Call it a mid-life crisis, if you will, but Colin had had enough of the teasing that went on during taping. In fact, he’d started doing something about the one area he could fix – strength and flexibility. No one, not even Ryan knew that Colin had been going to a little out-of-the-way gym and working out with weights. He even had a trainer that was willing to help him develop his strength without toning up too much. Having that little ‘cushion’ of padding came in handy – people were always assuming that he would be the weak link. He’d even taken to wearing loose shirts, similar to Brad’s, to hide any changes. The training had already paid off – he was able to duplicate all of Wayne’s acrobatics in that damned “Instant Replay” game.
As he and Ryan watched Wayne and Kathy act out the sketch, Colin winced. Ryan was praying to get through the sketch without having to be wheeled out in traction. His back had been getting steadily worse over the years, and Colin knew that trying to copy those moves could end up crippling Ryan – possibly for good. As Wayne and Kathy wound up the skit, Colin walked up to Wayne and smiled for the benefit of the cameras. His words weren’t friendly, and he said them so quietly that his mike didn’t pick them up. “You’re a bastard, Wayne!” Wayne just looked at him with that “what’d I do?” look, and Kathy never heard what was said as the two of them returned to their seats.
Ryan fully expected the shorter man to take Kathy’s part, and was completely taken by surprise when Colin held out open arms. A look of “are you sure?” and a level nod “yes” were all it took for Ryan to put himself in Col’s arms. They played the scene out, and when Colin copied Wayne’s acrobatics he shocked the Hell out of everyone – Wayne and Drew included. As the two friends resumed their seats, Drew shook off his stupor and asked, “How’s your back, Colin?” Everyone applauded like crazy when he just smiled that weary little smile he was famous for and said he was fine. So far, no one, not even Ryan had realized how strong he was becoming. Colin felt like a Superhero with a secret identity – sometimes he felt like Underdog (how appropriate was that one -- ”Humble and Lovable”!)… But the notion of keeping this a secret was definitely an ego booster.
After a particularly long taping session, Colin was quietly steaming. The bald jokes just kept coming, and now Ryan – RYAN of all people was zinging him! Sure it was a cheap laugh, but c’mon! No one zinged Drew about his weight all that much… But everyone seemed to think that because he didn’t complain out loud or let on that it hurt that it was all right with him. But it * did * hurt, and Colin planned just how he was going to drive that point home to Ryan. He stewed and plotted, all the while keeping everyone in the dark. He just smiled wanly at the jibes, and waited for his chance.
At the seasons wrap party Colin seemed to drink more than usual, and appeared so drunk that Ryan insisted on playing chauffeur and driving them both home. His head lolled against the window, and he thought about what was going to happen when they got to the house. Oh, there’d be some surprises! A high-pitched giggle escaped his lips, and Ryan shot a quick glance his way.
“Col? You okay, buddy?” “M’all rai… beher-n-all rai…” he slurred the words and giggled again. “I don’t know what got into you tonight. You haven’t been this wasted in a long time! Everything all right with Deb and the rug rat?” “No pahbrums, no worrieszh…” He started breathing deeper, and let his head drop to his chest. “Col? Great. How am I going to get him out of the car? I hope he’ll be with it enough to help me get him inside!”
The trip home from the studio seemed to take forever, but Colin was grateful for the delay as he took a mental inventory of his plan. He could feel Ryan’s eyes on him every few minutes, and through half-closed eyelids Colin kept track of the time glowing on the car’s console. When they were about ten minutes from home, he pretended to stir. “Col?” “Mmmmmm??? Ow!” He swallowed twice audibly and then moaned, “Oh, man, my head! Spinning!” “You’re not going to be sick, are you?” “I don’t think so… I hope not…”
Ryan pulled up into the driveway, and went around to Colin’s car door to help him get out. Colin ‘managed’ to get out of the car on his own, and then swayed into Ryan. “Whoo!” “All right, buddy, let’s get you inside and tucked in for the night.” As he reached for the older man, Colin straightened up suddenly. “I can walk, you know!” he said with wounded dignity, and then spoiled the effect by giggling. “Well, all right, then Pilgrim! Forward, ho!” Ryan put an arm around his waist, and they made their unsteady way to the front door.
