Work Text:
The aftermath of the Game Show Killer was all over the news. Newspaper headlines screamed “Shock 'Til You Drop Canceled!” and segments of Bob Sparker's court case aired on the news. Arthur Gretel followed it all carefully, numbly. Sparker himself barely spoke during the case and what he did say to cameras was rehearsed and measured.
Arthur thought he might be imagining things, but he saw something haunted behind Bob's eyes now. A forced awareness that hadn't been there before.
The whole case brought back memories of his dear friend Cheryl at Rubyred, and how that had turned out. How perhaps she wouldn't have died if someone had listened to him.
This was yet another situation, Mr. Gretel thought, where no one won and everyone suffered.
Still, he wondered about Bob Sparker, wondered if that night had changed him or if everything would remain the same.
As it turned out, he wouldn't have to wonder for very long.
---
Mr. Gretel was grading papers one evening when there was a knock at his apartment door. Behind it was Bob Sparker himself, casting shadows in the brightly-lit hallway.
“I'm sorry I didn't call ahead,” Bob said quickly. There was an awkward moment of silence before Arthur understood – Bob hadn't called ahead because he was afraid that Arthur wouldn't want to speak to him.
Mr. Gretel smiled as warmly as he could muster. “Not a problem,” he said. “Would you like to come in?”
“I guess I owe you an apology,” Bob said a few moments later as his host poured them both glasses of water from the kitchen sink. “For last year. Calling you up like that and demanding to know your personal life story and then...” He trailed off. “Maybe I should have told you what was going on. Maybe you could have helped. You wanted to, I could tell.”
Arthur sat down at the table, his hands folded in his lap. “You don't need to apologize for that,” he said. “I was the one who called you first anyway, remember?”
“Yeah, I guess you're right. But I was angry at you after that, for a while,” Bob continued, turning his gaze to the floor, and Arthur raised an eyebrow in surprise. “I thought... maybe you'd made up the story, to scare me out of the industry. Because you disapproved.” He looked up, catching his former mentor's gaze. “Only it was all true, wasn't it?”
A wave of emotions hit the acting teacher. First red-hot fury, at the thought that anyone could think he had just come up such a personal, painful story. And then a gut-wrenching sympathy as he realized just how deep Bob's denial had run.
“Of course it was,” Arthur said, bitterness seeping through his voice. “Not that you'd be able to confirm it, either way. Even on her death certificate it says she died of a -” he moved his fingers in crude air-quotes - “'brain aneurysm.' They... they put a scarf around her neck at the funeral.” Now it was his turn to look away.
The two men were quiet for a moment before Bob asked, “Are you mad at me?”
Mr. Gretel removed his glasses and wiped at his eyes. He shook his head. “I understand what happened. Top Tier, Percy King, your show... it became everything you had. Of course you'd have convinced yourself of just about anything to keep it.” He sighed, putting his glasses back on his face slowly. “But in my opinion you've suffered enough without me holding a grudge against you, don't you think?”
Disbelief and then gratitude flashed across Bob Sparker's face as tears started to fill his eyes, too. “Thank you. Really, it means a lot.”
He abruptly stood up, walking to the living room of the studio apartment. Arthur followed him.
“Do you still have the tapes from the theater camp?” Bob asked.
“Yes, I do.”
“I -” Bob's lips curled back in hesitation. “Could we watch a bit of one? I don't wanna borrow any of them, I just -”
Mr. Gretel waved a hand. “Certainly.” He approached the stack of VCR tapes at the bookshelf and pulled out one labeled CAROUSEL. “How about this one?”
They sat on the couch, enraptured, watching as a teenaged Bob Sparker danced across the TV in an suit that was slightly too big for him. “God,” Mr. Gretel muttered, “getting the costumes for that show was an absolute nightmare.”
“Really?”
“Oh sure,” the teacher shrugged. “But it's like that every year. There's never enough money.”
Bob was silent as they continued to watch the television. “It's like seeing a ghost,” he murmured. He asked Arthur to stop the tape a few minutes later.
“So what will you do now? With your show canceled?” Mr. Gretel asked, putting the tape away in its place. When Bob didn't answer right away, he added, “Or will they be gearing you up for a comeback?”
The former game-show host sighed. “Boy, you really do know how it works up there.”
“I wish I could forget.”
Bob smiled, just a little. “I have a plan, though.”
“Oh, you do now?” Mr. Gretel replied.
Bob put a pointer finger to his lips in a shush motion. “Well, we'll just have to see how it all plays out, I guess.”
“I'm looking forward to it.”
They hugged, briefly. “Don't stay a stranger, okay?” Mr. Gretel said.
“I won't,” Bob promised. “And this time, I mean it.”