Hell’s Fury
by K

Wayne paced inside his trailer like the wildcat the fans had
adopted as his mascot.  He was muttering something under his breath
the entire time, a paper crumpled in one tight fist.  His laptop
computer was open and still online, but he didn't see it.  "It was all
a mistake, she says."  He kicked a stool out of the way.  "She's not
happy, she says.  She's worried about me, she says."  A lamp was
knocked over when his foot caught the cord.  "She thinks I would be
happier being with the guys!"  He slammed his fist into the
refrigerator, denting it.  "What the Hell is that supposed to mean?" 
A frame with their wedding picture in it hurled across the trailer,
slamming into  the doorjamb - narrowly missing Drew Carey as he
cautiously opened the door.

     "Uh, Wayne?  Is everything..." Drew began carefully backing down
the steps.  "I just wanted to see if you were all right..."  Wayne
turned toward Drew, and the ex-Marine gasped.  Wayne's eyes were
bloodshot and wildly staring.  He looked like Michael Jackson in
"Thriller" - a bigger, beefier, angrier zombied Michael Jackson. 
Sweat streamed off his skin as though he were in a shower.  His hands
were clenched fists, and the knuckles on one hand were cracked and
bleeding.  "She's left me!  Now get the Hell out of here and leave me
alone!"  Wayne made a sound that was part scream, part howl, and threw
a chair at the retreating Drew.  As Drew made his hasty departure,
Wayne spun around on his heel and bolted the trailer door.  The sounds
of destruction continued the rest of the day, until finally Wayne
collapsed exhausted on the remains of his couch.

     The next morning, a quieter, calmer Wayne showed up for the
taping.  He'd gotten his knuckles treated by the studio nurse, and
she'd managed to find dark colored tape to cover the gauze.  At least
it wouldn't be as noticeable under the lights.  Wayne walked over to
"The Trinity" - Drew, Ryan and Dan Patterson - and handed them a
check.  "This should take care of the costs to fix my trailer.  I'm
glad I didn't hurt you, Drew.  Things just got a little out of hand."
Without another word, he disappeared into his dressing room.

     "A little out of hand?" choked Ryan as they surveyed the damaged
trailer.  It looked like a tornado had passed through the trailer...
followed by a herd of elephants... and a SWAT team looking for
terrorists.  Drew pinched the bridge of his nose and winced.  "Man! 
This is unreal."  He looked at the battered refrigerator.  "Remind me
never to make him angry, ok?"  Dan just stood there, white as a ghost.
The atmosphere inside the trailer still held the echoes of Wayne's
rage - he could feel the deadly hatred pulsing off the walls.  "I
think we better have this trailer destroyed - cheaper to get a new
one.  I don't fee..."  Suddenly, Dan bolted out of the trailer. 

     Drew and Ryan were startled by his sudden departure, until they
heard the unmistakable sound of someone throwing up. "Don't ask me
what brought that on!"  Ryan shrugged.  "All I know is that Dan's
never been comfortable around strong or violent emotions.  And
frankly, looking at this and knowing that only one man caused all the
damage in here is making me a little nauseous, too!"  Silently, the
two men left the devastation behind and closed the door.

     By now, everyone at the studio had heard about Wayne, and people
gave him a wide berth that day.  Chip Esten was the 'fourth seater',
and the musical numbers went off smoothly.  Just to be on the safe
side, though, if a solo was needed the guys called on Chip.  They
didn't notice the looks that Wayne was giving him as he performed.

     After the taping, Wayne happened to pass Chip's dressing room. 
The door was partly open, and Wayne heard Chip talking to his wife. 
"I miss you too, hon!  I don't know when I'll be coming home.  Things
are a little strange right now.  Wayne's acting weird, Dan's chugging
Maalox, Drew keeps looking behind him like something might be chasing
him...  Yeah... I love you, too, baby.  I'll call you again tonight."
As he blew kisses into the phone, he never realized that Wayne was
standing behind the door, seething.

     Listening to Chip making lovey-dovey noises on the phone caused
something to snap inside Wayne.  Ever since he'd joined the cast, he'd
always been in competition with Chip.  Esten had always been the
Golden Boy - Wayne envied his easy-going rapport with Dan and the
others.  It wasn't fair!  No matter what else happened, Chip always
came out smelling like a rose...  Wayne had never been jealous of
Colin, Ryan or Greg; they were too old.  Brad was still single (and
let's face it - he was such a flake that *nobody* in their right mind
would want to be like him) and no threat at all.  Drew? Drew was
harmless.  Wayne couldn't imagine him being attracted to anyone for
longer than a couple months.  But Chip?  Chip had a wife who loved
him, a family, friends... and at that moment Wayne was ready to kill
him.  His hands clenched into fists, splitting the knuckles open
again, but Wayne didn't feel the pain.  With his head throbbing, he
stalked back into his dressing room, locked the door, and sat alone in
the dark.  He opened a desk drawer and took out a bottle of spiced
rum.  Usually, he mixed it with something and only had a shot or two.
Tonight he drank it straight.  It burned its way down to his belly
and fanned the spark of jealousy into a raging inferno.

     "I'll get him!   If I can't have a wife and family then he
shouldn't be able to keep his, either!  I was a good Christian just
like Chip, and look where it got me - nowhere.  But if God can do
something like this to me, then the Hell with God!  And the Hell with
Chip, too!"  He took one more swallow of rum before the darkness
claimed him.

Wayne awoke the next morning without a hangover... unless you
could consider his wanting to destroy Chip a hangover from the day
before.  He knew that to do it properly would take time - and ruining
Charles "Chip" Esten was something he wanted to do completely.  He
showered, shaved, and changed clothes, put the bottle back in the desk
(2/3 empty? Wasn't it full the night before?), and went to check the
taping schedule for the day.  They were scheduled to do two shows
today, and fortunately Greg and Brad were to occupy the fourth seat. 
Wayne didn't think he could have handled singing with Chip - he needed
some time to bury his true feelings so the other man wouldn't suspect
a thing.

     This time, the tapings went smoothly.  No one treated him like he
was nuts, and he was able to give the acting performance of a
lifetime.  He seemed like his usual hyper and cheery self, and it
looked like Drew was beginning to loosen up as well.  The shows went
well, but after the second taping Brad stopped by his dressing room. 
"You ok, Wayne?  You seemed a little down - like you were trying to
hard during Greatest Hits.  You wanna go get something to eat?"  (Of
all the people to notice anything!  Damn!)  "No thanks, Brad.  I'm
pretty wiped.  The last couple of days have really been a bummer.  I'm
just going to go back to the hotel and crash."  Brad looked at Wayne
with those sad puppy dog eyes of his, and grabbed him for a big,
sloppy hug.  "Sure thing!  Take care of yourself, man!"  As Brad
bounced down the hall toward the exits, Wayne closed his eyes and
leaned against the door.  (That was close!  I've got to do better than
that if I'm going to be successful.)  Wearily, he packed some clothes
into a suitcase and went to find a hotel room.

     Once he got settled in, Wayne called the studio and left the
number of the hotel.  He wouldn't be needed for tapings the next week,
and he told the studio operator to only call him if there was an
emergency cancellation and they needed someone.  What he really needed
to do was lie in the sun, get drunk, and figure out how to ruin a
man's life.  This was definitely going to take some serious thought.

     How do you go about destroying a man's life and reputation?  What
does he treasure most?  Where are his weaknesses?  Wayne knew that
Chip worshipped his wife, and the feeling was mutual.  How to drive a
wedge between them?  He went to a phone booth away from the hotel and
made several calls.  When the last one was completed, he smiled. 
Perfect!  He'd start things in motion in another week or so when
things were back to normal.  Let them all forget what happened. 
Things would change soon enough.  His lips twisted into something less
than a smile.  "Soon, Esten, very soon!"

Part 2: A Plan Set in Motion

  The assembling of all the items for his plan took almost a month.
During that time, he only worked with Chip once or twice.  Dan seemed
to be rotating people more this season than last.  That was fine with
Wayne - gave him more time to cover his tracks.  He was civil enough
with Chip, but never too friendly.  If anyone noticed, they chalked it
up to his being single again and let it slide.  Being the "damaged"
one was excellent protective coloring.

     At last Wayne was ready.  He wasn't in the taping that day, but
Chip and Greg were.  Wayne timed his call to the studio carefully.  It
was after the taping, and he knew Chip would head for his dressing
room to shower and change before heading out.  He called, and Chip
answered the phone on the third ring.  "Hullo?"  "Hey, Chip!  It's
Wayne.  Listen, are you heading home tonight?"  "Nah, I've got another
taping day after tomorrow.  What's up?"  "Well... I've been seeing
this chick... and... um... would you believe her sister is in town for
a day or two?  Mai Li doesn't want to leave her sister stranded at a
hotel while we go out... Would you mind playing chaperone?  Heck, I'll
even foot the bill for dinner if you do!"  "Well..." Wayne could hear
the hesitation.  He let a little desperation sneak into his voice. 
"Come on, I really like Mai Li, an I don't want to screw this up, ok?
Look, all you have to do is make conversation, have dinner, keep her
sister company, and then drop her off at her hotel room.  That's all.
Please?"  Wayne heard a little chuckle on the other end of the line.
"Well, since you put it that way!  Sure!"

     "Great!  You know where Stefano's is?  Meet us there at nine. 
I'll have a table.  And Chip?"  "Yeah?"  "Thanks, buddy."  As he hung
up the phone, Wayne's lip curled into a sneer.  "See you soon, buddy
boy!"

     When Chip got to the restaurant, Wayne waved him over to the
table.  Sitting at the table were two very attractive Asian girls. 
"Hey, Chip!  I want you to meet Mai Li and her sister An May."  Wayne
had an arm around one of the girls, and Chip shook hands with the
other.  "Pleased to meet you both!  So, Wayne, how long have you been
going out with Mai Li?"  "It's been a couple of weeks now, hasn't it,
baby?"  Wayne nuzzled her neck.  "Way, stop that!"  she giggled
nervously.  Chip was blushing, and buried his face in the menu.
"Umm... shouldn't we order?  I don't know about you, but I'm
starving!"  "Sure thing!  I'm going to talk to the wine steward - I've
heard they have a vintage here that's extra special.  I'll be back in
a minute."  Wayne got up and left Chip with the girls.

