Fraggle Rock fic: Commonplace Miracles

[Slackbot]

I writin' another thing. Here's the first part of that thing.

*****

Commonplace Miracles​

by Kim McFarland​

*****

Part 1: Expectations and Preparations

A female Fraggle, her pink hair streaked white with age, pressed her fingers lightly to Mokey's throat, feeling her pulse. It was normal, which was to be expected, as Mokey was characteristically calm. Then the older Fraggle pressed her ear to Mokey's stomach and listened to the softer, faster heartbeat within.

"Well?" Mokey asked.

The pink-haired Fraggle, whose name was Weft, stood again. "Its heart sounds fine and strong. Has it been moving much?"

"All the time! It must be sleeping now. Otherwise it would have kicked you in the ear."

Mokey said this cheerfully, but lately she had not been getting as much sleep as she'd have liked. It was spring, the last chill of winter long past, and she was expecting a child. Fraggle pregnancies lasted 200 days, and she was on day 194, according to her tally chart.

Gobo, Wembley, Red, and Boober had also been keeping count. Several years ago, when the issue had finally become relevant to them, they had faced the issue of how to start their families. Pairing off would have meant choosing only one of their friends and excluding three others, and one of them would have been left out altogether, so it had not been seriously considered. In the end they had decided that, as the five of them were as close as any Fraggles could ever be, they would all form a family. It was, for them, the obvious choice. Last year they had taken part in the Midsummer Ritual, and the result was almost here.

It had not been difficult to decide who would be a mother first. Mokey had declared her readiness to take her part in the great stream of life, and Red was willing to let her have that honor, not to mention relieved. The other question had been who would sire her child. Mokey had wembled on that issue—choosing for one meant choosing against the other two! In the end she had decided she simply would not make such a decision. So they had left it to chance by all joining in the ritual.

Mokey was ready for this. She could hardly wait to have a baby of her own. She was also looking forward to not getting kicked all night. Not that she would admit to being irritated by that—how could a baby know any better? —but Red could tell when her roommate had not gotten enough sleep. It had been weeks since she had banged her gong to welcome the dawn.

Red didn't understand how Mokey could be so dang serene. Sure, it would be great to have a little Fraggle, but being weighed down by a fragling-to-be all winter and spring would drive Red nuts, and everyone had heard horror stories about giving birth. Either Mokey was very brave, Red thought, or she was as oblivious as Gobo's Uncle Matt.

Wembley was as eager to see the baby as Mokey was, and, taking his cue from her, completely unafraid. Well, of course he could be all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed about it, Red, thought; he wasn't going to be put through the wringer in a few days. Boober, on the other hand, was trying to pretend he wasn't worried, and failing miserably. His anxiety had been getting worse and worse as Mokey's had neared. At this rate, she thought, he'd be a basket case by the time the baby came. At least this time he was keeping it to himself rather than freaking everyone else out.

Gobo... she had a hard time figuring him out. He was looking forward to it, of course, but he had also gotten himself named Moon Greeter, and was obsessing over what to do to make the coming Ceremony of the Moon as special as possible. That was only two days away! How at a time like this he could be more intent on something that happened every month was beyond her. He'd just better snap out of it before the baby came, she thought.

Weft told Mokey, "You and the baby are fine. You'll be a mother very soon now."

"Oh, Good," Mokey said. "It'll be nice to see my feet again."

Weft smiled. She'd heard variations on that remark many times. Complaints about size meant that the expectant mother had nothing worse to complain about. She said, "Send someone to get me if anything happens. Until then, whatever you've been doing, keep doing it."

"I will. Thank you."

Weft watched the two Fraggles leave her home, then went back to her loom. Her profession was that of a weaver; midwifery was something she only practiced once or twice a year in springtime.

**

Gobo, Wembley, and Boober were waiting right outside Weft's door. Gobo said, "What'd she say?"

"She said I'm fine, and it'll be born soon."

"Are you sure she wasn't just saying that?" Boober asked, a quaver in his voice.

"Boober!" Gobo exclaimed.

Mokey said gently, "Don't worry so much, Boober. Everything will be all right. You'll see."

Red remarked, "He's just worried about the diapers he's going to have to wash."

Boober shook his head. He feared no laundry. If diapers were in his future, that was fine with him. What he feared was that they weren't.

Wembley sensed that that would be a good moment for a change in topic. "We filled the pantry up this morning, Mokey. We've got enough radishes to last everyone in the Rock for a week!"

"Oh, thank you," she answered. Her job was getting radishes from the Gorgs' garden. Though it was no longer a dangerous task, as the Gorgs willingly shared their crop with the Fraggles, she was not up to the task now. The others cheerfully took up the slack, and then some.

Gobo said, "Speaking of the garden, I'm going to go see the Trash Heap. See you guys in a bit."

As Gobo turned to leave, Boober said, "Wait. I'll come with you."

Gobo looked back, surprised, then said, "Sure, come on."

They left. Red put her fists on her hips and said, "Sheesh. Can you believe them, running off like that?"

"Never mind," Mokey said. "They must have things on their minds."

"Yeah, I bet they do," Wembley said.

"Unlike you," said.

"Yeah—hey!"

Red smirked. "Gotcha!"

**

When Gobo and Boober reached the mouth of Fraggle Rock, long evening shadows were stretched across the garden. The Gorgs could be heard inside their home. Gobo thought that they were likely having dinner. He hopped out and said, "C'mon, Boober."

Even though it had been years since he had been menaced by a Gorg, the sheer hugeness of everything still frightened Boober. He shrank into himself as he followed Gobo.

They found the Trash Heap staring at the horizon. Her rodentlike companions, Philo and Gunge, were half asleep. She said in a low voice, "Hello, little Fraggles. Have you ever seen such a sunset? I tell you, it was worth being shoveled up and carted around in a wheelbarrow to have such a view."

Gobo and Boober looked at the sky. "It's very nice," Gobo said politely.

"'Very nice' is just where it begins. It gets more and more beautiful the more you see it. The best sunsets look like miracles painted in the air."

"That's so gosh-darn eloquent, Marjorie!" Philo said.

Gunge told Gobo and Boober, "When she talks all fancy like that, she really means it."

Gobo said, "Um, Madame Heap, I've come to you for advice."

"Advice? I advise you to pull up an old tire and watch the sunset with me. You both look like you need to relax."

Gobo said, "I'm fine! What I need to ask you about is how to celebrate the moon."

She looked down. "Don't you Fraggles do that every month? I thought you had figured out how already."

"No! I mean, yes, we have, but every month one Fraggle is the Moon Greeter, and this month it's me. The Moon Greeter has to do something special, and I want this time to be the best ever!"

"Why?" the Trash Heap asked pointedly.

"Well, because any Fraggle can just sing a song, or bake a cake, or stuff like that."

"So what's wrong with that? You sing songs and bake cakes because that's what people enjoy. Just because something is commonplace doesn't mean it isn't special, even magical." Her gaze returned to the sunset.

"Yeah, but I really want mine to be the best moon greeting ever," Gobo insisted.

She looked back down. "Why? Do you think the moon will notice?"

"What kind of question is that?"

The Trash Heap folded her arms and asked, "What do you want to celebrate? The moon, or Gobo Fraggle?"

Stung, Gobo protested, "I don't want to show off! I want..." He lowered his voice. "I want it to be special because Mokey's about to have her baby. I want to do it for them."

