink napkin. "Ooh! I know now! I've seen you on ! You're from that review forum."

M.K. was in shock. Somebody recognized him for his own work, and not his brother's. He decided that he liked this girl. "Well, yeah. I guess you do know me from somewhere." M.K. couldn't help but smile.

"I love what you do. Here's my pen name, if you want to look at some of my stuff sometime and tell me what you think." She handed him a napkin with dreamgrl09 written on it in purple ink.

"I will, definitely."

He stayed in the bar much longer than he meant to, and drank a few more drinks than he meant to. Meeting a fan of his made up for all of the fans he had ever dealt with who had no idea who he was.

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The climb up to his brother's house was kind of a pain in the moosebutt, but he was buzzing just enough not to mind. As he reached the landing, he took a moment to dust himself off and rearrange his clothes. Satisfied that he was presentable, he entered the lion's den.

And found his brother exactly where he'd expected to: on the floor.

"Bullwinkle, wake up." No response. "BULLWINKLE!" He nudged him with his toe. Nothing.

M.K. walked into the kitchen and searched the pile of filth for the cleanest-looking vessel. He returned to the other room and doused his drugged-out brother. Not for the satisfaction of it, he told himself, but because he was worried about Bullwinkle J. Moose.

"WHAT THE F-..." Bullwinkle was conscious. Step one, check.

"Hi, Bullwinkle."

Bullwinkle stared at him for a long moment, as if willing his eyes to focus.

"M.K.? What the hell are you doing here?"

"It's good to see you too, brother." He could not allow his brother to pull him into an argument.

"So, you've come to gloat? Ecstatic that I'm finally a bigger loser than you? Well don't get used to it. I've got a few projects in the works that are gonna put me back on top, bud."

"Well, according to Sherman, the only projects you have going are finding your next score, and trying not to alienate the last hooker in town that'll still see you."

"Screw off, Mooseknuckle. Go back to your little blog, or whatever, and leave me the hell alone."

"I'm going to go back, but first, you need to pack. You're coming with me." The subject had been broached. Step two, check.

"Like hell I am. I got better things to do."

"Look, I know things have been tough since Rocky died. I would have been here for you through all of it, if you had let me. But now things need to be taken out of your hands. You're a wreck big brother." M.K. sat down on the decrepit cotton sofa, trying not to think of what exactly all the stains and smell were, and looked his brother in the eye, "Whatever you may think, Bullwinkle, you are my brother. I am going to help you the best way that I can."

Bullwinkle was trying, unsuccessfully, "You keep your mouth shut about things you don't know nothing about. You don't talk to me about Rocky. And another thi-"

Bullwinkle never saw the wooden mallet that knocked him out. Bullwinkle was unconscious. Step three, check.

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"Hey, thanks Natty for letting me use one of your old mallets. Worked like a charm."

Natasha smiled "Better for you than ever for me, yes?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I gotta go, he's knocked out in the backseat. They're expecting him at the Betty Ford Clinic, and I want to be well on the way before he wakes up."

"Wait, moosenik." Natasha said, making her way around the courtesy desk. As she neared M.K. she pulled his face close to hers and kissed him long, and wet, and hard. "You will be remembering me, yes? It has been lonely since Boris got locked up, come back soon."

As M.K. got back into the driver's seat, he was smiling from antler to antler.

"Come to think of it, bro," He said to a still unconscious Bullwinkle, "forget the Ford Clinic. I think I'm gonna get in contact with Dr. Drew. Celebrity Rehab may be just the ticket for you."