     Chip was definitely uncomfortable.  Here he was, a married man,
sitting in a restaurant with two very attractive women, and neither of
them was his wife.  As glad as he was that Wayne had found someone to
help him get over his divorce, he hoped Wayne would return quickly. 
What if someone he knew saw him here like this?  Despite his
misgivings, he chatted with the girls until Wayne returned to the
table.

     Chip was very relieved to see Wayne heading toward them.  He had
a full wineglass in one hand, and a carafe of amber-colored wine in
the other.  "You have *got* to try this!  It's incredible!"  He poured
glasses of wine for the other three, and waited for them to drink.  An
May suddenly began speaking in Chinese to her sister.  "Way, An can't
drink tonight!  She has allergy to something in California, and her
medicine won't mix with alcohol!"  "That's all right, baby!  We'll
finish the carafe, won't we, Chip?"  Chip who was never a heavy
drinker, gulped audibly.  "S-s-sure, Wayne!"  He took a big sip from
his glass.  "Hey!  This is really good!"  The wine had a smoked honey
flavor - sweet, but with a little bit of a bite to it.  He drained his
glass and poured another.  Wayne sipped his slowly, watching.

     As they ate, Chip couldn't help but notice how *good* everything
tasted.  The textures and flavors just seemed to come alive in his
mouth.  "Mmmmmm... Wayne, I've gotta hand it to you - the food here is
awesome!  And the company is exquisite."  He bowed slightly to the
ladies, and was rewarded with a musical giggle.  The conversation
swirled around them, touching lightly on work, friends, the latest
gossip... Chip saluted An May with his wineglass, and then drank.  He
felt a little light headed - maybe the wine *was* getting to him,
after all!  But he didn't feel drunk... It was a different kind of
feeling.  He felt An May's leg brush against his, and almost jumped. 
She looked up at him shyly, and stroked his hand.  Her perfume... Chip
bent toward her to smell her perfume, and his lips brushed against her
hair.  "You smell so good!" he exclaimed, and then blushed.  (What's
going on?  What's wrong with me?)  "Um... Chip?  I don't know if
letting you drive home is such a good idea.  I really didn't know you
couldn't hold your liquor.  I'm sorry, man!  I'll drive back to the
hotel, ok?"

     Chip peered nearsightedly at the carafe, which was almost empty,
and then grinned at Wayne.  "S'okay with me, Wayne!  You're a pal!" 
"Which hotel are you staying at, dude?"  Chip mentioned the name of
one of the larger hotels in the area.  "I stay at same one!  My
company has suite there!"  exclaimed An May.  "Hey, that makes us
neighbors!  Howdy, neighbor!" giggled Chip.  An May giggled back, and
rested her head on his shoulder.  Her hand absently stroked his thigh,
and this time Chip didn't jump.  It felt so good, so right...

     The car ride back to the hotel was pretty quiet.  Mai Li curled
up next to Wayne, who drove one-handed.  He glanced in the rear view
mirror to watch Chip.  The other singer was curled up on An May's
shoulder, nuzzling her neck as she stroked his skin.  "You're so
pretty!  I just can't get over that perfume!  It's driving me wild! 
Mmmmmm... Feel so good."  Every inch of his skin seemed to be more
alive than he'd ever felt before.  An May's touch was electric - he
could feel the sparks dancing on his skin where she touched him. 
Colors seemed brighter, sounds more musical.  A tiny part of his mind
tried to say that this feeling wasn't right, but he didn't hear it. 
He was totally wrapped up in the sensations.

Wayne dropped Mai Li off first, kissed her goodnight and told her
he'd see her again.  While he was out of the car, An May bent her head
down and kissed Chip on his mouth.  The kiss was sweet, long, and Chip
moaned as her tongue found its way into his mouth.  He pulled away,
reluctantly, as Wayne came back to the car.  "Right, let's get you two
back to the hotel, and then I'll call it a night."  Wayne watched the
back seat with suppressed glee.  Between the wine and the tabs of
Ecstasy that he'd crushed into the carafe, Chip was rapidly losing his
inhibitions.  (You'll lose more than that soon, buddy boy!  Oh, yes,
you're about to enter another whole dimension!)

Part 3: Welcome to My Parlor

Wayne parked in the hotel lot, and the three of them made their
way inside.  The ride in the elevator was interesting, to say the
least!  The lights streaking past the glass walls of the elevator were
having an hypnotic effect on Chip as his arm snaked around An May's
waist.  The elevator stopped, and An May invited both of them to join
her in her suite for a final drink.  Chip hesitated for a second, but
when Wayne said "Sure!" he also agreed.

     The suite had been designed for Asian VIP visitors.  The lighting
was soft and low-key; lit candles were everywhere, and the room held
the faint smell of sandalwood incense.  Soft music was playing in the
background, and An May closed the doors to the suite behind them. 
"Welcome to my humble home!  I'll be back in one minute, okay?"  An
May went into another room and closed the door.  "Guess she had to
freshen up, huh?"  Chip grinned at Wayne.  "Wouldja look at this
place?  I've never seen anything like this in my entire life!" Chip
kicked off his loafers and reclined on one of the couches.  An May
reappeared in the room.  Her hair was down now, and it floated around
her shoulders like a black velvet cloud.  Instead of the dress she had
worn to the restaurant, she now wore a silk robe, and her feet were
bare.  She carried a tray with a teapot and cups, and a small
assortment of little cakes.  "Please take."  The tea had a strange,
vaguely bitter taste to it.  "Is ginseng.  You like?"  Chip stroked
her arm through the silk robe.  "I do."  Wayne looked at his watch,
yawned, and said that he really had to be going.  Neither Chip nor An
May noticed him leave.

Wayne didn't go far.  In fact, he slipped into the adjoining
suite.  Inside, several suitcases of electronic equipment were waiting
for him.  A note was propped up on the lid of one of the cases: 
"Everything's set up, each room has several angles to choose from. 
This has been fun!  It's a pleasure doing business with a man who
knows exactly what he wants.  I've got you hooked up to the VCR, and
you can capture shots on the monitor and print them.  Don't worry
about the equipment; I'll be back for it later tomorrow.  Just leave
the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door, and we'll be all set.  Happy
hunting!  J.R."  Wayne flicked on all the switches, checked the
monitor and giggled.  He could see An May and Chip clearly as they sat
on the couch.  Esten had one hand inside her robe and was kissing her,
deeply.  "Oh, yeah, Chippie!  Come on, be a bad boy and say bye-bye to
wedded bliss!"  Wayne poured himself a beer and sat back to watch.

     Chip was in seventh heaven.  He felt fully alive - silk, skin,
hair, tongue - everything felt, sounded and tasted sooo good!  He
pushed the robe off An May's shoulders and began nibbling on her neck.
Her hands tugged at his shirt, unbuttoning it.  Chip paused in his
explorations to help her take it off.  The air felt cool against his
hot skin, and his nipples hardened immediately.  "Mmmmmmm.  Oh, yeah,
baby!" he moaned.  "You like?"  An May fluttered her eyelashes at him
coyly.  "Daddy likes!"  An May giggled, and in one fluid motion
settled comfortably on his lap.  (click)  Her hands played over his
chest tickling and pinching as she nibbled on his ear.  "Oh, yeah!"
Chip tore the robe completely off An May's willing body and moaned. 
She was completely naked before him.  (click)  "Come on, baby!  I want
you so bad!"  With a little smile, An May stood up and unbuckled his
pants.  He raised his hips, and soon the pants joined her robe on the
floor.  "Ah!  Pretty soldier!  Look!  He salutes me!"  An May giggled
and lightly tapped the head of his straining cock.  (click)

     With a low growl, Chip grabbed her by the waist, lifted her up,
and proceeded to slowly impale her.  She straddled him and put her
arms around his neck.  She rocked back and forth, her tongue thrust
into his mouth mimicking his movement inside her.  "Where's the bed?"
he growled.  "I want to do things to you I've never done before!"  An
May gestured toward the bedroom and gasped as Chip picked her up -
still within her - and carried her into the bedroom.

Wayne rotated a few dials, and the scene switched to the bedroom.
He captured the look on Chip's face - eyes half closed, lips parted
and slightly swollen.  He took a couple of shots of Chip carrying An
May into the bedroom as he moved toward the bed.  His body gleamed in
the light of the candles and was reflected in the mirror over the
dresser.  Wayne checked the light meter on the equipment - more than
enough light to capture every Kodak moment.

     Chip set An May on the bed and pulled out of her.  An May moaned
softly in protest.  Chip looked around the room and saw several silk
scarves tossed on the dresser.  His eyes gleamed wickedly as he
grabbed the scarves.  "I've always wanted to see what it felt like
having sex with someone who's tied down!"  Her eyes grew bigger as she
moaned, "Oh, yes!"  He grabbed one of her arms and tied it to the bed,
then repeated the maneuver with her other arm.  He stepped back and
surveyed the scene, critically.  (click)  Vaguely dissatisfied, he
grabbed a pillow and shoved it under her ass, raising it slightly. 
"Much better!"  (click)

     An May squirmed deliciously in front of him.  "Please, Master! 
Do not leave me here alone!"  Her words caused an electric jolt to
rush through his body.  He started at her head, kissing, tonguing, and
kneading her firm flesh.  He nipped at her breasts and was rewarded
with a soft moan as she thrust herself toward him.  He moved further
down her chest, licking and nibbling the silky skin before turning his
attention to her steamy pussy.  He separated her lips and attacked her
like a starving man.  The taste of her was intoxicating as he brought
fingers and tongue to work.  (click)  An May squirmed beneath him. 
The only sounds in the room were her sighing moans and the moist
lapping sound as Chip proceeded to eat her.  "Oh, please!  Want you! 
Please!"  She begged and arched herself into his face.

      Chip growled with pleasure as he pushed her legs open further
and rammed home.  Sex had never been this good before!  This was raw,
hard, and animalistic - no thinking, just pounding, throbbing, and
fiery fucking.  He grabbed her hips and pounded harder and faster.  An
May was making mewling sounds deep in her throat.  The soft cries
excited Chip further, and he practically howled as he came again and
again deep inside her.  He felt her climax, felt her muscles contract
around him as she milked him dry.  As his pulse and breathing returned
to normal, he untied her wrists and kissed each one.  "Baby, you were
wonderful!  But I've gotta go now."  He kissed her deeply again and
gathered up his clothes.  "You come back next time I'm here?"  An May
buttoned Chip's shirt and tucked it into his pants.  "Who can say,
baby?  Who can say?"  With a kiss to her forehead and a jaunty salute
Chip exited the suite and went up to his single room.

