The First Anniversary

A certain day brings back sad memories for Modo.

Disclaimer: I do not own BMFM

The First Anniversary

Charlene glanced over to the tan mouse sitting beside her at the kitchen table. He looked as he always did, calm and collected, but his twitching tail told another story. It took a lot to get him agitated to the point of showing it through his tail, unlike the other two mice. Vinnie had been positively thrashing his tail for the past few days. She hadn't seen Modo much lately, but knowing how sensitive the grey mouse was to the moods around him, she was willing to bet he'd probably taken out some furniture by now.

"So are you gonna talk or do we play 'twenty questions'?"

Throttle shifted uneasily as he looked to her. "We got a problem, Charley."

"What's wrong?"

"Its Modo." The tan mouse looked like he would rather be doing
anything than talk about this. "There's something coming up here soon, and it's a real bad day for him. "

She frowned in concern. "Something from the war?"

He nodded. "I don't want to ask this, since I don't like it, but can you get something for him? A bottle of wine, something really old and strong if you can. I don't have much, but I'll pay you back for it."

"Wine?" She had never seen the mice drink any kind of alcohol before. "Sure, I don't mind. But can you tell me why?"

Throttle tensed, and then quietly sighed. "It's his wedding
anniversary."

"I didn't know he's married," Charley said, smiling at the thought.

"He was," Throttle said, in that same quiet tone. "She was killed two years before we were taken from Mars."

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't mean to pry. What else will you need?"

"Someplace quiet," Throttle answered. "He likes to be alone, but I don't want him by himself while we're on Earth."

She frowned in concern. "You don't think he'd do something stupid?"

Throttle looked away. "I don't think that. I really don't. But he should not be alone, no matter what he says. Every year, he pulls more away from other people. He loves the kids, and he won't leave us, but he's not trying for anything more. Vespa wouldn't want that."

Charley nodded, touching the mouse's arm in reassurance. "I'll set everything up. Just drop him off here; I'll take care of him."

"Thank you, Charley-girl."

*&*&*&**&*&*&&&

Modo kept a solemn quiet as Throttle pulled into the garage. Lil' Hoss would refuse to let him ride anywhere on this particular day, without fail every year, so he had to hitch a ride with his bro. Throttle rolled to a stop, waiting until his friend stepped off before speaking. "If you don't want to stay here, she'd understand."

"You told?"

"You mad?"

Modo looked away. "Nah. What'd she say about it?"

"Nothing. Just said she'd take care of everything."

"What's that mean?"

"Don't know." He glanced back at his bro. "We'll call if something comes up."

"Nothing like pounding some baddies for stress relief," Modo's joke fell flat even in his own ears. "Later, bro."

"Later." The tan mouse went out for patrol, a worried look back his only show of concern. He prayed he hadn't put Charley in a bad situation. He seriously doubted Modo could get drunk on simple Earth wine, but the memories that would be shaken loose by the alcohol could cause a violent reaction in his normally calm bro.

Modo headed into the building, listening for his Terran friend.
"Charley-ma'am?"

"In here," came a faint answer from the kitchen. He headed that way, his nose twitching as something delicious teased his senses. He stopped still in surprise.

Charley was cooking?

The human girl had been trying to get them to try other Earth foods besides hot dogs, and while Vinnie was still holding out, the other two had been appreciating her efforts. His new favorite dishes were spread out on the kitchen table. Pot roast with potatoes and carrots, spicy green beans, even hot honey-chicken wings. She was kneeling next to the stove, having a struggle with something. "Charley-ma'am?"

"Modo? You're early," she said, pulling back with a huff of effort as she used a towel to pull something out of the oven. He almost gaped in surprise as he saw what she'd been doing. "But---you said you hate baking?"

She smiled as she gently shook out the hot loaves of fresh bread. "Normally, yeah, its not my favorite thing in the world. But I think I can withstand the awful ordeal and make something for a friend. You ever had hot bread with butter and spice?"

"No."

"Then you sit right there," she pointed to the table. "You'll love this." She cut a few thick slices of bread, buttering one side and sprinkling it with cinnamon and brown sugar. The sugar melted into the butter from the heat as she carried it over to him. "Take a bite."

