Man's Best Friend:

(note: this story takes place roughly toward the middle of the 2nd season)

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Rollie Tyler leaned over the renowned Vickie Lassiter, applying the finishing touches to her makeup. The mask was incredible, making the woman in her middle thirties appear to be in her nineties. Every wrinkle, every grey hair was carefully put into place. Rollie was deep in concentration, perfecting the look. Then a large, wet, black object, poked under Rollie's arm and began sniffing at her face.

Rollie turned and stared into the face of a large, happy looking golden retriever.

"Oh no," Vickie said, "Sarah! Get this dog out of here!"

Vickie Lassiter's precocious four year old daughter, Sarah came bounding up, her brown pigtails bouncing with each step.

"Sorry, mommy," she said, grabbing the dog and leading him away.

"I'm sorry," Vickie said, "but she just can't go anywhere without that dog. She found him three days ago, and I didn't have the heart to say no. He's cute anyway. When I brought her to the set and tried to tell her the dog couldn't come, oh boy did I ever-"

"Ms. Lassiter," Rollie said patiently, "this would be much easier if you'd stop talking."

"Oh, right," she said, smiling.

The picture they were working on was a love story, set in New York. Vickie was playing an old woman telling the story of her greatest love. The critics were booing some, similiarities, between this and another popular movie, but the story line was different enough to overcome that. That and the prowess of Vickie Lassiter.

They had completed filming of most of the movie, and were working on the final scenes. One, was Vickie telling her story when her long lost love would reemerge seventy years later. The final ending scene was a giant one, where they would fire off a mountain of fireworks as the reunited couple looked on. Rollie and Angie had been planning that scene carefully, to prevent any mishaps.

"We're ready for Ms. Lassiter now!" someone yelled.

Rollie had just finished. He let her turn to the mirror. The face of a ninety three year old woman looked back.

"Oh my!" she gasped, "That's amazing!"

"That's what I do," Rollie said, "now get going."

He whipped the barber's apron off of her, brushed her off, and she left for the set. Angie walked up behind him.

"We've got all the fireworks stored in the supply room," she said, "we'll haul them out and mount them after this scene. The charges have already been set, and we've got markers out for where they go, I had some of the workers make sure there'd be no sparks in that area."

"Good," Rollie said nodding.

Angie started to squirm a bit.

"You want to go see her act, don't you?" Rollie said, giving her a one eyed stare.

"Oh, Rol," she said, nearly jumping up and down, "I've been a fan of Vickie Lassiter for years! To get to see her perform live-"

"All right, all right," Rollie said waving her off, "just be right back when we do this."

"Of course," Angie said, and ran off.

Rollie began cleaning up. A tiny hand tugged on his jeans. He turned and stared down at Sarah Lassiter, with her dog next to her.

"Hi," she said simply.

"Hello," Rollie said with a smile.

"How'd you make my Mom so old?" she asked, "Will she stay that way?"

"No," Rollie said, with a chuckle, "she'll be back to her old self soon. It's just a mask, and makeup, here I'll show you."

Rollie showed her some of the make up, fake hair, and latex he used in his art. She marveled and giggled as she touched the stuff. The dog barked.

"What's his name?" Rollie asked.

"I don't know," Sarah said, "I haven't thought of one yet."

"Oh," Rollie said, "well you'll have to call him something. How about Rover."

The little girl made a face and the dog whined.

"Maybe not," Rollie said.

Rollie glanced around.

"Well, I don't have much to do," Rollie said, "I think I'll go make sure the fireworks markers are set up right."

"Fireworks?" the little girl said, her face lighting up.

"Yes," Rollie said, "but that's too dangerous for you I'm afraid. Why don't you go watch your Mommy?"

The little girl shrugged.

"Ok," she said, and led the dog away.

Rollie smiled as he walked the other way.

Sarah considered going to see her mom, but the thought of fireworks loomed in her head. She walked around a bit, and saw one of the workers with a cigarette in his mouth, and a lighter. He set it down on the table, and walked away. She walked over and picked it up.

"Hey," she said to the dog, "wanna play fireworks?"

The dog whined, as the little girl ran off. She began flipping the wick on the lighter, but nothing happened.

"Must be broken," she said with a shrug.

She skipped down the path followed by her dog and spotted a wooden structure. She couldn't read the sign that read 'DANGER' on the door. Thinking of it as a playhouse, she glanced around, seeing no one she darted in. The door closed in the dog's face. The little girl gasped as she looked inside. Piled high were mountains of fireworks. She grinned, and ran up to a box. She flipped the wick under one, playing.

"Boom!" she yelled.

Rollie was looking carefully over the markers for where the fireworks would be placed. He was alone on the field as he made sure everything was set according to plan. He hoped everything would, for it was an extremely windy day, and it tossed his hair and jacket around him. Then he felt a tug on his pants. He turned to see Sarah's dog whining at him.

"What is it boy?" Rollie asked, "I'm kind of busy right now."