     Wayne gathered up the prints, audio and videocassettes and shoved
them into a small carryall that J.R. had so thoughtfully provided.  He
then switched off the equipment and closed most of the suitcases. 
Before he closed the last one, he put an envelope inside.  Tucked into
the envelope were five crisp hundred-dollar bills.  The bonus was well
worth it.  He put the beer bottles into another bag and tossed them
into the garbage on another floor.  Perhaps it was a trick of the
lighting, but anyone who passed by would have sworn that his eyes were
glowing redly.

Part 4: Welcome to Your Nightmare

   Two days later, Chip and Wayne were both scheduled for taping. 
Chip worriedly pulled Wayne aside.  "Um... Wayne?  Did I do anything
stupid at Stefano's?  I really don't remember much of anything at
all!"  "Well, you did get a little tipsy on all that wine... That's
why I didn't let you drive back to the hotel.  Hey, man, if I'd known
how little it took to get you drunk, I would never have ordered a
whole carafe!"  "I just wish I could remember what happened..." 
Chip's voice trailed off as he scrubbed his forehead worriedly. 
"Well, we dropped Mai Li off at her home, and I took you and An May to
the hotel.  She had tea ready for us and we both had a cup...  Look,
you didn't do anything dumb while I was there."  Chip smiled with
relief, clapped Wayne on the back and hurried off to his dressing
room.  Wayne also smiled... but there was nothing friendly about it.

     It took about a month for things to settle back down.  Chip would
occasionally look at him strangely, but never for very long.  Now that
Wayne was dating, Chip felt relieved.  It was strange, but when he
found out about the divorce, he actually worried that they wouldn't be
friends any more!  He knew how much the marriage had meant to Wayne -
and he had heard from Ryan what Wayne had done to his trailer.

     A few days later, a worried Dan Patterson called Chip into his
office.  "Chip?  I received something in the studio mail that I think
you should take a look at.  I'm hoping that it's just a hoax, like
those cut and splice pictures on the Internet, but..."  He handed Chip
an envelope - a large, plain, brown envelope with "Photographs - do
not bend" stamped on it.  Chip opened the envelope, removed the
contents and gasped.  There in living color and 11 X 14... The first
picture was of him with his hand inside An May's robe.  The second was
her, naked, standing before him.  Next was a shot of Chip carrying her
into the bedroom.  The final one was of him having sex with her - and
you could clearly see that her hands were tied to the bed.  "Esten,
please tell me that these are *not* real photographs of you!"  Chip
felt ill as all the blood drained from his head.  "The girl was the
sister of some chick that Wayne is dating.  The four of us had dinner,
and I had too much to drink.  Dan, I don't know what happened!  I
can't remember anything after we had dinner!  Wayne said that nothing
happened while he was there!"  Dan tapped the photos with one finger.
"Obviously, something happened after he left!"  He started to say
more, but Chip bolted from the room into a nearby janitor's closet,
where he proceeded to throw up repeatedly in the deep sink.

     Wayne wasn't surprised when Chip burst into his dressing room,
although he pretended to be.  The other man was wild-eyed.  His face
was chalk-white and he was obviously upset.  "Whoa!  What happened,
Chip?  You don't look so good!"  Chip tossed the envelope at Wayne. 
"This came in the studio mail.  Just what do you know about Mai Li and
An May?  I *knew* something was wrong - sure, I don't drink all that
much, but a single carafe of wine shouldn't have affected me the way
it did!"  Chip was vibrating like a tuning fork.  He stared at Wayne
like a drowning man who sees a lifeline just out of reach.

     Wayne puffed up like a cobra.  "Wait a cotton-picking-minute! 
Listen, Mai Li would never do something like that!  She's a great
girl, and I don't EVER want to hear you talking about her ever again.
And her sister only stayed for two days.  Hell, it's not their fault
if you can't keep it in your pants!"  Chip just gaped at him, mouth
opening and closing like a dying fish.  Wayne decided to twist the
knife a little deeper.  "This looks like something the tabloids would
pay a fortune for - if they didn't take the photos themselves!  Maybe
one of the European ones did this.  After all, aren't you a big man in
Britain?"

     Chip stood there, frozen.  "What are you talking about?" he
gulped.  "Tabloids? You think that a tabloid had something to do with
this?"  He turned a lighter shade of pale and groaned.  "What if they
sent this crap to my house?  I've gotta go!"  He grabbed the envelope
and turned to run out of the room.  Wayne called, "What are you doing?
We've got a rehearsal and taping in less than an hour!  You just can't
leave like that!"  "Tell Dan I'm sorry - he'll understand!  I've got
to get home before the mail comes!"

     Fortunately, Kathy Greenwood lived only a short distance from the
studio, and she just happened to be free that day.  Dan didn't say
much, only that Chip wasn't feeling well and may have caught a flu
bug.

     The rehearsal seemed to take forever, and everyone was feeling
the strain.  Drew looked like a Shar Pei - his forehead had so many
wrinkles in it that he got a tension headache.  He kept taking his
glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose.  Colin, sensing
something was going on behind the scenes, kept nervously glancing at
everyone.  And Ryan?  Wayne stole a look at the tall man.  Ryan had
pulled back into "Zen mode".  Cap'n Giraffe's body was there, but
nobody was home.  He'd come back when called on by Drew, or if Colin
lightly touched him.  Wayne shook his head.  The first time he'd seen
Ryan in trance mode had scared him shitless.  Ryan's skin was cool and
clammy, his eyes partly closed, and he didn't appear to be breathing.
Colin had to hold a mirror to Ryan's mouth to prove to a nearly
hysterical Wayne that he was, indeed, alive.  The Canadian explained
that was how Ryan was able to get through the shows in one piece. 
Between practice games and during commercial breaks when taping he'd
"power down" like C3PO to conserve energy and keep his muscles from
knotting up in pain.  Colin then whispered, "Showtime", and Wayne
watched the life flow back into Ryan's lanky frame.  He shook his head
again at the memory.  You had to admit, he worked with some really
weird people.  Idly, he wondered how Chip was doing...

     Chip drove home like a madman.  Even on the highway where going
faster than the posted speed was the norm, he was really pushing it. 
He swerved in and out of traffic pushing his engine to the max.  He
jumped when the sound of a siren cut through his thoughts.  Evidently
the Highway Patrol thought he was driving erratically - Chip groaned
and pulled over.  The trooper sauntered over to his window.  "Y'll got
any idea how fast you were going?"  "I'm sorry, officer!  I really
don't feel well, and I was trying to get home before I got sick
again."  The trooper looked at Chip - eyes wide and red-rimmed, hair
disheveled and paper-white face.  "It's better to pull over if you're
going to be sick instead of causing an accident, you know!  I'm still
going to write you up.  But I'll only put in the speeding part - not
reckless endangerment.  Y'all try and keep closer to the speed limit
now, ya hear?"  He handed Chip the ticket and walked back to his
vehicle.  Chip moaned.  "Great.  Just lovely!  30 miles over the speed
limit?  Man, my premiums are gonna go through the roof!"

     Chip looked at the time as he left the highway and groaned.  The
mailman had, in all probability, already come and gone.  He prayed
that he'd get to the day's mail before his wife did.  "God, I don't
understand any of this!"  He pulled into his driveway and ran to
the mailbox.  Empty.  "Please let this be the one day the mail comes
late!"  The house was silent as he opened the door.  Sitting on the
console table in the hall was the day's mail.  Tossed on top of the
pile, a large brown envelope - opened.  "Oh, God..." 



Part 5: A Friend in Need

     He checked the answering machine.  Flashing.  With a trembling
finger, he hit 'play'.  Chip heard his wife's voice.  "Chuck?  By now
you've seen the mail."  (Her voice thickened with tears.) "Who was
she, Chuck?  I'm praying that this was only a one-night mistake and
not a long affair.  I've taken the kids and we're going to stay with
my parents.  Don't call there - I've told dad I don't want to talk to
you right now, and they have caller ID.  I need to be alone for a
while to think things through.  Give me some time, Chuck.  God help
me, I still love you!"  With a sob, she hung up the phone, severing
the connection.  He stared at the machine in horror and slid slowly
down the wall.

     Chip had no idea how long he sat there - at some point he must
have blacked out, because one minute the sun was shining, and now the
entire house was dark.  The phone was ringing, and he grabbed for it.
"Ng?"  "Um... is this the Esten residence?"  "D-d-drew?"  "Chip?  Is
that you?  Jeeze, Dan told me what happened.  Are you all right?" 
"Sh-she's gone, Drew!  Sh-she d-d-doesn't want to see me!  Took the
kids and... and..."  He dropped the phone and ran to the bathroom as
wave after wave of nausea and dizziness hit him.  Chip tried to
convince himself that this was all a bad dream - that he would wake up
in bed with his wife and they'd both have a good laugh.  There was
something unreal about everything that had happened - he had no idea
how anything like this could be happening!  He closed his eyes and
rested his forehead against the cool porcelain.

     A cool washrag was gently rubbing his forehead and cheek, and a
strong arm was trying to lift him up.  "Who?"  "Man!  Did you know
that your door was wide open?  Anyone could have come in here!  When
you dropped the phone you scared the shit outta me!"  Strong arms
circled his waist and tugged.  "Come on, help me out here - can you
stand?  We need to get you cleaned up, so don't you *dare* pass out on
me now!"  Drew managed to get Esten to his feet, and then picked the
smaller man up as he swayed.  "I've never seen anything like this. 
You haven't done something stupid like taking an overdose of
something, have you?"  Chip gulped, closed his eyes, and shook his
head no.  "Well, that's something, anyway.  Which way is your
bedroom?"  Chip shuddered.  "Not there.  Put me in the spare room - I
can't face her things."

     Drew carried him into the room he'd pointed to, and worriedly
looked down at Chip on the bed.  The young actor had curled up into a
fetal position and was shaking like a leaf.  Drew removed his shoes,
unbuttoned the top buttons of Chip's shirt, and covered him with a
quilt.  The trembling didn't slow down, and now the younger man's
teeth were chattering as well.  "Aw, man!"  He knew enough about first
aid to recognize the fact that Chip was deep in shock.  Drew pinched
the bridge of his nose, kicked off his own shoes, took off his shirt
and climbed onto the bed next to Chip.  He got under the quilt and
pulled Chip's unresisting body close to his in an effort to stop his
shivering, and wrapped both his arms around Chip tightly.  Soon, his
entire body was curled around Chip's and he dozed off uneasily as Chip
vibrated helplessly against him.