This was not the first The Trash Heap had heard of Mokey's condition. She chuckled. "I had a feeling it was something like that. Very well, my advice to you is this: sing a song. Or bake a cake. Or, better yet, let someone else greet the moon this month. There'll be other Ceremonies of the Moon."

Philo and Gunge chorused lazily, "The Trash Heap has spoken."

Gobo was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, "Thank you for your advice."

The Trash Heap watched Gobo turn to go. The smaller, mossy-looking Fraggle, who had almost managed to blend into the background, hesitated. The Trash Heap said to him, "You have a question?"

Boober squeaked, then got control of his voice and said, "Um... I... no."

"Now, now. You're trembling. Do I scare you?"

"No! Well, not much. But I'm scared." he said miserably.

"Oh, you need something to bring you luck? Well, let's see..." She began searching around herself.

"I'm afraid of doom and calamity. I'm afraid that terrible tragedy is about to strike and destroy the lives of everyone I hold dear. I'd do anything at all if I could keep it from happening, but I don't even know what it is!" he cried.

"Hmm. It'll take more than a lucky bottle cap to ward that off," The Trash Heap remarked thoughtfully. "When do you think it will happen?"

"Soon. In a few days. Just when everyone but me least expects it!"

"Calm down," she said, holding a hand out, palm down. "Does it have anything to do with Mokey and her baby?"

"I think so," Boober said, ashamed. "I know I ought to be happy, but when I think about her all I want to do is panic."

"Little Boober, you have what is known as... the jitters."

Horrified, Boober exclaimed, "I do? Where did I catch it? Is there a cure?"

"The jitters is not a sickness. It is the fear of something that is about to happen. It can turn a wonderful event into an ordeal. To cure yourself, you will have to look within yourself. There you will find all the answers you need, for you already know just what you are afraid of. Once you face your fear, you will come out on the other side, braver and stronger."

"Can I do that while hiding under a rock?" Boober whined.

"No."

Philo, who had half fallen asleep during the exchange, said, "The Trash Heap has spoken." Both he and Gunge yawned.

**

Boober, wringing his scarf in tightly-clenched fists, ran along the base of the garden wall, afraid of being seen. When he reached the mouth of Fraggle Rock Gobo was sitting there, looking up at the waxing Gorg Moon. Boober followed his glance, then looked back at him.

"Did you ever notice that the Gorg Moon is full on the night of the Fraggle Moon?" Gobo said.

"No, I can't say that's ever been on my mind," Boober replied.

"It's always above the well in time to see the Fraggle Moon, and never any other time. It's as if it wants to look down into the pond and see it. Like they're friends."

"Gobo, do you feel all right?" Boober asked worriedly.

Gobo smiled. "I sure do. Listen, Boober, you go back home. I'm going to get another radish. You can never have too many in the pantry."

"All right." Boober said, and dove for the safe underground.

He ran head-on into Wembley, knocking them both down. Unfazed, Wembley said as he got back up, "Hi! I was wondering what happened to you and Gobo."

Boober was not in the mood for Wembley's cheerfulness. He said, "Gobo's getting a radish. Why don't you help him?"

"Sure!"

**

Wembley found Gobo in the garden, dragging a huge radish by its leaves. He said, "Hi, lemme help!"

"Sure!"

Together they hoisted the radish up and carried it toward the hole. Wembley asked, "What did the Trash Heap say?"

"I got my idea for the greeting of the Fraggle Moon. I'll have the Gorg Moon greet it!"

Wembley laughed at what he thought was a flight of whimsy. "How?"

"If I get to the highest point in the world, I can reach it." He pointed to the tallest tower of the Gorgs' castle. "The belfry. I've seen the Gorg Moon pass right over it, close enough to touch. I bet if I bring a net I can catch it."

"Wow," Wembley said, impressed.

"I'd need a big enough net..."

**

When Boober went back home he did what he always did to soothe severely frayed nerves: he gathered up the grimiest clothes, the ones he saved for just such an occasion, and set to work washing them. Who could worry while scrubbing stubborn paint stains? It was quietly engrossing work, and freed his mind from his cares.

Usually. Now, however, his nerves refused to be calmed. He had faith in The Trash Heap's wisdom and benevolence, but what did she mean? Look within himself for the answers? The only thing he'd find if he looked within himself was an annoying clown, and he hadn't acted up in years. The last thing Boober wanted to do was wake Sidebottom up. That couldn't have been what she meant.

Someone could die if he didn't find the answer. He knew it as surely as if he had already seen it happen! He needed answers, not riddles! He would cut off his own tail if that would avert whatever was coming, but he had no idea what he had foreseen. How could he do anything to prevent it then?

The others thought he was merely nervous. He had hidden his fears from them, because what good would frightening them do? It might only ruin someone's final hours. Besides, he was the only one who had foreseen it; he was the only one who could do anything about it. If only he were brave enough to face his fears... no, he would face them without being brave, if that was what it took. But what did he have to face?

It was so much easier to be helpless, he realized. If there was nothing you could do, you could simply await your fate. It was hardly worth being afraid then. But if you had hope, then you had fear.

"Hey, Boober, you've nearly scrubbed a hole in that smock."

Boober yelped and jumped at the sound of Red's voice. Startled, she shied back for a moment. "Hey, sorry, I wasn't trying to startle you."

"That's all right. I was just... deep in thought."

"Boober, you're scared silly. Everyone can tell." She stood facing him.

There was no use trying to hide it. "Yeah," he admitted.

Quietly she said, "I'm kind of nervous too."

Ho looked at her. Misinterpreting what she could see of his expression, she said quickly, "Only a little! But, well, it's scary, what Mokey's going to have to do. I don't know how she can be so calm about it."

She doesn't know what's going to happen, Boober thought. Nobody did but him. They were all brave, much braver than he was. Shouldn't he tell them, so they'd be alert? But what could he say? Doom was coming, he was sure of it, but he had no idea when or what form it would take. They'd think he was losing his mind.

Red got up to sit by Boober. Silently she put her arm around his shoulders. "Can you keep a secret?" she said softly.

"Sure," he answered.

"I...feel kind of left out. Mokey's the mother, and you or Gobo or Wembley could be the father, but me... I've got nothing to do with it. Sometimes I feel like I chickened out. Silly, huh?"

He touched her other hand. "No, I don't think so," he whispered.

"I know we'll all raise him, or her, and that's great, but... I don't know."

"This time," Boober told her softly.

She looked at him for a moment. Then she said, "Yeah. Maybe later. 'Til then I'll just be Aunt Red."

"Yeah."

They sat quietly together for a little while. Then she said, "I came here to find out what was bugging you and I ended up doing the talking."

"That's all right."

"Well... Mokey and I are going to go for a swim. Want to come with us?"

"No thanks. I have laundry to do," he answered.

He never swam with other Fraggles. Red suspected he stayed clean by laundering himself when nobody was looking. "Okay. Well... see you later. And thanks for listening."

"Anytime," he answered as she got up. It was strange, but he actually did feel a little better. Red could be boisterous, and she got on his nerves a lot, but sometimes even she needed a confidant, and he was Fraggle Rock's resident expert on angst. It made him feel good to put his natural gifts to use.

When she was in the door he got up and said, "Red."

She looked back. "What? Gonna come after all?"

"No." He went over to a box and opened it, then took something out. "I made a fresh batch today."

"Radish bars!" She eagerly took them from him. "Thanks! You're sweet. But not as sweet as these bars!"

He accepted a slightly crumby kiss on the cheek, then watched her scamper up the steps, munching on the confection. Hopefully she'd save one for Mokey.