As Ryan put his key into the lock, he noticed that there wasn’t a warning light glowing. “Col? Did you forget to set the alarm before you left this afternoon?” (He’s noticed!) “Mmmm…. Dunno, kiddo.” Ryan sighed. “Jeez, you really aren’t yourself tonight, are you! What are you waiting for, me to carry you over the threshold?” (Time to get huffy.) “I don’t need you to patronize me, misht’ Shtiles! I’m gon’ go bed.” He breezed past a bewildered Ryan, swaying gently as he went toward the back of the house.
There was a clicking sound as Ryan tried to turn on the light. “What the? Col, the lights are out! Did we blow a fuse, or something?” He listened for a reply, and heard… was that a thud? “Oh, man! Don’t tell me he’s passed out in the bathroom! Col? Colin?” He raced toward the rear of the house, heart pounding. “Colin? Are you all right? Colin!”
As he entered Colin’s bedroom, everything went even darker. He gasped as a pillowcase was thrown over his head, blindfolding him. Ryan started to fight… but suddenly went still as he felt cold metal press against his side. “That’s much better! We wouldn’t want to wake the neighbors, now would we?” The voice was synthesized, coldly metallic, and had a British accent. “Who?” “Let’s just say that I’m a member of the Folliclely-Impaired Society, Transoceanic Section. You have been a very, very bad boy, Mr. Stiles!” A dog collar was buckled around Ryan’s neck, securing the pillowcase, yet allowing him room to breathe (somewhat) comfortably. “We at FISTS have been watching the other members of the ‘Whose Line’ cast torture Mr. Mochrie for years about his receding hairline. As his partner and chosen companion, we thought that you of all people would be sympathetic to his plight. But lately… lately… have you any idea how deeply you betrayed his trust, his friendship?” The last was hissed, the sound like steam escaping from a pressure valve.
“Put your hands down at your sides, Stiles. Do it!” Again he felt a cold slender cylinder pressed into his side. Ryan felt metal cuffs encircle both wrists. As he tried to resist, the other man’s gloved hand grabbed Ryan by the arm and squeezed until his hand was tingling. He heard the whisper of chain as it was attached to the cuffs behind his back. There was enough slack to keep his hands at his sides, but he found he couldn’t raise his arms more than an inch or two. That infernal metallic voice continued, almost purring as he mused, ”How should you be repaid for your betrayal, Stiles? Shall we remove your hair? Mmmm? No, I think not. That would make you the martyr, and that would never do. Brand you where no one would see?” Ryan trembled slightly and felt the hair rising on the back of his neck as a hand squeezed his butt, and then came down in a hard slap. “But such an action would cause distress to your partner, and that is the one thing we are trying to combat, no?” Ryan’s heart sank as he listened to that robotic chuckle. (My God, this can’t be happening! Is Colin all right? What’s going to happen to me?) “Call me soft, if you will, I think that this little warning may be sufficient. Don’t you?” Ryan flinched at the feel of cold metal sliding down his cheek. His heart pounding, all he could do was nod… and hope that the movement was visible to whoever or whatever was holding him.
“Yes, I think our little tête-à-tête will be enough, for now. But we will be watching you, Stiles. Don’t make me come back, please? Air travel really does not agree with me. Now, come with me. I assume the next room is yours?” “What…what are you going to do?” “I’m going to put you to bed, dear boy!” The giggle Ryan heard was totally inhuman, and he flinched. “Only to bed, not out to pleasure! Tsk, tsk. Such a dirty little mind!”
The man stepped behind him and gave him a small shove toward the door. “Don’t worry about Mr. Mochrie, I assure you that he is unharmed. Although he may have quite a headache in the morning!” He chuckled softly. “Here we are! My, you do have a large bed, don’t you?” He nudged Ryan forward until his thighs touched the edge of the mattress. “Right! Now do be a good boy and lie down on the bed, won’t you? Belly down, if you please, and leave your feet off the edge. Mustn’t dirty the covers!” Reluctantly, Ryan complied. “Comfy?” “Not really, no” he muttered. He felt something being done to his ankles, then the release of his hands as the cuffs were removed.
“Ah, ah, ah!” Again Ryan felt the brush of cold steel. “No sudden moves! Now, just lie still and things will be all right.” The collar was removed, but the pillowcase was left on. “You would be wise not to move for the next hour or so, dear boy! And now, I bid you adieu.”