     It was late morning when Drew awoke with a start.  For a moment,
he looked around blankly...  Then the events of the previous night
came flooding back.  He looked down.  Chip was still there, breathing
quietly as he slept.

     Some time during the night he had broken through into normal
sleep.  The trembling had stopped, but Drew could see the aftermath of
that terrible shock written in the lines on that sleeping face.  Gone
was the happy-go-lucky, forever-young boy.  Chip looked his age now,
if not older.  Drew sighed unhappily.  He had no idea if that carefree
golden boy would ever come back.  And if he didn't... He grimaced,
angry at the way his thoughts were going.  (Stop it!  The important
thing is to get Chip through this in one piece.  We can worry about
the show later.)

     Drew didn't want to disturb Chip, but Nature was calling rather
insistently.  He slowly lifted his arm off the other man's shoulder,
freezing in place as he stirred and then settled back down.  His other
arm was between them and Drew cautiously, slowly, moved backward on
the bed breaking body contact an inch at a time.  Chip slept on.  Drew
scrunched out from beneath quilt and tucked it in around the sleeping
body.  Finally free, he tiptoed out of the bedroom, quietly closed the
door, and padded down the hall to the bathroom.

     The blinking light on the answering machine beckoned to him on
his return from 'the facilities'.  Drew felt like a voyeur, but told
himself that he was justified in playing the messages - what if the
studio called?  He listened in shock to the sobbing message, and
picked up the brown envelope.  After looking at the top picture, he
shoved it back in, quickly.  He dropped the envelope back on the
console table and scrubbed his hands on his pants.  Drew shuddered. 
No wonder Chip looked like hell!  (Who could do something like this? 
It's so freakin' evil!)  Clicking the 'delete' button to erase the
tearful message helped somewhat - he didn't want Chip playing it over
and over... In his current state, it might just drive him to do
something really stupid.  Drew picked up the envelope by one corner,
opened the console drawer, dropped the damnable thing inside and
closed the drawer quickly.  It was a temporary measure, but it would
keep anyone who came into the house from seeing Chip's humiliation. 
Drew's fingers burned and itched, whether from something on the
envelope or some purely psychological reason didn't matter.  He
hurried back to the bathroom and scrubbed his hands until they were as
red as his face.  (If only there was a way to scrub something out of
your mind as easily!)

     Drew went out to his car and got his travel case, a holdover from
his comedy store days.  A standup comedian never left home without one
- shaving kit, a couple of shirts and tees, some pairs of socks and
shorts and a pair of jeans (dressy pants for the act, jeans to relax
in later).  He returned to the house, checked the answering machine
for new messages, and took a shower.  After everything that had
happened, he doubted that he'd ever feel clean again!

     When he got out of the bathroom he checked on Chip again.  There
was no movement as he opened the door; it was as if the bed was empty.
Drew entered the room holding his breath.  (God, please don't let him
be dead!)  The room was eerily silent as he approached the small pile
of crumpled quilts on the bed.  He stretched out a shaking  hand,
unsure of what he was going to find when he lifted the covers...

Part 6: I’ll Stand By You

     The sound of a gasping breath filled the room.  At first Drew
couldn't tell if the sound had come from himself or not, but when the
pile of quilts moved...  He felt weak with relief (Thank God!) and
sank down on the edge of the bed.  "Drew???"  Chip's eyes were puffy
from sleep and unshed tears.  "Right here.  How do you feel?"  He
stroked Chip's back in an effort to comfort the younger man.  "I feel
like I died and went to Hell, Drew!  Why is this happening?  None of
it makes any sense!"

     "I know, man.  I erased the tape and the envelope has been put
out of sight.  You haven't received a blackmail note, have you? 
Because this feels like it's only the beginning..."  Chip's face lost
its color as he moaned and then burst into tears.  (Way to go,
Carey!  Give him another reason to freak, why doncha?)  "Aw, man! 
Hey, I didn't mean...  Chip, hey, come on!  You'll be all right...
Shhh..."  He pulled the smaller man into his lap and rocked back and
forth.  Chip sobbed as though his heart was breaking as Drew held him
tightly.

     It felt comforting to be held like that.  Chip's sobs slowly died
down.  He sniffled once or twice and wiped his eyes and nose.  "I'm
sorry, Drew!  I'm such a baby..."  "It's okay.  You've been under a
lot of stress and something had to give before you broke."  Drew
looked down at his now soaked shirt and grinned wryly.  "Looks like I
need a new shirt, though."  "Sorry, Drew!"  "Never mind - let's get
you cleaned up.  A bath will do you a world of good.  Can you stand?"
Esten eased off Drew's lap, sat on the edge of the bed and tried to
stand.  "Dizzy!"  The burly comic pushed him back onto the bed.  "Ok,
let's get you down to your skivvies and I'll help you get into the
tub."  Off came his shirt, then his socks... Drew undid his pants and
pulled them off.  Chip protested weakly.  "Hey, it's not like I
haven't seen anything like it before!  Or don't you remember we've
both got the same equipment?"  Drew grinned as he scooped Esten up in
his arms and walked down the hallway to the bathroom.  "Look.  I'll
drop you off, start the tub filling, and be back with clean clothes in
time to help you get in.  You're not gonna pass out on me in the tub,
are you?"  Chip sighed.  "I'm ok.  Feels like I've had the flu or
something, but I'm ok.  I think."  "With all the hurling you've done
in the past two days, no wonder you feel like you had the flu!  Part
of the problem is that you need to eat something - when did you last
keep anything down?"  The younger man shook his head.  "I don't want
to even think about eating!"

     They made it to the bathroom, and Drew filled the tub.  He
returned to the master bedroom, got out a pair of sweat pants, shorts
and a tee shirt from Chip's side of the closet.  He took them back to
Chip and returned to the bedroom.  He took out a selection of dressy
and casual shirts, chinos, jeans and anything else he could think of
and moved them into the spare room.  He made another trip to collect a
couple pairs of shoes, some ties, and a toiletry kit that had been in
the master bath.  Drew closed the door to the master suite tightly,
and moved a little table from the end of the hall to block the door. 
He didn't want Esten to go into that empty room while he was as
fragile as he was right now.

     Returning to the bathroom, Drew was surprised to see the door
open as Chip walked out fully dressed.  "I.. um, moved some of your
stuff into the spare room for you."  Esten smiled a little sadly and
said, "Thanks, Drew.  You're right - I can't go into that room... You
know something, though?  I think I could eat a little now."

     They both made their way into the kitchen, and Drew turned into a
domestic goddess.  He opened cabinets until he found the cinnamon and
nutmeg, Texas Toast, a soup bowl, and then he went to the fridge for
milk.  "My mom used to make this for me when I didn't feel good."  The
bread went into the toaster and the milk went into a saucepan.  He
added a few drops of vanilla to the milk while it heated.  After the
toast was done, he broke it into small pieces and stirred the chunks
and the spices in the soup bowl.  Once the bread was all coated, he
poured the warm milk over the top.  "When you talk about comfort
foods, *this* is the ultimate!"  He set the bowl in front of Chip and
made him a glass of chocolate milk.  "Now, eat!"  "Yes, Mom!"  He took
a cautious bite, rolled it around in his mouth and swallowed.  "Hey,
this IS good!"  Drew was happy to see every drop disappear.  It looked
like 'the kid' would be ok for now.

     "Look, tell Dan that I need the week off, ok?  I honestly don't
think that I could face anyone other than maybe you and Colin right
now.  And apologize to Wayne for me, please?  I was pretty shitty to
him.  For a second, I thought he might have known something about this
whole mess... Stupid, huh?"  Drew just sat thinking.  (Wayne?  Nah, he
couldn't!  Would he?  Could he?  He has the temper... But this?)  He
shuddered as a chill coursed down his back.  Destroying a trailer is
one thing, but destroying another human being?  "You gonna be ok on
your own until then, dude?"  "I'm sure.  And I've got your cell phone
number as well as Colin's, and I promise to call if I need anything. 
I just need to be alone to try and sort this whole mess out.  Nothing
is adding up - and I need to concentrate on getting my family back,
too."

     Drew gathered his things, re-stuffed his bag and opened the front
door.  Dropping the bag, he turned around and hugged Chip, tightly. 
"You take care of yourself.  And remember, if you need anything -
anything at all, call me!  Or call Colin.  Call anyone - just don't
try to do every thing yourself, ok?"  "Sure.  And thanks for
everything."  He returned the hug and shut the door as Drew left. 
This time he remembered to lock up.

     When Drew returned to the studio, almost everyone had a million
questions for him.  Colin and Ryan wanted to know if he had let Chip
know he could call if he needed to talk.  Dan wanted to know if there
were any new developments.  Kathy wondered if bringing her mom's
famous chicken soup to his house would be a good idea.  Wayne was
curiously quiet - too quiet - and stayed off to the side, watching. 
Something about his silence caused the ex-Marine's scalp to crawl.  (I
really don't like what I'm thinking..."

Part 7 Waiting for the Other Shoe to Drop

     Things settled down.  Nothing was normal (could they ever be
normal again?), but at least there was a sense of the familiar and a
kind of routine was established.  Chip returned after a week of 'sick
leave', looking worse for wear, but still able to sing.  He was
thankful that the stress hadn’t settled in his vocal cords - with
everything else that he'd lost; the thought of being completely
speechless terrified him.  Whenever he was on the set Esten was never
alone - Drew, Colin or Dan was always nearby.  Although it was a
little odd, it also felt comforting to know that someone was watching
out for him.

     Chip's family was still living at his in-laws, but at least they
were talking on the phone.  He knew that it would take some time for
Patty to trust him again, but their marriage was worth waiting for. 
He'd even talked to Pa, and his father-in-law agreed that something
didn't add up... but he also warned Chip to stay away until his little
girl decided the time was right.  (Her mother *still* wasn't speaking
to him.)

     Throughout this time, Wayne was content to let things stay the
way they were.  Knowing that the others were treating Esten like an
invalid and keeping such a close eye on him was annoying, but
tolerable.  They weren't on the same taping schedule, and that made
being civil to the 'golden boy' a lot easier.  This was a lot like
playing with horseflies when he was a kid!  Wayne used to catch the
big black flies and play with them before doing his 'experiments'. 
He'd let them get used to being caught and then pull off a wing and
let them free.  If they were promising, he'd catch 'em again and take
a leg or two off the other side.  He sighed.  Such a happy, carefree
childhood...