The dog barked and whined again. He ran off a few feet, then turned to Rollie staring at him, waiting. Rollie raised an eyebrow. But something about the dog's disposition moved him to follow.

The little girl was flicking the seemingly broken lighter under the various fireworks, imagining the colorful display and the awesome explosions. She ran around happily. Under one, suddenly, the lighter came to life. A flame popped out and lept across to one of the charges on a rocket. The little girl gasped and dropped the lighter on the ground, and then began to scream.

Rollie heard the little girl's yell as the dog led him to the enclosure. Rollie grabbed the door, but it was stuck. With a grunt and two swift tugs it pushed open. He stopped, and stared in horror at the flaming end of the rocket. Just then, a gust of wind knocked the door shut with a bang. The rocket went off with an explosion and a squeal and struck the far wall, lighting it a flame. Rollie grabbed Sarah around the waist, picked her up and ran to the door, sparks and smoke flying about.

The door was stuck again, this time harder than the last. Rollie banged against the door with his shoulder, but it wouldn't budge. He watched as the flames licked across the wall quickly toward another box of fireworks. Thinking fast he ran to the small window of the enclosure. Opening it, he dropped Sarah outside, and ordered her to run and get help. As he was speaking the fireworks lit, and blew. They fired off in all directions around Rollie, lighting the whole place afire, and singing his hair as one streaked past. The smoke and heat was intense and Rollie dropped to the ground coughing.

Sarah outside, ran toward where her mother was working, getting help. The dog sat outside of the enclosure, whining. He pawed on the door at first, and barked. But Rollie was lying on the floor, and was unable to push the door open, he was becoming too weak from inhaling the smoke. The dog backed up. It hunched down then took a brief run and a flying leap into the window. He landed beside Rollie, the flames just licking his fur as he passed into the enclosure, now completely on fire, and another few rockets went off.

The dog ran to the door and lept against it on it's hind legs, once, twice, three times. The door burst open. Rollie struggled to right himself, but the smoke filled every pour of his body and his eyes stung from the smoke and the chemicals the fireworks used to launch. In fact, several of the more sophisticated components that were burning were causing noxious fumes to fill the room as well, burning Rollie's lungs and bringing him to the ground again.

The dog ran up to Rollie and grasped his color in it's mouth. With a mighty tug he began to drag Rollie across the floor to the door. Rollie was nearly unconscious now, and he could do nothing to help the animal. Finally, mercifully, Rollie felt a burst of fresh air as he was dragged out of the inferno. It filled his lungs, reviving him somewhat. He managed to half crawl, half roll away from the enclosure, far enough away for safety as more rockets burst through the walls and windows.

He turned to the dog, looking at him through blurred vision. The dog had it's tongue out, panting. But something was different. From Rollie's point of view, it almost looked like the dog was, grinning. Rollie coughed a few times and heard footsteps of people running up a ways behind him. He heard Angie yelling his name.

The dog started to trot off at that. Rollie watched him bound away, disbelievingly,  then the dog stopped, and looked back at Rollie for a moment. He barked a few times, paused, then barked again. Then he took off and was gone. Angie reached Rollie at that point, and he heard several men getting fire extinguishers and water buckets. Someone had called the fire department and they were on their way.

"Rollie are you all right?" Angie asked, hugging him, "What happened?"

"I'm fine," Rollie said softly, coughing further, "I got caught in there. A fire got started, I started to pass out, but, that dog-"

Rollie stared at where he had last seen the retriever.

"It saved my life," Rollie said, "it was incredible Ang, and weird."

Angie and a few people helped Rollie to his feet, and over to a chair as the fire began to burn itself out, no more fuel left, the men fighting it began putting out the last remnants of the flames. Vickie Lassiter and her daughter came over to Rollie.

"I'm so glad you're all right!" she breathed, "And thank you, for saving my daughter's life!"

She gave him a quick hug. Rollie smiled slightly, then coughed further, bending over.

"Where's my dog?" Sarah asked.

"He left," Rollie said, "I don't know where he went. He'll probably be back."

"He must have gotten scared," Vickie said.

"I don't think so," Rollie said, "that dog lept into that fire and dragged me out. He saved my life, he's a hero."

Rollie shook his head.

"The way that dog looked at me, Ang," he said, "I swear, something about the way he looked at me, it was-"

"What Rol?" Angie asked.

Rollie shook his head.

"Nothing," he mumbled, "never mind."

Sarah had begun to cry.

"I want my dog," she said.

"It's ok, sweetheart," Vickie said, leaning over, "we'll get you another if he doesn't come back. You'd only had him a few days, and if he was that brave, he can take care of himself. Maybe somebody else needed saving."

"Yeah," Angie said, "I'll bet he's off saving people, that's why he had to go."

Sarah pouted.

"But I had just thought of a name for him and everything," she whined.

"Really?" Vickie said, "Aww. What, named him after your Uncle Carl?"

"No," Sarah said, wiping away a few tears, "a name just came in my head. It was perfect."

"What was that?" Rollie asked.

Sarah sighed.

"Leo."

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