Ships Ahoy!

The Pet

A/N Sorry for not publishing the promised 2 chapters yesterday, readers. I'll see about amping it up to 3 per day, especially to get this story finished on here before the contest submission deadline next Saturday.

"What do you mean, more time?" Ms. O demanded, slamming down her juice box.

Oscar took a deep breath, trying not to get unnerved by her penetrative stare. He had a case to present for himself. "I don't want to switch over to Lab Director just yet, that's all."

Ms. O narrowed her eyes. "Your three years are nearly up. You've been looking forward to the Department of Science, and they need you over there. Why change your mind now?"

"I'm not changing my mind," Oscar quickly said. "I just want to ease into it a little more, that's all. Like, maybe I can work in the lab here and there when I'm not busy solving cases."

She wasn't fooled. "This is all because of Olive, isn't it? Have you even told her what your plans are?"

He pressed his lips together in a flat line. "No, I haven't. She doesn't know yet. I promise I'll tell her, honest, but that's why I want more time. So she can get used to the idea of me not being around until you find her a new partner. Y-y'know?"

"Are you sure that's the only reason?"

"No," he admitted. "The truth is I like being her partner. She always asks me questions and for help with gadgets." Oscar paused and, summoning all his courage, looked Ms. O in the eye. "Olive's going to be your best agent someday. I just know it. And I wanna help her get there."

Ms. O was silent for a few moments. "Alright, you told me about Polly Graph, so do as you like," she said abruptly. "But I want to see you as the Lab Director before ten years are up."

Ten years? That was more time than he could ever have hoped for. "Thank you, Ms. O!" said, grinning from ear to ear. "I-I-I'll get back to work now! I won't let you down!" And before she could tell him so, he dashed out of the office.

"So she can get used to it..." Ms. O repeated to herself. Her gaze fell on the framed Polaroid photo of her and O'Donahue on her desk. It had been taken the night they went to the movie premiere for The Empire Strikes Back, him in Han Solo garb and her dressed like Princess Leia. They'd both signed their names and dated it in the white space below: Oprah and O'Donahue, May 27, 1980. We were so happy, she thought with a sad sigh. Until it all changed so suddenly four years later. If only we'd had ten years to sort things out.

Ms. O glanced back up in the direction where Oscar had gone. He would make a good adviser, she mused, a little jealous of Olive. Eager to please, good at problem-solving, and, thanks to his years of job-hopping, a little skilled at everything. Plus I hear he can sew. She picked up her juice box again. But I'd better wait to offer him the position until he's talked to Olive. Give her time to adjust, or things could get real messy.

* * * * *

Things got real messy.

The next day, Oscar indeed got his haircut as promised—into an afro. Olive didn't see it at first until she wandered into the lab that morning to check in her Toothbrushinator for repair. Then she glanced up and dropped the gadget with a gasp.

Oscar started. "Olive! Um, uh, I was j-just fixing my Shrinkinator, c-cuz there were no other scientists available..." He looked around sheepishly, and it was clear that there were in fact several scientists available that could've helped him.

But though Olive saw through his lie, that of course was not why she had gasped. "No, it's not that! It's your..." she pointed at his face.

"My what? Oh! Yeah, my hair!" Oscar grinned and ran a hand through the curly bush. "I got it cut the other day. Thought it was time for a change, heh."