     It was time to stir up the action again.  Wayne made a couple of
phone calls and set up a meeting.  The person that went to the meeting
didn't look at all like the Wayne Brady everyone knew and loved. 
Sometimes working in television was a real pain, but at least it gave
you access to all kinds of professional quality disguise materials! 
He darkened his skin color to a deep ebony, flattened his nose
further, and added a thin moustache and tightly curled conservative
'fro with a different hairline.  The finishing touch was a pair of
amber contact lenses.  The outfit he chose consisted of a creamy
tropical shirt and khaki pants that made his skin look even darker.  A
single gold chain went around his neck, and a gold hoop went into one
ear.  He looked in the mirror and smiled.  The person that smiled back
at him was a stranger, and that stranger looked lethal.  For a
finishing touch, he took a gold cap and stuck it over one of his
canine teeth and smiled again.  He gathered the materials he needed
into a slim portfolio and got into his rental car.  Mr. M'Butu was
ready for action.

     Anyone who was watching would have seen M'Butu meet a rather
small colorless man in a dark tavern.  After a rather lengthy
conversation, the portfolio was passed over the table.  The contents
were examined, removed, and placed into a briefcase.  An envelope was
removed from the briefcase, placed in the portfolio, and handed back
over the table.  The envelope's contents were examined carefully: 
thirty well-used hundred-dollar bills. 

     M'Butu grinned wolfishly, light gleaming on his gold tooth as he
nodded.  "How soon?" he growled thickly.  "Within a week."  M'Butu
nodded.  "Very good!"  The little man shivered as he watched the black
man leave.  He was extremely thankful that this M'Butu chap wasn't
after him.

     Wayne/M'Butu drove to the airport, returned the car to the rental
agency, and entered the international airport.  Showing a ticket, he
moved briskly toward the gates.  He reclaimed a bag from a nearby
locker and entered the men's room.  Entering a stall, he opened the
bag and took out a paper sack.  Off came the wig, moustache, nose
plugs and contacts, which he put into the paper bag to be tossed in
the trash.  He used theatrical cold cream and returned to his normal
skin color.  The chain was tucked into a pants pocket, the earring and
tooth cap were flushed down the toilet in a wad of paper.  He removed
the shirt and hung it on the hook in the stall (someone will take it)
and put the envelope into a money pouch around his waist.  He put on a
polo shirt, flushed the toilet again, and left the stall.  Wayne Brady
stopped at the sinks to wash his hands and face, and tossed the
crumpled paper bag into the trash.  Stopping at a lost and found
kiosk, he turned in the now empty portfolio.  It had no identifying
marks on it, and would probably be sold at the end of the year as
unclaimed baggage.  Wayne sauntered out of the terminal and picked up
his car from the parking lot.  As he left, he tossed the cheap bag
into a dumpster.  Things would get interesting very soon!  He wondered
how Chip would react when his wings were pulled off...

Part 8: Back into Hell

     About a week later a package arrived in the mail from overseas. 
Although addressed to Dan Patterson, the instructions inside the
first layer asked that Drew and Chip be present when the inner
envelope was opened.  Dan had a feeling that this was not just a case
of old friends chatting about old times... He recognized the spiky
handwriting and winced.  If *HE* was concerned about something, they
really had problems!

     He called Drew, Chip and Ryan into his office (as a producer,
Ryan had a right to know if there was trouble ahead), and stationed a
security guard outside the door to prevent any disturbances. 
"Gentlemen, I just received this from London.  My instructions were
to read this note to you:  'Danny Boy, I just picked up the latest
edition of _The East End Tattler_.  There is a rather disturbing
article about some of your boys starting on page 12.  Haven't a
bloody clue as to how this ended up on our side of The Pond, but
thought you should know.  Hope to see you during hiatus.  Toodles,
Clive.'"

     Sandwiched between cardboard and wrapped in waterproof bags was
a tabloid paper.  It reminded Ryan of 'The Globe' or 'Examiner' - the
kind of rag that claimed to have pictures of a still-living JFK
talking with President Clinton.  Chip groaned.  The banner headline
that splashed across four pages read, "Whose Love is He, Anyway?" 
("It seems that 'Whose Line Is It Anyway' alumnus Charles "Chip" Esten
is ambi-sextrous as well as ambidextrous!  My, my!  If variety is the
spice of life, then this young man's life must be as hot as a
three-alarm Thai curry!")  There, in living color, were Chip's wedding
picture, two close-up and wide shots of Chip and An May, and... Drew
gasped.  There were pictures of him carrying what appeared to be a
completely naked Chip in his arms... A picture of the two of them in
bed and under the covers - his bare arms clearly around the other
man... Drew in an apron with a bowl in his hands ("After a night of
passionate romping, the 'little missus' prepares a hearty breakfast
for the man of the house.")... And a shot of the two of them hugging
on the doorstep ("Isn't he romantic?") was the piece de resistance.

   "What the hell?"  Drew was completely flabbergasted.  He looked at
the others worriedly and scrubbed his face with both hands. 
"Contrary to the captions, nothing went on that night!  I had called
Chip after you told me what happened, Dan, and when he dropped the
phone and didn't pick it back up I went to his house.  The doors were
wide open, anyone could have got inside.  Hell, you saw the condition
he was in when he left here - he was sicker'n a dog and so deep in
shock when I got there I was afraid to leave him!  Yeah, I got into
bed with him - he was shaking so bad that I thought he'd rupture
something!  And he was wearing shorts when I carried him to the can...
I *know* there wasn't anyone in the house but us!"

     "Obviously, you two were set up."  Ryan's calm voice sliced
through the tension in the room.  "The only question now is HOW did
they get those pictures?  It wouldn't be that hard to set up
surveillance cameras if you had access.  If the doors were wide open
from the time Chip got home until Drew got there, anyone could have
gotten in..."

     Dan made a phone call.  "George?  Dan Patterson here.  Could you
do me a bit of a favor?  I want a full sweep done of a house - top to
bottom."  He gave the mysterious 'George' Chip's address.  "The owner
is here with me, and you have his permission.  Pop round if you find
anything - I'll be here at the studio, and there will be a pass
waiting for you at the gate."  He listened a little while longer
before hanging up the phone.  "Right!  That's all we can do for right
now.  George is tops in his field - if there's anything to be found,
he'll find it. All we can do now is wait."  He and Drew sat with heads
almost touching as they tried to figure out what to do next.

     "Well whether he finds anything or not, we're going to have to
let the studio lawyers in on this.  We can't do much about something
published in England, but we can go after any tabloids here that try
to pull the same stunt."  Ryan was busily writing down everything that
had happened so far.  "Chip, I think you should let your father-in-law
know what's going on so he can screen the mail before anyone else sees
it.  Chip?"  Ryan glanced over at Esten.  "Oh, shit..."

     His muffled curse caused the other two producers to look up. 
Chip sat in his chair, eyes closed, arms wrapped tightly around
himself, rocking back and forth.  His face was pale and
expressionless, and he was unresponsive to sound or touch as Ryan
wrapped an arm around his shoulders.  "Dan, get the studio doctor down
here, fast!  Drew, call Chip's father-in-law and let him know
everything that's happened.  He's going to have to break the news to
the wives, too."  "What's his number?"  "How the hell should I know! 
His address book is in the desk in his dressing room if the
information isn't in his personnel record."  Ryan pulled a chair in
front of Chip and took hold of his face, gently.  The young man never
missed a beat as he rocked back and forth, back and forth...  "Chip? 
Can you hear me?  Come on - don't shut us out!  You've got people here
who need you - think of your kids.  They need you!  You can't shut
down like this!  Chip?"  There was no response - it was as if there
was no one else in the room as he continued to rock.

     The security guard opened the door for the doctor, and Colin came
in with him.  They both went over to Chip - the doctor moving to the
front to examine him, and Colin moved behind him to hold his shoulders
in an effort to stop his rocking.  "How long has he been like this?" 
The doctor gently peeled back an eyelid and flashed a light (reactive,
but slow to respond), and repeated the procedure with the other eye. 
He checked body temperature with an ear thermometer (low/normal),
checked blood pressure (extremely low) and pulse (thready).  He made a
call on his cell phone.  "Send an ambulance over STAT - and inform the
hospital that we will need a neurologist when we get there."  He
turned to the others in the room.  "He seems to have gone into a
catatonic state - but we'll need to do some tests to rule out any
other causes.  Are any family members here?"  Drew shook his head. 
"No, but I'm calling them right now - which hospital are you taking
him to?"  The doctor named a hospital and then said, "Tell them to go
directly to Admitting.  This young man isn't going to be going
anywhere for quite some time."

     An unresisting Esten was lowered gently onto a stretcher.  His
arms were straightened out and tied by restraints to the side rails. 
He continued to rock, sideways now, even when an IV drip was inserted
into his arm.  There was no reaction - no flinching, no sound - as the
large needles were inserted.  After a hasty conference, it was decided
that Colin and Ryan would follow the ambulance to the hospital, and
Dan and Drew would await further news from the mysterious George.  Drew
sighed unhappily.  It looked like a long day was going to get even
longer.

Part 9: Meltdown

 At the hospital, Ryan and Colin supplied some of the information 
needed to admit Chip while they waited for his wife to appear. She 
ran up to them, sobbing. "What happened? Where's Chuck? No one will
tell me anything!" Ryan flinched away, but Colin gathered her into 
his arms. "Someone sent more 'pictures' to the studio. He's been 
really vulnerable since this started, and knowing that someone out 
there was stalking him and hell-bent on destroying his reputation and 
your marriage... well, he couldn't handle it. He's shut down - he 
moves when you move him, but nothing is getting through. You know how
queasy he gets around needles? He didn't even move when they put the 
IV in." Her knees grew weak, and Colin carefully lowered her onto a 
chair. "I'm all right. Mom and Dad have the kids, and I'm not going 
to leave here until I know Chuck's going to get better. He will get 
better, won't he?" Ryan looked up from the admission's clipboard 
(Will he?) and spoke. "The doctors are examining him now. We need 
your help to get the admitting papers filled out. Does he have any 
allergies to foods or drugs?" Supplying answers to familiar questions
seemed to calm her down, and the paperwork was completed quickly. She
blew her nose, wiped her eyes, and said "Thank you for being here, 
guys. It means a lot to me, and I know that Chuck feels the same 
way."
 