His mouth was already watering from the scent of it, and he took a large bite of the treat. His eye closed in pleasure. "That's real good, Charley-ma'am."

"I used to love eating this with my grandmother," she said. "She was the real cook of my family. Taught me everything I know about it, and these are her recipes. I'll be right back, okay? Go on ahead and eat if you're hungry."

"Thanks, Charley, I appreciate it." He watched her head to the basement stairs. The grey mouse was touched that she would be so thoughtful, but he really wasn't in the mood for company today. He wasn't about to be ungrateful for all her efforts, though. She came back a minute later, holding a dusty bottle. "What's that?"

"This," she said with a small embarrassed smile, "was the reason most of my grand-uncles ended up in prison. Back in the 1930's was Prohibition, when alcohol was illegal, and my grandfather and his brothers ran a huge smuggling ring bringing stuff over from Canada. This is from their old stock." She winked at him, "Don't tell anyone, okay?"

He nodded, still a bit surprised. "You're giving it to me?"

"Nothing but the best for my friends," she said, wiping the bottle free of dust. The label was written in very old French. She pulled out a glass and popped the cork, pouring it half full. "Sorry I don't have any wineglasses, but this should do alright."

The girl placed it on the table and left the bottle by it, walking over to him and giving him a quick kiss to the cheek. "I'll be out back working on the truck, let me know if you need anything, okay?"

He gave a genuine smile, his first in a whole week. "Thank you, Charley-ma'am."

&^&^&^&^&^^

He'd been left to thoughts after that. Or rather, to his memories.

His beautiful Vespa. A sorrel-furred girl with long red hair, oh she could have had any mouse she wanted. Why she wanted him he would never understand. Clever and witty, and she loved exploring with him when they were younger. He ached for her every day since her death at the hands of the cruel aliens that had invaded their world.

He thought of their first date and smiled at the memory: how he had stammered and stuttered every time he tried to talk to her. Everything had gone wrong on that date, from his pants ripping to spilling their drinks all over her dress. He never knew what had made her decide to give him a second chance.

The memory of their first kiss made him close his eye against their innocence.

He thought of the day he purposed to her, how it had somehow all gone together perfectly for her. The pink seed flowers had been just right; the wine he'd bought was her favorite kind, the earring that had been in his family for generations looked perfect in her ear.

The memory of their wedding, the dancing and laughter, all his family together to celebrate their joy. He winced against the ache in his chest. It hurt so much. He could never have that happiness again, and it hurt.

He thought of when Vespa had snuck up behind him and whispered like a giggling child telling a secret that she was pregnant. They had spun around in circles, dizzy with elation. He couldn't wait to hold their baby, watch them grow, watch them learn and love and live.

The memory of holding her in his arms, the life gone from her and their unborn baby and the sound of his own screaming in grief--

Modo forced the image from his mind, locked it away or else he knew he would drown in that grief. He took deep breathes to push back the sobs that wanted to tear from his throat. He slammed back three glasses of the strong wine Charley had given him. He had to give this Earth wine some credit. It dulled the edge of his pain like the Martian wines never had. A futzed part of his brain wondered if she would mind sharing some more of this stuff.

The grey mouse thought back to happier times. Like when he'd asked Throttle and Vinnie to be his seconds at the wedding. The stunned looks on their faces had been priceless as the positions normally never went to anyone outside the groom's clan. But he'd been through so much with his bros, hell and fire and mortar. He truly couldn't think of any others he'd rather stand by his side. (Not to mention that all his other male relatives were far too young for the job, but he didn't tell them that.)

Vinnie and Throttle had loved her like their sister, much like they loved Charley now.

He knew Vespa would have liked Charley. They had a lot in common. Strong and brave and endlessly loyal. Fearing nothing, an almost reckless streak tempered with a healthy dose of common sense. Both were surprisingly artistic; where Vespa had loved to paint and sculpt, Charley created with metal. Modo knew down to his bones that they would have been best friends. He could almost see them putting their red heads together, plotting something devious for their boys.

Modo felt the sudden urge to go talk to Charley. Why, he didn't know, but somehow that just sounded like a really good idea. He got up from the kitchen table and headed to where he'd seen her head last, staggering a little as the ground decided to move. He frowned down at the floor, glaring it into submission, and found the mechanic coming in for the
night.