He sat back down at the laundry tub. His small smile faded. If he was going to do anything better than cringe and wait for the snare to snap shut, he'd have to start by obeying the Trash Heap and looking within himself. He would figure out what was going to happen by spending some quality time with his anxieties.

*****

Fraggle Rock and all characters are copyright © The Jim Henson Company. All copyrighted properties are used without permission but with much respect and affection. The overall story is copyright © Kim McFarland (negaduck9@aol.com). Permission is given by the author to copy it for personal use only.

 

[Slackbot]

In their room, Wembley and Gobo were packing their backpacks. Both had the equipment they would need to climb the Gorgs' castle. They had done it before, and it wasn't any harder than rock climbing in the caverns. Additionally, Gobo was packing the biggest, strongest net they could find, and Wembley was making sandwiches.

Hesitantly Wembley began, "Gobo, I've been thinking... should we be doing this?"

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, the Gorg Moon's always been up in the sky just like the Fraggle Moon's always been in the water. It belongs up there. Won't it be unhappy if we take it away from its home?"

Gobo turned to him. "We'll be nice to it, and we won't keep it long. It's not like we're taking it prisoner, Wembley. It'll be our guest."

"Oh, that's okay then," Wembley said, relieved.

They put on their backpacks, each checking the other's to make sure nothing was left out, then started out. On their way they passed through the Great Hall. Mokey and Red were swimming in the pond at its center. Lately Mokey had been swimming a lot; it was the only exercise she got that didn't make her back or feet hurt. She noticed their packs, and asked, "Where are you going?"

Wembley began, "We're going up to the Gorgs'—"

Gobo cut in, "We're taking a new route to the surface."

"We are?"

"Yes, we are."

"Oh, yeah, we are."

Red asked, "What for? We've already got one you could ride a greaseberry leaf down. You look like you're all set for an expedition."

"You never know when it'll be blocked by a rockslide or something. Better have a backup route, eh?"

"That's very proactive," Mokey said approvingly.

The two were just paddling around in the water, so its surface only rippled gently. Gobo, looking down, saw his reflection. It was in constant motion.

Red swam up right under him, shattering the image. "What're you grinning at?"

"I was looking at my reflection, and I thought, it's like being both in the water and outside of it,' he told her.

"Just like a mirror. Except a mirror can't do this!" She scooped a double handful of water up at him.

He jumped back, but not in time to keep his face dry. "Very funny! What's a mirror?"

"It's a magic thing you can see yourself in. I found one once."

"Yeah," Wembley said. "It could see the future, and it talked in riddles like the Trash Heap."

"Where is it?" Gobo asked.

"I gave it to Ma Gorg. She needed it more than I did," she answered. "I told you before."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Gobo said. He had strong doubts; Red was not above making up fantastic tales to get attention. Wembley, on the other hand, believed her. He knew that truth was sometimes more unbelievable than stories. He himself had flown through the caves once, and to this day nobody else believed him. But that was all right; he had flown for the joy of it, and that was a memory he would always cherish.

Red insisted, "You don't believe me? Mirrors are real. I've even seen one in Doc's workshop. The only place that doesn't have mirrors is Fraggle Rock."

"Now there's more than one of those magic things? Sure, whatever you say. See you soon," he answered with a grin.

Gobo and Wembley left the Great Hall. Red exclaimed in frustration, "Why doesn't he believe me?"

"Does it really matter?" Mokey asked.

Red started to say something, then bit it back. "No. If he wants to be wrong, fine, what else is new? But I bet he'd believe in them if he read about 'em on a dumb old postcard."

**

Wembley and Gobo emerged from Fraggle Rock and looked around the garden. No Gorgs were about, and the lights were off in the castle. Gobo put a finger across his mouth, then both of them snuck up to the wall they had scaled once before. It was rough stone held together by ancient, crumbly mortar, with plenty of handholds and cracks in which to drive pitons. They climbed part of the way, then took a break on a ledge close to the top.

Within the castle, Junior Gorg was restless. Ma and Pa were asleep, and maybe they wouldn't notice if he went to the kitchen and made some garlic popcorn. He was tiptoeing across the room when he saw a flicker of movement in a window.

He froze and stared. There, on the windowsill above his parents' bed, sat a pair of Fraggles eating tiny, Fraggle-sized sandwiches. As he watched, they finished their meal and began climbing up the scrollery around the window.

**

Wembley and Gobo reached the top and let themselves down the inner side of the stone wall that bordered the flat roof. While Wembley reeled the rope in Gobo scouted the belfry for the most climbable route. Then Wembley stopped and listened for a moment. He hurriedly coiled the rope and set it down so it would be ready for the return trip, then hustled over to Gobo. "We're gonna have company."

Gobo stopped and listened, and he heard it too. "No worries," he told Wembley, and began to climb.

"Oh, good," Wembley said, and followed Gobo.

The climb was quick and easy, and they were soon on the domed roof of the belfry. Gobo took the net out of his backpack and tied it to a rope, the other end of which was attached to the point at the dome's center. Junior called, "Hey, what're you Fwaggles doing up there?"

"Oh, uh, us?" Wembley squeaked.

"We're having an adventure," Gobo answered.

"Weally? What kind of adventure?" Junior asked, interested.

"We're gonna catch the Gorg Moon!"

"You're gonna catch the Gorg Moon? What for?" Junior asked.

"Because it's there," Gobo replied.

"Oh, yeah. It is, isn't it," Junior said as he scratched his head. "Have fun." He turned to leave.

Gobo grinned to himself. That hadn't been hard. He was getting ready to toss the net when Junior realized what Gobo had said. "Wait! You're gonna take the whole Moon?"

Detritus, Gobo thought. "We're only going to borrow it."

"But it's the only moon we have! Don't take it away!"

"It'll only be for a little while," Gobo said. Wembley was getting a queasy feeling in his stomach.

Junior folded his arms. "You cannot take the Gorg Moon."

"Oh, really? How're you going to stop me?"

"Ah, Gobo—" Wembley began nervously.

The belfry was taller even than a Gorg, but Junior's hand could reach the edge of the dome. He jumped, grabbing blindly for Gobo. "When I catch you I'll thump you!" Both Fraggles raced for the other side of the dome.

After Junior snatched at the air several times they heard his father bellowing out a window. "Drat and Deuteronomy! Junior! What are you doing jumping around on the roof, you dunderheaded fool? You're knocking the plaster off the ceiling!"

Junior called down, "Sowwy, Pa! I'm twying to catch these Fwaggles!"

"Your mother and I are trying to sleep, so come down from there! You're too old to be chasing Fraggles anyway!"

"But they're twying to steal the moon!"

"Junior!"

"Okay, Pa," Junior grumbled, defeated. He climbed down the ladder on the side of the roof.

"That was easy enough," Gobo said, grinning.

"Uh, Gobo, maybe it's not a good idea to make him mad."

"Oh, come on, Wembley. He wouldn't really thump us. And as soon as we return it he'll see he was making a poison cackler out of a rockbeetle."

"Uh, Gobo..."

Gobo held part of the net out to Wembley. "Help me toss this. On the count of three."

"Gobo, look!"

Gobo followed Wembley's glance. Junior Gorg was standing at the base of Fraggle Rock. As they watched, he set a large stone over the opening. Then he put his hands to his mouth and shouted, "Maybe you can catch the Gorg Moon, but you'll never be able to take it undergwound!"

"Junior! Quit your yappin' and go to bed right now!"