 It was six o'clock before the mystery man Dan Patterson had 
called showed up at the studio. Drew was finishing off a sub he'd 
ordered from the commissary, and Dan was picking at a Cobb Salad that 
he really didn't want. George strolled into the office with a small 
case in his hand. "Well, Mr. Patterson, you were right. That house 
was wired to the gills!" He dumped the case on Dan's desk. "Video 
cameras, audio pickups, phone tap... The perp took the kitchen shot 
through the large dining room window. I found tripod marks at the 
edge of the property. A telephoto lens catches even the tiniest 
details." Drew frowned and rubbed the back of his neck to ease the 
tension. "So, is all this stuff 'over-the-counter' or do you have to 
buy it from a special place, or what?"
 
 George frowned disapprovingly. "If you mean, can anyone just 
walk off the street and buy these things, the answer is usually no. 
This little baby here (he pointed to one of the cameras) only came out
a year ago. Very pricey. But some of this stuff could have come from
your local neighborhood electronics store, and anyone could get their 
hands on it. My opinion? You've either got a talented amateur with 
money to burn and some TV and/or theatrical experience; or you've got 
a pro who's been hired by someone with that background. I haven't 
touched any of this stuff with bare fingers. If you turn this over 
to the police, my prints won't be on any of them - and with luck the 
sicko who did this has prints on file." Dan got out his checkbook, 
filled out a check and handed it to George. "Standard rate for a 
sweep, plus a little something extra for such prompt and thorough 
attention." George looked at the amount, pursed his lips to whistle, 
and decided not to. "Always a pleasure, Mr. Patterson!" He pulled 
on a pair of latex surgical gloves and replaced the equipment in the 
case. "Remember, don't touch anything inside the bag without rubber 
gloves on!" He set three pairs of gloves on the table and turned 
toward the door. At the threshold, he turned and said, "Be seeing 
you!"
 
 Drew looked at Dan and sighed. "So, what now? Do we take all 
this, including the photos and the tabloid to the cops or sit on it?" 
 Dan looked back at him, sadly. "I think we need to wait to hear 
from the hospital first. If things are as bad as I think they are, 
we'll go in the morning. But what's the charge? Blackmail? Stalking? 
Attempted murder?" He put his head in his hands. "Murder? What if 
Esten never gets better? What price do you put on a human life?" The 
two men looked at each other like castaways in a leaky life raft who 
had just seen the first shark.
 
 Neither man wanted to leave the studio until they heard from the 
hospital. They sat in uneasy silence, each wrapped up in their own 
thoughts. Finally, Drew couldn't stand it any longer. "I really 
don't know if this has anything to do with what's going on. Right 
now, all I've got is a gut feeling. And I don't know... I don't want 
to believe it, but..." "Oh, for God's sake, Carey, spit it out! If 
you know anything that can help Esten, talk!"
 
 Drew winced and rubbed the bridge of his nose before talking. 
"That day at Chip's house he told me he had suspected Wayne of having 
something to do with the first set of photos. He laughed it off, but 
I'm not so sure. I've been reviewing the tapes from the day after the 
trailer got trashed. The way Wayne was looking at Chip gives me the 
willies - his eyes look like Charles Manson's... or maybe Rasputin's. 
 And it's only when he's watching Chip that he has that look on his 
face. And when I came back to the studio after spending the night 
with Chip, everyone asked about him - except Wayne. It was like he'd 
already known what all the fuss was about. I hate thinking this way! 
I know he's got a temper that he keeps mostly under wraps, but to do 
something like this he'd have to be either criminally insane or 
possessed! But why? Why would he do something like this?"
 
 "What could Esten have done that was so bad as to warrant this 
kind of retribution?" Dan shuddered. "I don't doubt that Wayne is 
capable of killing someone whether directly or indirectly. The energy 
he left in that trailer convinced me of that. I believe he's been 
jealous of Chip since their days in England. Esten was the first of 
the 'young bloods' to get on Whose Line. He's been a successful actor 
and singer for many years, his marriage is solid, he has children to 
carry on his name, he's well-liked and respected... Wayne has had to 
struggle to get work, his wife has left him, and he's never had any 
children. They say that envy is one of the deadly sins - I just pray 
that envy won't be the death of Chip Esten!"

Part 10: I Say a Little Prayer for You

     It was several hours later that a doctor came out to talk to
them.  Ryan nudged Colin, who had fallen asleep, and they all waited
anxiously for the news.  "We have him stabilized.  On the plus side,
he is breathing on his own, and the CT scans show no sign of a stroke
or aneurysm.  He is still in a cataleptic state, apparently brought on
by sever emotional trauma.  How soon, if ever, he'll make it out of
that state is another question - we just don't know enough about this
type of disorder."  Chip's wife swayed, got a grip on her emotions,
and asked, "When can I see him?"  "You can go in right now, if you
like.  He won't respond to the nursing staff, but you might be able to
get through to him.  If he doesn't start responding within a week, I'd
like your permission to install a feeding tube.  He doesn't seem
willing to open his mouth, and IV feeding will not be enough to keep
him alive."

     Ryan grew pale.  (God!  Look, I know I'm probably the wrong one
to ask this... I know I'm not a very good person.  But don't you think
you've done more than enough of 'Job 2 - the Sequel' with Chip?  He's
truly one of the good guys; he's probably the best person I know!  He
doesn't deserve this, and neither does his family!  So, can't you give
him a break?  Please?)

     Patty was pale and shaky, but spoke to the doctor in a firm
voice.  "Thank you.  If he needs the feeding tube, if there's even the
smallest chance that buying him time could help him come back to me...
do it when the time comes.  I have to believe that he's going to come
back to me!  I can't even think otherwise!"  Her chin trembled as she
turned to Colin and Ryan.  "Please come in with me?  I want him to
know that his friends care, too."

     Silently, the three entered the room.  (The studio, thank God,
had sprung for a single - the thought of Chip in with a roomful of
strangers was too much.)  The lights were dimmed, but you could
clearly see the bed, which was in a semi-upright position.  Chip wore
a hospital gown, and the covers were pulled up to his waist.  His eyes
were still closed, his mouth pursed tightly like a little kid who
doesn't want to take his medicine.  Both hands were tied to the
bedrails, mainly as a precaution to keep him from pulling out the IV.
He continued rocking undisturbed, even when his wife kissed him on
the forehead and stroked his arm gently.

     "Chuck?  Chucky?  It's me, baby.  I'm here... Don't leave me,
Chucky!  I promise you, we'll get through this together.  Squeeze my
hand, Chuck, please?  Come on, baby, squeeze my hand; let me know that
you're in there!  Please?  P-p-p-please???"  She looked at his friends
like a wounded deer as tears welled up.

     Ryan cleared his throat and put his hand on Chip's thin shoulder.
"I promise you, we'll going to get the bastard who did this.  No one's
going to hurt you again.  Just come back, ok?  You've got a lot of
people worried, Chip.  Both Dan and Drew are working on getting the
answers.  You're going to be all right, no one's going to *ever* do
something like this again!"  He gave a light squeeze to the shoulder
and stepped back.

     Colin stood with his eyes closed.  It hurt to see Chip this way
and to know that there was nothing they could do to make it better. 
(God, I know you're listening... I know not every prayer is answered
the way we want it to be... But why Chip?  Send angels to watch over
him - he needs your protection now more than ever.  God, I'm scared
that whoever did this may try to hurt him again!  Watch over him,
protect him, and please, God... let him come back to those who love
him and need him.)

     He opened his eyes and moved toward the bed.  He brushed a stray
lock of hair off Chip's forehead and gave his hand a squeeze.  "Chip,
whatever it takes... we're going to do whatever it takes to bring you
back to us.  Your kids need you, your wife needs you, and your friends
miss you.  Don't stay away too long, okay?"  He released Chip's hand
and shook his head a fraction as he looked at Ryan.  "No response,
nothing."  He sighed and moved over to Patty, putting an arm around
her shoulders.  "You really shouldn't be here alone.  We can arrange
to have someone from the cast or crew here with you whenever you're
here.  Give you someone to talk to when you need to talk.

     "You don't have to do that!"  she exclaimed.  "I mean, it's not
like I'm ungrateful for everything you've done... but you all have
lives, too!"  Ryan spoke up.  "Patty, you can't be here all the time -
you've got three kids that need you... and need you healthy to look
after them.  Your folks can't be expected to replace both you and Chip
- it wouldn't be fair to them or the kids!  Let us help, ok?  And
if... when he finally wakes up, someone will be here with him.  We'll
be out in the hall to give you time alone with Chip.  Talk to him -
see if you can get through.  Even sitting with him is a good thing,
because sooner or later it will register that someone is there for
him."  He hugged her briefly and nodded his head at Colin.  The two
left Patty alone with her thoughts and her husband, and took up seats
outside the door.

     Ryan was the first to speak.  "I'm glad that you think he
shouldn't be alone, too.  This whole thing seems to have been designed
to get Chip out of the picture."  He shuddered and winced as a spasm
shot down his spine.  Colin rubbed his friend's back, working on the
knotted muscles.  "Do you think that whoever did this will really try
to kill Chip?  I hope we're wrong, I hope that whoever planned this
will leave him alone!"  Ryan sighed as his muscles yielded under
Colin's manipulation.  "But if... *when* Chip wakes up, what then? 
Don't you see, whoever did this _has_ to kill Chip - it's the only way
to make sure he can never be a threat again."

Part 11: Breaking News, Broken Dreams

      It was late when the phone rang in Dan Patterson's office.  He
lurched awake (fell asleep in the damn desk chair again!) and grabbed
the phone.  Drew sat up on the couch where he had been dozing.  "Yes?
What news?  Who's there?  I agree - he shouldn't be alone.  We'll
think of something.  I'm sending two studio guards over there for the
night.  No, of course they won't be in uniform!  <sigh>  I'm sorry. 
You two head home and get some sleep after the guards get there.  Of
course, they've been checked out!  I picked them out personally - I
know their families, for God's sake!  We all need a good night's
sleep.  See you in the afternoon, then.  Good-bye."

     Drew scrubbed at his face, tiredly.  "What'd Ryan have to say?" 
"How did you know it was Ryan?"  Dan asked curiously.  "Every time you
two talk to each other, it sounds like you're going to come to blows.
You never sound that way with Colin!"  Dan grimaced.  "After all these
years, you'd think we'd learn how to talk to each other civilly. 
Frankly, the man drives me crazy - I don't know how Trish and Colin
put up with his mood swings!"