Ryan heard his door close, and later heard the unmistakable “crump” of the front door being closed. Anxiously he held his breath, as he tried to hear if anyone else was stirring in the house. Hearing nothing, Ryan grabbed the pillowcase and peeled it off his head. Quickly, he rolled over and tried to stand. (What the?) Whoever it was had tied his shoes together! With a muttered curse, he managed to get them off, then rushed out of his room. He flipped the first light switch he came to, and the light came on. He went through the entire house turning on lights and making sure that all doors and windows were now securely barred. Colin! In all the confusion, he’d forgotten the thud he’d heard!
He ran back to Colin’s rooms, heart pounding. He turned the on the light… “Col?” He wasn’t on, under, or beside the bed… try the bathroom? There, tucked safely into the bathtub and snoring softly, lay Colin in all his disheveled glory. Ryan heaved a sigh of relief, then got a blanket and pillow from Colin’s bed and tucked them in around him. “Sweet dreams, Col. Have I got a story to tell you in the morning!” He turned out the lights, but left a nightlight burning in case the older man woke up disoriented. He didn’t notice the small smile that faded as quickly as it came.
In the morning, a pale-faced Colin finally tiptoed into the kitchen. Ryan had already been up for hours, unable to get much sleep. He kept expecting to hear that voice… “Col? How you feeling?” Colin sat down and rested his head on his hands. “What the hell was I drinking last night?” he moaned. “My head feels like it’s going to come off if I move too quickly!” “Want some breakfast?” The older man slowly raised his head and shot a look of utter horror Ryan’s way. “I didn’t think so. So I made you some tea and toast. I hope you can keep them down – and the aspirin bottle is right there by your elbow.” Colin smiled weakly and then said, “Thanks. Ry? Did we go to a party after leaving the party? I had the wildest dream. I dreamed we were back in England! But somehow, the robot from Lost in Space was there, too. And it was driving a tour bus!”
Ryan almost dropped his coffee mug. “Um… Col? We had a visitor last night. Said he was a member of FISTS – some transoceanic society. He blindfolded me, put a collar around my neck, and…” Ryan stopped as he heard Colin’s laughter. “Don’t play games, Ry! Were you drinking after we got home? Oh, man, that is so totally rich! You had me worried when you said a visitor… but a secret society?” Colin stopped laughing, winced, and slogged down a couple of aspirin. “Man! Ow! Don’t you ever dare to tell me a funny story like that when I’ve got a hangover!” Ryan sputtered. “But Colin! It’s true! I’ve even got the pillowcase that he used as a blindfold on me! Look!” He waved a pillowcase in front of Colin. “That looks like one of the pillowcases from your bed, Ryan! You’re always knocking at least one pillow off during the night, and it wouldn’t take much to cause the case to fall off.”
Ryan’s face took on that classic deer-in-the-headlights look he got when someone didn’t believe him. “But, Colin!” “But, nothing. I’m going to take a cab back to the studio and pick up my car. Maybe by the time I get back I’ll be able to think without my head exploding. I don’t want any company right now, so don’t offer to drive me back there, ok?” Ryan reached out and hugged him tightly. “Whatever you want. Col? Have I been a beast lately? Been ragging you too much?” The older man looked up into those worried green eyes and patted his cheek softly. “Maybe a little. It’s hard sometimes to tell what’s a joke when you’re being ganged up on…” “I’m sorry, Col.” A horn blew in front of the house. “Looks like your cab is here. Be careful.”
After picking up his car at the studio, Colin made a single stop at a phone booth in a highway rest area. He punched in a long number, then his credit card number, and waited for the transatlantic connection to be made. “Clive? It’s me, Colin. Yeah, he bought it all right. Between speaking like an Oxford don and using the synthesizer mike, he never knew it was me! And using a socket wrench for the barrel of a gun – he behaved (dropping into a British accent) “like a perfect gentleman, eh wot?” How in the world did you come up with the idea in the first place? ‘Folliclely-Impaired Society, Transatlantic Section!’ Beautiful! And thanks for the tip about using baby powder to look all pale and hung over. Looking in the mirror, even *I* thought I had been drinking too much!” He listened for a while, chatted a little longer, then hung up the phone. He stopped in the restroom, washed off the baby powder, and then gave himself a salute in the mirror. Standing with his hands on his hips, he proclaimed, “And so, our hero, Captain Hair has once again made America safe for balding comedians everywhere!” He couldn’t wait for taping to begin again.