"Sowwy, Pa," Junior shouted in a whisper. After one last glare at the belfry, he went back into the house.

Wembley said, "This is bad, very bad. How'll we get home if he doesn't move that rock?"

"We're Fraggles. We'll find a way," Gobo said, holding the net out to Wembley.

Wembley stared at it. "You still want to do this?"

"Yes, I do. Are you in or not?" Gobo asked, looking Wembley in the eye.

Wembley sighed and took his side of the net.

**

They spent the next hour tossing the net into the air. No matter how hard they threw, it always fell short. When the moon had passed the bell tower Gobo said, "Nuts. It's higher up than I thought."

"I guess we can't catch it after all, huh?" Wembley said.

Firmly Gobo answered, "I'm not giving up. Something'll come to me."

Wembley didn't try to protest. When Gobo got like this, any attempt to talk him out of whatever he had set his heart on would only make him more determined. "We've got plenty of time to think about it, I guess," he said, looking again at the stone blocking the entrance to Fraggle Rock.

**

Wembley was sitting on an egg. Nobody believed that there was a baby Tree Creature inside, but he didn't mind, not even when they laughed at him. He knew he was right.

The egg cracked under him. Quickly he got off of it and watched while the crack spread. The egg split in half, and the baby creature inside poked its head out and looked around in wide-eyed surprise. "Mama?"

"Your Mama's up there, in the tree. So's your Papa," Wembley said, pointing up the well.

"Mama?" The creature looked up the well and saw only sky and clouds. "Mama?"

"Don't be afraid," Wembley told her gently. "We'll fly to them. I'll show you how."

Wembley flapped his arms and rose easily into the air. Excitedly the baby creature flapped her wings, exclaiming, "Fly! Fly!"

Wembley encouraged, "That's it! You're doing it! Now just follow me." He floated up the well, with the Tree Creature excitedly and noisily following.

When they emerged from the well the baby saw the tree, and the nest, and her parents. She gave Wembley a midair embrace. Softly Wembley said, "Go on. Your family's waiting for you."

She turned away and flapped up to the nest, where her parents greeted her joyously. Wembley smiled. He wasn't sad. This was how it should be. He was glad he'd saved his final flight for this.

The three Tree Creatures leapt from their tree and slid through the air toward Wembley. He laughed, and joined them in their aerial dance.

**

The two Fraggles slept through the night on the belfry dome. When Gobo awakened the next morning he found Wembley lying on his stomach, his chin in his hands, contemplating a gaudy splash of color on the horizon. When he heard Gobo move he said over his shoulder, "Look at this. They have sunsets in the morning too. Too bad the Trash Heap can't see it. It's on the other side of her wall."

"That's nice, Wembley."

Wembley sat up. "Why don't we go home, Gobo? We can't catch the moon, and with that rock in place if we did get the moon we couldn't take it underground, and now nobody can get to the garden to get food. And it's not like we need the Gorg Moon, is it?"

"Wembley, Fraggles never give up. I figured out how to throw the net higher. We just need to tie a few stones around the edges. The weight'll make it go farther," Gobo explained. "Plus, things look bigger when they're closer. The moon will be almost full tomorrow night, so it'll be closer. We ought to be able to get it easily!"

"Then how'll we get it home?"

"The Gorg Moon's magical! We can wish the stone out of the way with it. And if that doesn't work, we can just jump down the well with it and land right in the swimming hole."

Wembley said, "I wish I could wish on it for some radish sandwiches. I didn't think we were going to be gone so long, so I only packed food and water for one day. Sorry."

Gobo patted his friend's back. "That's okay, Wembley. I didn't expect this either." He looked down at the garden, which was full of vegetables in various states of ripeness. The radish plot looked especially inviting... but if Junior Gorg caught them down there, they'd never get back on the roof again. "We'll be all right. A little hunger will sharpen us up. Let's get some rocks to tie to the net."

Wembley looked around the roof. There was plenty of leaves and debris up here; they could probably find some little stones too. "What if Junior comes?"

"You keep a lookout, and yell if you see him coming up here. I'll gather the rocks." Gobo put on his backpack.

**

Wembley kept watch for the next hour. Junior came out and watered the garden, looking up every so often at the belfry. Wembley hoped he couldn't see that only he was up there. If he noticed, he didn't do anything about it.

Wembley heard a distant clinking. Looking over, he saw Gobo chopping at the mortar between the stones with his pickaxe. Wembley looked back at the garden. Junior was still puttering around, sitting and talking to the radishes, unaware of what Gobo was doing.

Soon Gobo came back up with a backpack full of chunks of pale, rough mortar. Each piece was about half hand-sized. Gobo said, "Let's tie one of these to each corner of the net."

As they did Wembley said, "I dreamt about the Tree Creature last night."

"Again?"

"Yeah."

The memory was bittersweet: Wembley had endured the laughter of his friends and hatched an egg that had fallen down the well. Because he was the first thing the creature saw, it believed Wembley was its mother. He had gone nuts trying to find out what it ate, then they had all tried to teach it to fly and failed. Finally they had figured out a way to get it back to its parents, practically breaking 'Mama' Wembley's heart. But the dreams he had been having recently were all happy ones. Gobo didn't have to think hard to figure out what that was all about. Wembley was looking forward to their child's birth. They all were—with the possible exception of Boober—but Wembley was just nuts about it. Gobo said, "You'll be a mama for real in a few more days."

Wembley laughed. "That'd take real magic! But then, the world's full of magic."

**

They waited all day on the belfry. They quickly became bored and, when their canteens ran dry, thirsty. They were already hungry, having had nothing to eat since last night. They tried not to look down at the garden, but they could not help it. The radishes sat there, incredibly appetizing, the water from Junior's watering can bejeweling their leaves. Junior even called up to them to come down, promising to move the stone blocking the entrance to Fraggle Rock if they did. Gobo refused. Wembley remained silent.

That evening, the sky again painted itself in beautiful hues. Wembley lay on his stomach and gazed at it. He asked, "Gobo, why's the morning sunset on that side of the sky and the evening sunset on this side?"

"I don't know. They take turns, maybe," Gobo answered distractedly. He wasn't interested in sunsets. He was fingering the net and watching for the Gorg Moon. It would appear very soon.

The sunset shifted, changed colors, and eventually faded from the sky. Stars appeared, first big bright ones, then smaller sprinkles and vaguely lighter areas. The Gorg Moon peeked over the horizon. Gobo said, "There it is!"

Wembley, now lying face-up to stargaze, tilted his head back. "Yeah. Gobo, do you think the Gorg Moon's a star that's really close? Or maybe those stars are really tiny moons?"

"I don't know. You sure are philosophical today."

"I can't help it. I have to think of something besides food and water."

Poor Wembley. He had enough enthusiasm for two Fraggles, but when his stomach was empty his morale suffered. "We'll go home soon now."

"Good," Wembley said quietly.

**

The Gorg Moon slowly made its way across the sky. When it was right over the dome Gobo said, "Now! Let's get it!"

He and Wembley stood, each holding one side of the net. Gobo counted, "One, two, throw!"

They both tossed the net as high as it would go. It spread out and seemed to hang in the air for a moment, then fell back down on them. Gobo dodged and narrowly missed getting beaned by one of the ballast stones. Wembley wasn't as lucky; the net came down on him.

As Gobo freed him he said, "We almost got it. I'm sure the net touched it. Just a little harder so the net'll wrap around it."

Wembley nodded obediently. Gobo repeated, "One, two, throw!"