     "There's been no change, he's still unresponsive - even to Patty.
The doctors can't find any physical damage - no sign of a stroke or
what have you.  They've got him in a private room, and the doctors are
talking about long term care.  He may snap out of this in a day, or he
may never come back.  I think we should prepare for that eventuality,
just to be safe."  "Never snap out of it?  You mean he could be..."
Drew shuddered as tears trickled down his cheeks.  He wasn't sure just
who he was crying for - Patty and the kids, Chip, or himself.  (Of all
the words from tongue or pen, the saddest are 'It might have been.')

     Dan went over to the couch and sat down beside Drew.  "Look. 
I've got two guards headed for the hospital; there isn't anything more
we can do tonight.  Go home, Drew.  Get some rest, ok?  I'm going to
put together a press release, and then I'm going home as well."  "How
are you going to explain this?"  "He had the flue last week, and a
relapse this week.  We can always say he had an embolism or something
else at a later date.  I'll think of something, and I know the doctors
will back us up on this.  Now go home!"  The chubby comedian staggered
a little as he got up.  "Man, I'm so tired I can't even think
straight!  Driving probably isn't a good idea..."  Dan patted him on
the back and said, "Have the studio chauffeur drive you home.  They
can pick you up later, too.  I think the show should be canceled for
today - let everyone get some rest.  And Carey?  I wouldn't mention
any of your suspicions to Wayne, all right?  If you're correct, we
don't want to lose him.  Tell Bradley if you wish, but watch what you
tell him.  You know how he loves to gossip."

     After Drew left, Dan made another phone call.  The conversation
was brief and muffled. As he hung up the phone, Dan sighed.  He hoped
that what he set in motion wouldn't be too little too late.  Wearily,
he began composing a press release for the studio to give out in the
morning:

     'Whose Line Is It, Anyway?' performer Chip Esten hospitalized

Chip Esten, long-time regular 'fourth-seater' on ABC's hit comedy
series 'Whose Line Is It Anyway' has been hospitalized for
complications following a battle with the flu.  Doctors have
speculated that exhaustion coupled with a lingering secondary
infection were contributing factors.  He is said to be resting
comfortably, and we here at ABC studios hope he will have a smooth and
speedy recovery.

     He sighed. (Not too much information, not *completely* untrue...I
honestly don't want to believe that Wayne had anything to do with
this, but what other explanation is there?  Even George said that
whoever orchestrated this had TV experience...)  He looked at his
watch and shook his head.  No sense going home for three hours - and
no sense in calling the studio bigwigs right now.  There'd be time for
that later.  Dan took off his shoes and shirt, dimmed the lights, and
stretched out on the couch.  (Please, just let me get a couple of
hours sleep!  Today's going to be a very long day.)  He finally nodded
off, uneasily.

     When Brad and Wayne showed up at the studio, they found notes in
their dressing rooms informing them that the tapings had been
cancelled for the day.  They were directed to go to Dan's office. 
Brad looked at Wayne like a worried basset puppy.  "It sounds pretty
serious!  I wonder if someone had an accident?  You don't think we've
been cancelled, do you?"  Wayne shrugged.  "If we'd been cancelled,
don't you think that we'd have some advance warning?"  He looked back
at Brad calmly, but inside his mind was traveling a thousand miles an
hour.  (Did it work?  Did Chip kill himself?  Have they found out?  Do
they suspect anything?)

     As the two of them entered Dan's office, they noticed that Greg,
Kathy, Karen, Colin, Ryan and Drew were already there, and Jeff came
in right behind them.  "Guys?  What's going on?"  Brad tiggered into
the room and sat down on the arm of the couch, bouncing his leg
nervously.  Wayne took a seat off to one side and crossed his arms -
waiting, watching everyone.  The two women had tears in their eyes,
Greg was chain-smoking, and the rest looked like they hadn't had much
sleep.  "Yeah, guys, what's going on?"  Wayne looked at the others
expectantly.  (Come on, come on... tell me the golden boy's been
tarnished - better yet, tell me he's dead.)

     Drew looked at Dan, scrubbed at his face and sighed.  "Guys, I've
got some bad news for you. Chip was taken to the hospital yesterday. 
He wasn't feeling well, and the doctors say that he may have caught
some secondary kind of virus after the flu bug.  He collapsed, and has
not yet regained consciousness."  Brad's chin quivered and tears
sprouted in his eyes.  "Is he going to die?"  Dan spoke up.  "Bradley,
we just don't know.  The doctors are running tests, but nothing has
been conclusive.  As of this moment he's breathing on his own, which
is a good sign... but he appears to be in a coma.  That's all we know
at this point."

     Wayne shook his head in apparent sadness.  (Not dead, but
apparently broken.)  "Is there any chance he could recover?"  "Wayne,
we honestly don't know - even the doctors don't know.  If the virus
leaves his vital organs alone, he might be able to fight it off and
come back to us.  If his brain has been affected, he might never wake
up."  (If... if... Not good enough.  Who knew he was so freaking weak
emotionally?  I don't buy that virus story at all!)

     Karen Maruyama spoke up.  "Can he have visitors?  And how's Patty
holding up?"  Ryan fielded her questions.  "Patty is heartbroken.  She
spent the night at the hospital with him.  But she can't stay there
24/7, not with three kids.  The doctor said that he could have
visitors, but I've got to warn you that he's not responding to
anything or anyone.  Who knows what's going on inside his head - maybe
he knows we're there, they just don't know."  Colin added, "Patty did
ask that we come to the hospital if and when we can to sit with him. 
She doesn't want him left all alone with nothing but nurses or doctors
around him."



Part 12: Acceptable Risk

     (Sit with him in the hospital?  Now *that* has possibilities!  It
would require some planning, though... The hospital... would it have
to be done during visiting hours?  Or are they making exceptions for
Esten because he's a celebrity?  And do I have the guts to take him
out in a hospital?  If he was never going to wake up, I could afford
to be generous and leave him alone.  But Patterson said that he
_could_ wake up!  And then where would I be?  Back in the shadows
again, that's where.  Watching Mr. Golden Boy get all the attention,
all the sympathy.  And there's no way in Hell that I'll allow that to
happen!)

     Everyone sat looking at each other.  Jeff cleared his throat.  "I
agree with Patty - someone should be with him as much as possible. 
Put me down for a time slot, any time slot."  He shrugged.  "I'm not
in every show, and if you use just one singer in each show it would
free up more of us to sit with Chip."  Brad jumped up, excitedly. 
"Dan, put me down too, ok?  I could sing to him... You think that
singing hoedowns would bring him back?"  Greg suddenly developed a
coughing jag - apparently he had tried to swallow a cigarette instead
of inhaling just the smoke.  Once he caught his breath, he choked,
"Either that, or kill him outright!"  "You're just jealous 'cause I
thought of it first!"  Brad pouted.  "It's a good idea, isn't it,
Drew?"  (What have I gotten myself into?  And if Brad throws a
tantrum, I swear to God this time I'll spank him!)  Drew counted to
ten in Polish... and then in Swahili before speaking.  "The doctor
said that any kind of communication could help - so, yeah, I guess
singing the "Get Well Chip" hoedown couldn't hurt.  Just don't do any
singing if you're there at night, ok?  The other patients in the
hospital need their sleep!"  Brad beamed, and almost stuck his tongue
out at Greg.  "Sure thing, Drew!" he burbled, and started writing down
possible lyrics to use with a hoedown.

     One by one, each of them took a time slot or a day to sit with
Chip.  Wayne asked for a night slot, and wasn't surprised when he got
it.  (Yes!  I can always watch TV instead of talking to him, and if
nothing happens within a couple of weeks, then I'll think about
setting him free.  'But officer, it was a mercy killing!'  Nah. 
Better to do it and *not* get caught at all!  If he's got IVs and
oxygen, that's just so much more to play with.)  There wasn't much
more to say, and as everyone started to leave Dan called out "Drew,
Ryan, can you stay a moment?  We need to go over the changes to the
taping schedule."  Colin left with Greg, deep in conversation.  Wayne
walked out with Brad.  Having the Trinity stay behind after a group
meeting wasn't unusual - they often picked apart a day's taping.  (I
think I'm going to get away with it!  No one suspects a thing!  Now,
all I have to do is ditch Brad and think about how I'm going to
finally rid myself of Chip Esten once and for all.)

     But ditching Brad wasn't going to be that easy.  He had decided
that Wayne needed some cheering up, and insisted on treating him to
dinner.  "Look, I know that you've been eating out a lot, but I found
this little restaurant that makes the best picnic-style food in the
world!  They've got burgers cooked over mesquite, over cherry, over
all kinds of smoke chips!  And their barbecue chicken and spareribs
are AWESOME!  They do a lot of takeout business, but they also have
tables.  And the salads?  Wow.  Just wow.  Come on, it'll be fun!  And
I promise that we won't talk about anything dealing with work. 
Please?  C'mon, please?"  He stuck out that lower lip of his, batted
his eyelashes, and turned on the starving puppy look.  Wayne looked at
him and grinned wryly.  "You're bound and determined to keep me
company, aren't you?  Why?"  "Well, that's a stupid question!  You're
my friend, hello?  Remember?  Besides, I just want someone to try this
restaurant besides me.  I want to share, ok?"  They drove off
together.

     Wayne kept up the pretense of being sociable throughout dinner. 
Brad babbled on happily about the latest movie he'd seen.  "Man, I'd
love to meet Lara Croft, wouldn't you?  She's so strong, so forceful!
Couldn't you just eat her up?  And the special effects were awesome,
too!  I mean, really awesome!  Do you think that there's really such a
timepiece somewhere?  They say that every bit of fiction has some
basis in reality; you think that this could be real, too?  I mean,
wouldn't it be great if we could find this clock and turn back time so
that none of this would have happened with Chip?  Doncha think that it
could work?  Man, I wish we could find that clock and make Chip
better!  You think that the studio that made the movie would tell us
if such a thing was really real?  Wayne, you're not saying much!" 
Wayne sighed.  It looked like this was going to be a long night.  He
felt a headache coming on.  "So, where did they find this timepiece in
the movie?"  (That should keep him going for a while - wonder if I can
get some aspirin from the manager?)