The net spread out, silhouetted against the moon, but fell again.

**

They threw the net for what seemed like hours, stopping only when the moon drifted so far away from the dome that even Gobo had to admit that it was futile. He grumbled as he stuffed the net back into his backpack. Wembley said, "Sorry, Gobo."

"We did the best we could," Gobo replied through gritted teeth.

"Gobo... can we go home now?"

Gobo wanted to stay. The Fraggle Moon wasn't until tomorrow, and the Gorg Moon would be at its closest then! But Wembley wouldn't last that long. His throwing had been weak after the first few tries. A little while without food or water and he always let Gobo down. Gobo looked at Wembley, and the harsh reply died unspoken. Wembley really did look tired and weak, but he had not complained, and it wasn't his fault that he didn't have as much stamina as Gobo did. Gobo hated to give up on any of his schemes, but he couldn't make his best friend suffer for them. He put his arm around Wembley and said, "Sure. Thanks for trying so hard."

Wembley smiled tiredly. "What're friends for?"

Gobo looked down at the garden. Junior was there, and had been watching. And he had a thumping club in his hand. Gobo shouted down, "Junior, you win. We'll leave the moon alone."

"You pwomise?"

"I promise not to try to catch the Gorg Moon! Weeba weeba, waffa waffa, garpox gumbage, whoopee!"

Puzzled, Junior said, "Huh? What was that all about?"

"That was the solemn oath of the Fraggles! It means I really promise."

"Fwaggles have a solemn oath too? How about that," Junior said to himself.

"So, can we come down without being thumped?"

"Sure, c'mon. I didn't wanna thump you anyway. I was afwaid I'd bweak the moon if I did." He tossed the club into the woodpile.

Gobo secured a rope so they could lower themselves to the roof, and tied himself to Wembley with another rope. They scaled their way down, Wembley first in case he should slip, then Gobo. Twice Gobo felt the rope pull suddenly and hard before Wembley caught himself.

On the roof, Gobo said, "You're not going to make it down the castle like this."

"Sorry, Gobo," Wembley said unhappily.

"I should've known," Gobo told him. "Listen—you wait here, and I'll bring up a radish for you. We can come the rest of the way when you get your strength back."

"Okay." Wembley sat, leaning back against the belfry.

Gobo went to the coiled rope they had left yesterday, threw it over the side of the castle, and rappelled down the wall. In the garden, Junior squatted and asked Gobo, "Weren't there two of you?"

"Yeah. Wembley's still up there." He swallowed his pride; right now they needed this Gorg's goodwill. "We haven't had anything to eat or drink since the night before last. He's too tired to climb down now. Can I bring him a radish?"

"Oh, that was Wembley? Wait wight there."

Gobo watched as Junior climbed up the ladder that was still resting against the castle wall. Junior spotted his first Fraggle friend in the moonlight and said, "I'll take you home."

"You will? Thanks!" Wembley had not been looking forward to the climb back down.

Junior picked him up and put him in his shirt pocket. Wembley held on tight to the fabric during the short but unnerving ride. Junior took him out and set him on the ground, and Gobo handed him a head-sized radish. Wembley exclaimed, "Thanks!" and tore in.

While Wembley ate, Gobo watched Junior. The young Gorg went to Fraggle Rock, lifted the stone he'd set over the entrance, and set it aside. Then he returned, dusting his hands together. "All wight, you can go home now."

"Thanks," Wembley told him. He was almost as tired as he was hungry, and he was looking forward to sleeping in his warm bed.

Junior said, "Just one thing. Why did you want the Gorg Moon?"

Both Fraggles looked up. Junior did not sound angry, merely curious. Wembley swallowed a mouthful of radish and said, "Tomorrow the Fraggle Moon is going to appear. We wanted to have the Gorg Moon there too. So they could meet."

"Oh," Junior said, surprised. "Then why don't you bwing the Fwaggle Moon out here?"

Gobo answered, "The Fraggle Moon lives in water. We can't take it out. It might die."

"Oh. That's too bad, then," Junior said. Then the Gorg yawned and said, "It's past my bedtime, and if I oversleep tomowwow Pa'll yell at me. Night-night."

"Good night," the Fraggles said.

They entered the Rock and walked down the tunnel. Wembley said, "Aren't you hungry, Gobo?"

"A little."

"Here." Wembley offered him the radish. He had already eaten half of it. Gobo accepted it and took a few bites.

Gobo didn't really want to eat. He was too disappointed in himself. He had made a glorious plan, and it had ended in grand failure. All he had accomplished was embarrassing himself and making Wembley suffer. Not to mention that Mokey, Boober, and Red would be worried about them.

Wembley would be fine after a night's sleep and a good meal, Gobo knew. And five minutes after Wembley saw the others tomorrow they'd know the whole story. Gobo didn't like that, but he knew it was futile to try to keep it a secret. He had learned to admit to his failures, though he never would enjoy doing so. He had to do something to make up for this fiasco. There had to be another way to greet the Fraggle Moon, one that would make everyone forget the image of himself and Wembley treed on the Gorgs' belfry for two days.

**

They reached their cave. Wembley, who had just polished off the radish, climbed the ladder to his nook. He changed into his pajamas and was lying down to sleep when he noticed Gobo still standing in the room. He said, "Gobo? Aren't you going to bed?"

"In a little bit. I'm not sleepy yet. I'm going to take a walk. G'night."

"G'night." Wembley turned toward the wall and snuggled down under his blanket.

Gobo walked into the Great Hall. He walked quietly; the place was full of Fraggles, asleep singly or in cozy groups.

They were so peaceful, not a care in the world, Gobo thought. He wished he could sleep like that, but lately even his dreams had been busy. For the past month, ever since he had been named the next Moon Greeter, he had slept with some paper by his bed so when he woke up with an idea for greeting the moon he could write it down. Most of his ideas had turned out to be unworkable. But the last one had shown promise... and even that had led to failure. And when he wasn't thinking about the Ceremony of the Moon... heh. He was looking forward to Mokey's baby as much as Wembley was, if that was possible, although he wasn't getting quite as silly about it. But on Wembley, silly was endearing.

Gobo looked into the still water. His reflection looked back up at him. Tomorrow night the Fraggle Moon would return to these waters, and what would he do to greet it? If all else failed, he could sing a song. He was an excellent musician. It would be as good a welcome as anyone had given. And by the next morning everyone would have forgotten it.

"What do you want to celebrate? The moon, or Gobo Fraggle?"

He heard the Trash Heap's words in his mind as clearly as if she was right next to him. Now he realized what she had meant, and felt ashamed. This wasn't supposed to be about him. It was supposed to be about the Fraggle Moon.

He whispered to his reflection, "Boy, you sure can be thick sometimes." It looked as if his reflection had spoken to him, which was fitting, he thought. As if he could be two places at once...

When he had said that to Red, she had told him about a mirror, a magic device that would let you look at yourself. There was one in the Gorgs' castle, she said. Briefly he imagined going up the passage that led right into the castle, but immediately discarded it. Even if it was real, he had had it with trying to borrow from the Gorgs.

But she had also said that she had seen a mirror in Doc's home. She wouldn't have made that up, because he could easily check on it. Doc was a friendly Silly Creature; maybe he would let Gobo borrow it. That would be perfect. Gobo could bring some magic down to the Rock without risking any more harm to himself or his friends.

Gobo smiled to himself and headed back to his room.