     Back at the studio, Dan looked at the other two men.  "I still
don't want to believe that Wayne Brady had anything to do with this,
but it's getting harder to avoid that conclusion.  Do we want someone
else in the room with him during the night, or should he be by
himself?  And if someone else *is* in the room with him and Chip,
would they be in danger?"  Drew shook his head.  Nuh-uh.  If he is
insane, I don't want to take the chance that he could hurt someone
else.  It's probably better to leave him solo.  Provided we can
arrange to have someone watching the room."  "What does your friend
George have to say?"  Ryan asked Dan, curiously.  "He's helping out
behind the scenes.  He's our backup if anything goes wrong."  Drew
shivered.  "We can't afford to let anything go wrong!"

Part 13: I’ll Be Watching You

     The days blurred together, fuzzed into gray nights.  Wherever
Chip went to hide, it looked as though he was going to be there for a
long time.  Fans still sent cards and bouquets, but Patty asked that
the flowers be sent to the rooms of other patients.  (He's not dead! 
I don't want his room to smell like a funeral parlor!)  She kept two
baskets with green plants to brighten his room - they had no floral
scent and didn't make her skin crawl.  Those who sent stuffed animals
were sent a thank you card, and the animals went to the hospital
nursery and children's ward.

     The cast and crew kept to their scheduled visits for a while, and
then slowly petered out.  Only a handful kept coming for visits -
Wayne among them.  He never spoke, but brought books on tape or
watched television as he sat and watched Chip.  He looked for any sign
of improvement:  an eyelid twitch, a sound, anything to indicate
whether Esten was on his way back.  (I wonder what would happen if I
said something?  Would he react?  What then?)  He watched that silent
body vibrate.  "Chip?  You in there?"  (Did he stop vibrating for a
second?  Did he hear me?)  He peeled back one of Chip's eyelids and
stared curiously into the eye that looked back at him vacantly.  (Was
there a flicker of something?  Did he see me?  Does he know?)  He
dropped the eyelid and shuddered.  It looked like the golden boy might
be trying to come back.  (Damn.  He's going to make me kill him.  Why
couldn't he just stay locked up inside his head?  It's not fair!  He
just won't let me leave him alone!)  He spent the rest of his stay
sitting quietly in the shadows, thinking.

     The next day George called the studio.  "I'm not sure, but I
don't think it will be much longer.  He didn't follow his usual
pattern this time.  Something changed.  Maybe he got a response, but
something has changed.  You need to be ready for anything."

     Several more days passed, uneventfully.  Chip remained locked
within himself; if there were any signs of improvement, they were so
small that no one picked up on them.  Night came in quietly - the
sounds of the hospital during the day faded into a muted whisper. 
Lights dimmed, and nurses made their rounds less frequently.  Wayne
arrived for his shift.  He went over to Chip's bedside and peeled back
an eyelid again.  "You still in there, Chippie?  Come out, come out,
where ever you are!"  The eye stopped roving aimlessly, and the pupil
contracted as Wayne watched.  "So you *are* hiding in there!  Naughty
boy!"  He dropped the eyelid so he wouldn't have to look into that eye
again.  "I bet you've been wondering who's been behind all this,
haven't you?  Sure you have!  Wonder why this has been happening?"  He
leaned over Chip, putting a hand on either side of Chip's pillow and
leaned in.  "It's always been about you!  You, Charles 'Chip' Esten,
Golden Boy!  Mr. Has-everything-never-had-to-struggle-for-nothing! 
Mr. Wonderful-fucking-perfect-wife-and-family!"  His voice was a
hissing whisper as he leaned in.  He was close enough for his breath
to stir the hair on Chip's forehead.  "Mr. Holier-than-thou,
Look-how-God-smiles-down-on-me!  I was a good man, a good Christian,
and look what it got me - NOTHING!  So you tell me, Mr. Yuppie-brat
boy... why should you get to keep anything you have if I can't?"

     Wayne stepped back from the bed and paced, then returned to plant
himself in Chip's face.  "You want to know who set you up?  Who took
those pictures?  Know why you couldn't help yourself with An May?  I
put Ecstasy in the wine, Chippie!  Yeah, me - I put the whoopee drug
into the wine!  Know who the photographer was for your 'special
event'?  Me!"  His voice dropped into an oily purr.  "Was she as hot
as she looked, Chippie?  I never figured you had a little streak of
kinky in you - I made extra copies of you having Chinese for dinner
and tying one on.  I bet I could get plenty for the video of your
little session!  How would you like that, Chippie?  What, no answer?"

     He resumed pacing, talking almost as much to himself as to Chip.
"I had hoped that you would do the honorable thing and kill yourself,
but you couldn't even do that for me!  Even locked in here you're
getting all the attention!  Even after all the crap you've pulled,
your wife is still with you!  Even though she's seen pictures of your
'night of passionate romping' with another man, she's still staying at
your side!"  He stalked back to the bed.  "Even in here, you've still
got everything!  It's not fair, it's not fair, it's... not... fair!" 
Wayne planted his face right in Chip's.  He didn't notice that the
other man had stopped rocking, as he reached into his pocket and
pulled out a syringe.  "This won't hurt - as much as I'd like to send
you on your way to Eternity screaming in agony, it's safer to let a
little air bubble in your bloodstream take you out.  I'll sing at your
funeral, buddy boy.  I'll sing real pretty.  And then, in a month or
so when things have calmed down, I'll be on top.  *I'll* be the
regular songbird!  *I'll* be the one getting all the fan mail!  Time
to kiss this life goodbye and say 'Hello' to Eternity.  And, who
knows?  I may even find time to comfort the little widow."

     Wayne pulled the plunger back on the syringe filling it with air.
As he injected the bubbles into the hose leading to Chip's arm, he
heard a faint sound.  "Nnnnoooo!"  Chip's eyes were wide open with
horror.  "Wwwwwaaay... nooo!"  "Dammit, Esten!  You won't even let me
kill you with kindness!  We're going to have to do this the hard way,
and it's all your fault!"  He grabbed the pillow from under Chip's
head and put it over his face.  Chip struggled weakly, his hands
clenched as he fought the restraints.

Part 14: Heaven Can Wait

     The lights came on and strong hands pulled Wayne away from Chip,
knocking the pillow to the floor.  Wayne howled and fought like a
madman.  George had him in a half nelson, and Drew was holding on to
Wayne's legs for dear life.  "No!  It's not fair!  He's got to die! 
He has to die!  Let me go, let me go, LEMME GO!!!"  Patty and a doctor
rushed over to Chip's bedside.  "There's no bubble in the IV!  Oh,
God, no!  Chuck! We're too late!"  Patty was sobbing.  The doctor
grasped her by the shoulders.  "It doesn't matter!  Look!"  As he
pulled the gauze wrappings away from the tubing Patty could see that
the IV wasn't going into his arm.  "It was only for show - he hasn't
been on IVs for days.  He's all right!"

     "Patty?"  Her name was whispered faintly, almost breathlessly. 
She turned back to the bed.  "Chuck?  Oh, Chucky!"  She covered his
face with kisses.  "Thank God, you've come back to me!  Everything is
going to be all right.  I love you, Chuck!  Don't you ever leave me
like that again!"  She was laughing and crying all at the same time.

     Wayne suddenly stopped struggling against George and Drew.  He
seemed to pull back within himself and he looked down at Drew.  "You
really don't need to do that anymore, Drew."  Drew cautiously released
his hold on Wayne's legs.  George kept the wrestling hold on Wayne
until a security guard showed up with handcuffs.  Just before Wayne
was led out of the room into police custody, Patty asked that Wayne be
brought over to the bedside.  Wayne stared down at Chip's wasted body.
A vein throbbed visibly in his forehead, and the cords in his neck
stood out as he continued to stare at Chip.  "Wayne... 'm so sorry. 
Didn't know... thought... 'r friends..."  The words came out painfully
slow and rough as Chip fought against months of silence.  "I... f'give
you..."

     Wayne's eyes grew slitted.  "You... forgive... me?  How *DARE*
you!"  His face grew darker as more blood rushed into it.  "You've
ruined everything for me!  You've managed to keep everything that has
been taken from me, and you forgive me?"  Chip watched in horror as
tiny blood vessels in Wayne's eyes ruptured.  "Where's the justice in
that, huh, buddy boy?  You and God laughing at the big joke He's
played on me?"  By now, the others had started to notice that
something was definitely not quite right with Wayne.  The vein in his
forehead looked like a snake as it pulsed angrily.  The doctor who had
been attending to Chip began to move around the bed to get to Wayne. 
"You really think that I want your forgiveness?  I want you dead, God
damn it!  I want you dead!!!"  As he screamed that last sentence, the
rage on his face vanished, to be replaced first by surprise... then
horror.  He tried to speak, but all that came out was a strangled
croak.  The vein in his forehead seemed to twist on itself, and blood
began pouring out of his nose.

     "Get those cuffs off him fast!"  The doctor grabbed hold of Wayne
as he slowly began to crumple.  "Wh-what's happening?"  Drew
stuttered as he watched the handcuffs being removed.  The blood
continued to pour from Wayne's nose.  The doctor pushed the call
button, and when a nurse arrived he barked out, "Get a gurney in here
STAT!  And tell them we need an operating room!  Move it!  He's burst
at least one, maybe more blood vessels - if we can't stop the
bleeding, we might lose him!"  Wayne's eyes were filled with terror as
he tried to reach for the doctor.  His lips hung slack on one side,
and the arm only twitched where it lay.  "Dammit, where's that
gurney?"

Epilogue:  What Goes Around, Comes Around

     They managed to stop the bleeding and repair the torn blood
vessels during surgery.  Wayne's hair was gone - the first casualty in
the effort to save his life.  The damage done by the bursting vessels
was extensive:  paralysis caused by stroke, and the damage to the
frontal lobes of his brain left him locked within his own mind. 
Perhaps it was better that way - no drawn out trial, no media circus,
and no sentence waiting to be carried out.  He was transferred to a
medium-security mental institution (not that we think he'll recover,
mind you...but should he become violent, they are better able to deal
with such cases there).

     And as for Chip Esten?  He continued to make a complete recovery
after months of physical and mental therapy.  Throughout it all, the
cast and crew supported him and Patty as they tried to reclaim their
lives.  The first time he reappeared on Whose Line the audience and
cast greeted him with a standing ovation.  Many had tears in their
eyes, Chip included, as he thought about what might have been.  At
least once or twice a month he goes to sit with Wayne.  As he talks
about the show, the people they knew, and current events, he watches
Wayne's face, looking for signs that he might still be in there.  And
every so often, he swears that Wayne's eyes glow redly.

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