 

[Slackbot]

Gobo slept well into the next day. It was almost lunchtime when he awakened. When he realized that he jumped out of bed, changed into his clothes, and ran up the tunnel that led to Doc's home. The old entrance, which had opened into the seaside workshop, had disappeared years ago, leaving an uninterrupted brick wall. However, just beyond it was a newer tunnel. Gobo followed it to the inside of an apartment that was just as cluttered as the workshop had been.

The Hairy Creature was lying in his basket by the hole, breathing slowly. Gobo crept up to him and whispered "Boo!"

Sprocket startled and barked fiercely. He tried to jump to his feet, but he was tangled up in his blanket. Gobo laughed and said, "Here, let me help you with that."

As Gobo disentangled Sprocket from the blanket, which was ragged and holey from being chewed and thus a good trap for dogs' legs, Sprocket licked him enthusiastically. Gobo laughed and tried to fend off the greeting, but not too hard. "There you go. Is Doc home?"

"Yes, Doc's home," said a voice from up above. Gobo looked up. The old man was watching from behind his work counter. "What can I do for you, Gobo Fraggle?"

"I've come to ask you about mirrors," Gobo said. "Are they real?"

Doc was astonished. "Are mirrors real? Of course they're real. Why, right here..." he opened a drawer and rummaged around in it, then began taking out bits of equipment. "It's bound to be around here... or maybe it's in here..." He opened another drawer and began stirring the contents around with a sound of clanking metal.

Gobo waited with growing excitement as Doc searched around the workroom. After a while Sprocket barked for attention. "What is it?" Doc asked the dog. Sprocket exaggeratedly mimed brushing and trimming his whiskers, then holding something up in front of his face. Doc said, "Of course. Thanks for reminding me." He went out of the room for a minute, then came back with a box in his hands. Out of it he took something that looked like a blue frying pan, but was too shallow to cook in. He walked around the counter and sat on the floor in front of Gobo. "This is a mirror," he said, holding it up.

Gobo stared into the surface. He could see himself as clearly as if he was another Fraggle! And he could see the Fraggle hole behind himself. Amazed, he said, "Wow! How does it do that?"

Doc had explained a great many things to his Fraggle friends. They were often astounded by things that, to him, were perfectly ordinary and boring, and they in turn had made him recognize that the everyday world did contain many wondrous things. He explained, "I'm glad you asked. A mirror reflects light. They're used by most people to see themselves, but they have many uses in science, such as telescopes. Common mirrors such as this are made by depositing a reflective metal such as aluminum onto the back of glass."

"But how does it show me myself?" Gobo asked. He reached out and touched the surface. He half expected to feel a second set of fingertips, but of course he touched only the glass that Doc had mentioned.

Doc turned the mirror around and examined it. "That's funny, I see myself in it, not you. How about you, Sprocket?" He held the mirror up to the dog, who shook his head and waved it away, unwilling to take part in the joke.

Doc continued, "Sorry, just a little tinkerer humor. The mirror reflects—bounces—light. Light is what you see by, so it bounces the images in front of itself. That's how you see yourself. Here, you take it."

He gave the mirror to Gobo, who held it carefully by the sides in both hands. The image of himself wiggled when he turned the mirror. He said, "Why doesn't what I see stay still?"

"Ah, you've stumbled across one of the many intriguing properties of mirrors. They not only bounce light back at you, they can bounce it in other directions. With a mirror you can see around corners, over walls—have you heard of a periscope?"

"No, I haven't."

"Wait right there," Doc said. He stood up and started back toward his worktable. "I'm certain I have one around here somewhere."

"Could I borrow this? Just for tonight?" Gobo asked.

"Oh, sure. You can keep it. I never use that one. I used to use it when I was a barber, and that was years ago."

"Thanks!" Gobo thought as he looked into the mirror, this was perfect! It was amazing magic. It would be a great way to greet the Fraggle Moon, and it wouldn't involve him—he admitted to himself—showing off with some heroic deed of derring-do. But he couldn't bring it into Fraggle Rock, he thought suddenly, if it was dangerous. "Is this safe?" he asked.

"Safe as anything," Doc said. "Well, it's made of glass, and that's sharp if you break it. And some people say that if you break a mirror you'll have seven years of bad luck."

Seven years? That was powerful magic. Gobo would have to be very careful indeed.

"Ah, here we go." Doc had a device that looked like a square metal pipe bent at the ends, a penlight, a another, smaller mirror. He came back around. "Let me show you some of the other amazing things mirrors can do."

With an impatient sigh, Sprocket settled back into his basket. It was going to be a long afternoon.

**

"Gobo! Wembley!"

Wembley jumped when he heard Red's shout. A moment later she barreled into the room, knocking him over. They tumbled to the ground. She popped to her feet, unhurt. "Where's Gobo?"

"I don't know," Wembley said. "He was still asleep when I got up, and when I came back he was gone. Why?"

"Mokey's having the baby! Come on, let's get Boober!"

"Wait, lemme write Gobo a note!"

Red waited impatiently, tapping her foot, while Wembley searched around for paper, then something to write with. Quickly he scratched out a short message and placed it on Gobo's bed. Then Red seized his wrist and dragged him out.

**

"Boober!"

Boober gave a startled scream as Red burst into his cave. She said, "It's Mokey. It's time!"

"Already?" Boober said, a terrified quaver in his voice.

"Yeah, already! Come on!"

She grabbed his wrist. He said, "But you know I'm no good in a crisis!"

She yanked him off his feet. He had to run or she would be dragging him. Without looking at him she said, "Mokey wants you there, and you're gonna be there!"

Wembley, running alongside, put his arm around Boober to help him keep up. "It'll be okay. It'll be great!" he said brightly.

Boober turned to Wembley. Their noses touched. "You," he informed Wembley, "have a twisted sense of humor."

**

They gathered in Weft's cave. The weaver had Mokey lying down on a bed. Red said, "I couldn't find Gobo."

"That's all right. I'm sure he'll turn up," Mokey said.

"How can you be so calm?" Red exclaimed.

Mokey smiled and reached out to take her roommate's hand. "It's not so bad. I have hours to go," she said.

"Only a few more hours!" Wembley said, grinning.

Red felt Mokey's hand squeeze hers suddenly and hard. Mokey's face tightened. When Mokey remembered to breathe again she said, "It's all part of the natural process."

Red sat by her, still holding her hand. "Yeah, it is," she said, her voice tight.

Boober's heart had gone into his throat when Mokey's contraction had started. Now he said in an urgent whisper to Weft, "It's early! It's not supposed to be born for four more days!"

Weft answered for all to hear, "A few days one way or the other doesn't make a bit of difference. The baby is good and ready to be born."

Mokey said to Boober, "It's all right, Boober. Don't be afraid."

"How can you say that? You're the one who..."

Mokey smiled. "This will only last a little while. By this time tomorrow we'll have a little Fraggle!"

Red smiled exaggeratedly. "Oh, Boober, would you come with me a minute?" To Mokey she said, "We'll be right back."

Red took Boober by the upper arm—she could feel him trembling—and led him out. In the passageway she whispered harshly, "This is gonna be hard enough without you crying doom. She believes she can do it, and we've gotta believe for her too. You are not going to upset everyone by acting like it's a disaster. Understand?"

Her eyes pinned his. He gulped and said, "I understand."

"Good. Now, go get something for us to eat, 'cause we're gonna be in there a long time. And when you come back, you're gonna be happy with us and not say a single thing about anything bad that might happen, because nothing bad will happen!"

It was an order, not a request. Fraggles did not order each other around... but it would give him a chance to calm down, if possible. "All right."

Red returned to Mokey's side. Mokey asked, "Where's Boober?"

"I told him to get something to eat. These things take time, don't they?" Red said, projecting cheerfulness as hard as she could.

**

Boober got out a picnic basket. He briefly considered cooking something elaborate, a soufflé perhaps, to give him plenty of time to take his mind off things. But this occasion called for simple finger food. Something high in energy. Easily digestible, of course, because of the stressful situation.

He sighed, went to the pantry, and got out some fresh vegetables. When all else failed, you could always count on those, he thought as he deftly sliced them into bite-sized pieces.

**

Soon Boober left his cave with a heavy basket on his arm. Besides the vegetables, he had made some dip and added his most recent batch of cookies. He wanted to bake a fresh batch because cookies were great comfort food, but that would take too long. As little as he wanted to see this, he knew he must be there.

He did make a detour by Gobo and Wembley's cave. Wembley's note was still on Gobo's bed, untouched.

**

When Boober returned to Weft's cave, Red exclaimed, "It's about time! Did you grow those vegetables while we were waiting?"

Boober hung back, holding the basket in front of himself as if to hide behind it. The terror came surging back. Something horrible was going to happen, as surely as falling gravel heralded a cave-in. And there was nothing he could do about it. He could tie as many knots in his tail as it would hold, he could bang his knuckles raw on a lucky flowerpot, but he could never drum up enough luck to save Mokey!

Mokey said in a gentle voice, "There's nothing to worry about, Boober. The creation of new life is a natural and beautiful event. Come here, sit with us." She held a hand out to him.

Reluctantly he put the basket down and inched over to the bed. Red scooted over to make room. He took Mokey's hand. She smiled warmly at him—and then she drew in a sharp breath as another contraction began.

Boober whimpered softly and collapsed. Red caught him around the waist before he hit the floor.

**

Boober awoke inside a dark cave. The only light came from a pair of circular openings high up against one wall. On the other side was a tunnel leading back into inky blackness.

"I'm asleep," Boober said to himself.

"No, you fainted."

Boober looked back. Sitting in one of the openings was a gaudily-clothed Fraggle. Boober groaned. "No offense, but you're the last thing in the world I need right now. Important things are happening in real life. I need to deal with them!"

Sidebottom hopped down. "Except you can't."

Boober hung his head. "No. I can't. I never found out what was going to happen, so I can't do anything to stop it."

"I know what's scaring you. I know why you're paralyzed with dread."

"All you know is how to play around and cause trouble. I need to-"

Sidebottom interrupted in a singsong tone of voice, "I'm made up of everything you repress. Spontaneity, fun... and older things. You might say I'm your inner child."

"You're certainly childish," Boober grumbled. "Look, if you can help me out, then start. If you just want to play around, then leave me alone now and I promise I'll let you out later, all right?"

"Come with me," Sidebottom said, and held out a hand. Reluctantly Boober took it. Sidebottom led him back into the cave.

The tunnel lightened as they passed through it. Boober saw images of his life painted on the walls. The first ones depicted recent events. As they continued Boober saw older images. Some were happy, others not, but all were memorable. Though the drawings were simple, the images they brought to Boober's mind were as vivid as if he was seeing them before his eyes once more.

They stopped when the tunnel narrowed into a small passage that was blocked by fallen rocks. Boober said, "If this is all supposed to be my mind, then what's this?"

"What you're afraid of is behind this," Sidebottom answered in a high-pitched voice.

Startled, Boober turned to him, then stared. Sidebottom was now a child. His outlandish clothing was gone, replaced by a simple scarf and a satchel he held to his chest with one hand. His hat was just like Boober's, but with several bright-colored feathers stuck into it.

Sidebottom grinned. "I told you I'm your inner child, remember?"

"This is too weird," Boober said, shaking his head.

"Your answer is on the other side. But I don't know if you want to see it."

"I've come this far. I'm tired of being afraid. I have to know!" Suddenly angry, Boober grabbed a rock and flung it out of the way.

"That's the spirit!" Sidebottom cried, and began moving stones.

Working together, the two dug through the blockage quickly. When Boober squeezed through to the other side he found, to his surprise, a wide, warm, well-lit tunnel with a clean stream running through the center. The stream widened into a pool, perfect for swimming. There was a bridge over the river. Many of the tunnels branching off the passage were curtained by tapestries showing Fraggles playing, plants in bloom, and favorite foods. The air smelled fresh and clean, and a light breeze flowed through the cavern.

"Home," Boober whispered.

"This is where we were born," Sidebottom said softly.

Boober had not thought of this place in... he had no idea how long. It was, he realized, like he had forgotten about it as soon as he had left it. It was empty, as if all the Fraggles who had once lived here had suddenly moved away.

Boober asked Sidebottom, "Where is it?"

"At home," Sidebottom answered.

Boober did not remember where he had lived, but his feet knew. Feeling as if he was in a dream, he walked down a wide side tunnel and found a cave mouth with a familiar green curtain. He looked back at Sidebottom. Sidebottom had stopped at the tunnel entrance. He nodded, and Boober nerved himself and pushed the curtain aside.

There was nothing inside.

Boober stepped into the small cave. The floor was softened by moss. Two simple beds, one large and one small, were made on a flowstone shelf that ran along the back wall. There were a few items of clothing and small possessions, but that was all.

Boober looked around, and as he did the emptiness of the place seeped into him, making him feel cold and knotting his stomach. He wasn't here. He had run away after the death of his mother. She had died trying to have a second child. One day she had been alive, happily anticipating the addition to their family, the next...dead.

Boober sank to the floor, tears spilling from his eyes and down his cheeks. Sidebottom stepped in and put a gentle hand on his back. "This is what you're afraid of. That this will happen again."

Boober tried to answer, but he could not catch his breath. Sidebottom continued, "We ran away from this empty cave. When we found Fraggle Rock we decided to start over. You put your past behind you so your broken heart could heal. That was when I started."

Boober wiped his eyes with his scarf and stared at Sidebottom. This goofball was Boober's original self?

"No," Sidebottom answered. "You bottled up your memories, hid them from yourself. I wasn't really born until you repressed all the fun and joy in your life. You cut yourself in half, and that other half became me." He came around and squatted so he could look Boober in the face. "What I don't understand is, why did you cast away fun and keep fear and anxiety?"

"Because I could always count on those," Boober whispered.

The two sat quietly for a while. Then Boober said, "There's nothing for me here."

"No, there isn't," Sidebottom agreed.

Boober got up again, and led Sidebottom out of the empty colony.

**

By the time they reached the first room Sidebottom had regained his normal, clownish appearance. The twin windows suddenly reminded him of eyes. Of course; Sidebottom lived in Boober's mind, which he sometimes called 'the space behind your eyes.' Very funny. Boober said, "I still don't know what to do."

"You know why you were scared. You don't have to be afraid any more."

"Watch me," Boober said miserably.

Sidebottom chuckled, making Boober scowl. Sidebottom said, "Whenever anyone's sick or injured, they go to Doctor Boober, who has all the remedies known to Fragglekind. Why can't you cope with this?”

"I wouldn't know what to do!"

"You've never tried to find out, Doctor Boober."

"I'd panic. Or faint."

Sidebottom spread his arms wide. "Then let me help!"

Boober glared at him. "Doctor Fun would be worse than no help at all!"

"No! Don't you understand? I'm you! I'm everything you repress. Let's use that for once! Your fear is what's crippling you. Give it to me! I'll hold onto it for you!"

"Can you do that?"

"If you can suppress your silly side for years, surely you can suppress your scared side for a few hours." He held a hand out to Boober.

Boober took it. Okay, Sidebottom, you asked for this, he thought, and called up the crushing dread that had been weighing him down. Then he let it go. As it settled into Sidebottom, his alter ego's normally clownish expression tightened into shock and horror. Sidebottom snatched his hand away as if burned. "You like living like this?" he gasped.

"Inured is more the word."

"Well, go on! Go!" Sidebottom shouted.

 

[redBoobergurl]

I like this a lot - they are all very much in character and it's a neat approach that they're not "paired" off, but instead all together. Anxious to see what happens next!

 

[Puckrox]

Oooh, good fanfic so far! You've mentioned how the five Fraggles formed their own family before in previous fanfics, but I always wondered how you imagined they, err, "sired" their children. Now I know! It's very interesting. I like the idea of them leaving it up to fate.

During the part where we find out about Boober's past/mother I got really teary eyed and started exclaiming "Poor Boober!" Then my cat knocked over my trash bin, and so I turned to her and yelled "Quiet! I'm trying to have a moment with this fanfiction!" My cat ruins everything.

I'm assuming Mokey's pregnant with Janken? He's the eldest of the Fraggle kiddies, right?

Keep up the good work! I look forward to reading more of this story! (I think the only story of yours I have left to read is Runt, which I'll get to either tonight or tomorrow. )

 

[Slackbot]

redBoobergurl: Thanks, I'm glad you like this. I like pairings when they're well-written--and I liked your fics!--but I just didn't like the idea of changing the dynamics of the group. I believe they're happier all together... and we've never seen any hint in the series that Fraggles marry.

Puckrox: Heh, I imagine Fraggles sire children pretty much the same way other mammals do. They just don't film kiddie shows during the Midsummer Ritual.

Yep, I guess it's not much of a spoiler to say that Mokey is pregnant with Janken. But not for much longer.

If you read Runt around now, well, good timing. You'll see what I mean. Heh heh.

 

[bazingababe24]

Heh, I imagine Fraggles sire children pretty much the same way other mammals do. They just don't film kiddie shows during the Midsummer Ritual.

Yep, I guess it's not much of a spoiler to say that Mokey is pregnant with Janken. But not for much longer.

When I read the part about Mokey's choice for the ritual, or lack thereof, I immediately thought "Janken!"

You write about Fraggle love as being so much more beautiful and pure than our own. The Fraggle Five are so close and have such a deep respect for one another that they formed a family. That's the way I wish love was in the real world.

Your stories are so well-scripted, so in character and always such a pleasure to read. I always look forward to your works. Please write more soon!

 

[Puckrox]

Puckrox: Heh, I imagine Fraggles sire children pretty much the same way other mammals do. They just don't film kiddie shows during the Midsummer Ritual.

Hehe, well, okay, there is always that. XD

 

[Slackbot]

bazingababe24: Heh, thanks. Fraggles are not possessive, as we've seen in The Perfect Blue Rollie. When they have a good thing, the normal impulse is to share it rather than to try to own it and keep it from others. And Fraggles don't believe in hierarchy and bossing each other around, as seen in The Gorg Who Would Be King; You can never be the boss of someone else. And we've seen in many episodes that they put a very high value on loyalty, especially to one's close friends. When I put those three factors together, it made the most sense to me for the F5 to remain the F5 rather than F2+F2+1. I just can't see any of them getting possessive of another, "You're mine and nobody else's," and I can't see the object of that impulse putting up with it. Plus, the dynamics within the five are so much fun, I'd hate to disrupt them.

Puckrox: I can just see a sign tacked up on someone's door: "When the Fraggles are rockin', don't come knockin'."

 

[TogetherAgain]

Very much enjoying this so far. I personally prefer the Fraggle egg theory for my own writing, but I love seeing other takes on Fraggle birth. And I like your take on Fraggle love, too! Very interesting, and I can see how that would work, too.

Some details I particularly like...

First of all, the title! I always have such a hard time with titles, and "Commonplace Miracles" seems like SUCH a perfect fit for this story. Certainly fits the concept of birth in general--it's certainly "commonplace," but it really is a miracle! So kudos for that. Well done.

The mention of Mokey NOT banging her gong. I do so love Red and Mokey as roommates, as they're such polar opposites... I suspect the lack of a gong in the morning makes Red equal parts grateful and worried. Also... Red comparing Mokey to Gobo's Uncle Matt. I just love all the relationships in Fraggle Rock, and you've got 'em down!

The mystery of Gobo's feelings about the baby, and Red's frustration with him for it. Did I mention I love all Fraggle Rock relationships, and you've got 'em down? I'll try not to say that TOO many times...

Boober. You are SO good at Boober. His concern that diapers WON'T be his future... Yeah. Fantastic. I'll ramble more about him later.

Marjorie and the sunset. LOVE. Absolutely LOVE. And recommending the Fraggles pull up a seat and watch it... Oh, I just LOVE it! So so much. And then later, Wembley and Gobo thinking the Gorgs had TWO sunsets, having never seen a sunRISE! SO COOL. Lovely detail. Fantastic.

I LOVE Gobo's ideas for greeting the Fraggle Moon with the Gorg Moon. First trying to capture it (you'd think he'd have learned his lesson about capturing moons...), and then the MIRROR! Oh I am SO eager to see how the whole mirror thing will work out.

And I LOVE the interaction between Junior and Gobo and Wembley. First blocking them from the Rock so they couldn't steal the moon, and then carrying Wembley down and just being curious, not angry at all. I love Junior. And I love that he remembers Wembley! (I will try not to turn this into just me raving about how much I love the characters, but it's hard when you write them so well and I love them so much.)

I LOVE the conversation between Red and Boober. Glad they maintained some of that closeness from "Marooned." Red is NOT someone who would EVER openly admit to ANY sort of nerves... but with Boober, her secret is safe, and no one understands anxiety like he does. It's perfect.

I like that Gobo doesn't believe Red about the mirror. I've never understood why the Fraggles doubt Red so much--so far as we see in the show, she never claims any fantasy to be true... so it irritates me on the show, but for some reason, I don't mind it when you write it.

I LOVE Gobo's absolute determination to catch that moon, but that he regrets making Wembley suffer for it. He really is an incredible friend to Wembley, but he can also get very caught up in something when he sets his mind to it. You've certainly captured him very well here.

Love that Wembley's been dreaming about the Baby Tree Creature. I always did like him as Mama Wembley. Not surprised he's so excited to be a parent again!

And I love Doc's enthusiasm in explaining mirrors to Gobo. I would love to sit in on just about any given conversation those two have. They're both so curious about the world, and each other's worlds. I bet they could easily spend an entire day just talking with each other... much to the frustration of the other Fraggles, who want to play with Gobo!

And SPEAKING of which... HE'S MISSING IT! THE BABY'S BEING BORN AND GOBO'S MISSING IT! Ooh I HOPE he somehow gets there in time... and if not, I'm SO curious to see how he'll react to having missed it.

And Boober panicking! And Red ORDERING him to be calm. And then the detour with Sidebottom! Oh, goodness. I'm glad I read Runt, but even if I hadn't... SO emotional. Good stuff. And then Boober giving his stress and anxiety to Sidebottom! Oh, I LOVE it. "You LIVE like this?" Wow... Excellent stuff, really.

Very much looking forward to more of this story. So... More please! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !