A/N: This is a little old too—I wrote it pretty much the second after I first saw Rhyme and Reason when it aired, and just recently edited it! I have no clue why I liked that episode so much; I just did. Still do, actually. XD

I was actually pretty happy with the way this one turned out! Hope you enjoy!

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Rain streamed down the window pane, the drizzle softly rattling it in its wooden frames. Priscilla purred contentedly, very nearly asleep. Violet sat in the window seat, gently stroking the cat on her lap in a nearly robotic motion.

So Becky is WordGirl... she thought quietly to herself. Again. She was sure that there must be a way she could phrase it that would make it seem like the normal, everyday truth.

Yet somehow, it didn't seem to work.

She had been Becky's best friend—(Well, she'd thought she had been...)—for years now. A week hadn't gone by in which they hadn't talked and laughed and watched the world pass by.

Yet Becky had always rushed off with something odd to do nearly every day she could remember. Always something peculiar, like to get a new pencil sharpener, or to practice the trombone, or to... plant corn.

It had been warm and sunny this morning, but now rain poured from the sky. That was what corn liked. It made sense that Becky wanted to plant it today, if you reasoned it.

Violet's hand faltered, and she glanced out the window, tears welling in her eyes. Priscilla looked up sleepily, hoping it wasn't the end of being petted. The blonde stroked her again, but more slowly this time.

"Best friends don't keep secrets from each other, right?" she asked herself softly, gaze distant. "That's why they're best friends... they can tell each other anything."

She was a little ashamed to admit she usually daydreamed in Logic. But if anything, she did recall that if A equals B, A is the same as B. When you don't have B, you never had A.

If they were best friends, they wouldn't keep secrets. They kept secrets, therefore, they weren't best friends.

The girl's eyes became watery of their own accord, and she blinked a few times, not trusting herself to think on the subject more without crying.

Blink blink.

The tears went back for now, and to perhaps just the air, Violet poised one last, sorrowful question.

"...I'm not wrong on all this, am I?"

Priscilla only looked content with the attention she was receiving—however shaky it may have been—and gave her no reply.

The blonde girl dipped her head mournfully, and her pet could barely catch her quiet words.

"...That's what I was afraid of."

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He was packing. He was packing, and that was all that he was doing.

Reason began carefully setting his clothes into the little suitcase he'd toted around with him for years. A stack of his neatly folded clothes sat next to it on the creaky old bed. The place they were staying at was nice, and it was clean, but he guessed nobody'd been in the rooms for ages. Probably not many people stayed at an old hotel with a sign that read VILLAINS WELCOME out front.

It was a nice oddity, for once. They'd slept better in the empty silence than they had in weeks. Not to mention the continental breakfast was really, really good. Rhyme's hot cocoa was inevitably turned to icy chocolate milk, as always. Today, with the addition of frozen marshmallows.

She'd insisted he try some of it. It was actually really good.

No.

He firmly pushed away his thoughts, concentrating on keeping an unemotional face, and set another outfit into the suitcase. So it was the first time he'd left her side in the years they'd been villains. So what? He didn't care. There was absolutely no one on earth who didn't care less than he did. Didn't care more. Whichever.

So what if they were best friends? Real friends don't let you get thrown in jail because of them. Real friends would ask for their partner's opinions before they went and did ridiculous things. Real friends would always be there for you. That's what he always did. But her? Nope.

He smoothed down the article of clothing he'd stacked.

She's always there for you, she just isn't the best person to confide in. He'd done it anyway. She asks your opinion a lot. She just gets carried away. That was true on a lot of levels, he thought with an old tinge of embarrassment. She apologizes and never, ever leaves jail without you. She wouldn't even think of it, even when you say it would be better all things considered. She was ridiculous and illogical and boy did he miss her.

...He needed to quit thinking about this. He'd made a reasonable decision. She needed to learn some things on her own. He'd been tossed in prison, moved around a ridiculous number of times, and dragged into crimes he didn't want to commit—for years, mind you—all because of her. It was high time she learned the consequences of her own actions.

Still, his stoic mask was slowly slipping as he tentatively set the last piece of clothing in the suitcase. He drew back and looked at it quietly, unaware of the saddened look that was growing on his face.

He always did his best to keep his word; they both did. And he'd said he was leaving.

He took a slow, shallow breath, and let it out. He couldn't be there to reason with her every step of the way.

She was just going to have to be on her own this time.

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Sad, mad, bad, fad, had...

Feeling, stealing, reeling...

Worried, hurried—

Scared, dared—

Alone—uh... provolone!

Rhyme stared sullenly off into space despite her phonetic victory.

Oh come on, rhymes were coming to her NOW, as she sat cold and alone and wet on a cold lonely wet park bench with no one to share them with.

They were terrible rhymes anyway. Never mind.

Rhyme quietly glanced off at a nearby puddle that was filling slowly with water. She liked puddles; they meant she could ice skate any time of the year. But it was no fun without someone to watch out for her, in case she super-slipped and slid into a tree or a bush. Or a pond. That was pretty funny. There was nobody she could happily drag into skating with her, either.

She stared off into the rain again, the memories not lifting her spirits.

Fifteen years, that was how long. They were the best of friends, despite their enormous differences. She really liked that—how they could be polar opposites and still get along so well. She thought their partnership was the greatest—and she'd always thought he did too, at least as far as she could tell.

There, she'd managed one long, vague, rhyme. Hope wasn't entirely lost.

But maybe her friendship was.

He'd only been the only person to say hi to her on the playground when she was ten. He'd only been the single reason she'd passed her math classes in junior high. He'd only been the person who made her ice show extravaganza possible in high school. He'd only been the one friend who stopped by to see her every chance he got when he went to college and she didn't. There was no other person she could think of who would've agreed to try the supervillain thing—just because of her.

They'd moved dozens and dozens of times. They'd been arrested. They'd been in prisons that weren't decent. They'd moved some more. They'd stolen, destroyed things, and snuck and pillaged their way into villain rankings.

Reason didn't like to drive, but they had to move. So he took his beloved, little old car and drove. All because of her.

She'd ignored him in favor of her own ideas, and he'd gotten fed up. And now he was gone.

All because of her.

She lifted her glasses and wiped a tear away before it fell to join the many raindrops that drizzled down from the stormy gray sky.

She was soaked to the skin, and her hair probably looked scary, but she ignored it. It was her fault Reason left. Moping in the rain made that no better, but it at least made her feel tolerable of herself. She needed to learn her lesson, and making herself a little uncomfortable might be a bit of a start. Certainly better than feeling guilty for going inside to be warm and dry without Reason.

She rested her chin in her hands and stared down at the wet sidewalk, feeling very, very melancholy. A lone, gray squirrel hopped by, seeming almost equally sad, and with an equally wet coat of fur.

Rhyme merely closed her eyes and sighed, letting the rain stream down her glasses, mingled with silent tears.

Reason wasn't coming back.

And it was all because of her.

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Her wet hair was matted and it hung limp and cold on her neck, but Becky didn't notice. She was far too forlorn.

'...Not... friends?' was the question that kept running through her mind. It ran and ran, around and around in circles, until it was like a bad tune stuck permanently in her head.

Tears stung at her eyes as she stared dejectedly off at some corner of her bedroom wall. A few notes hung there, secured in place with a signature WordGirl sticker.

'Pick up Glitterhooves from Violet's house,' read one reminder. Glitterhooves was a very sparkly pony, and Violet had adored the thought of trying to capture it on paper. Becky, happy to see her friend happy, lent her the figurine.

...Just... not friends... her mind repeated to her. Becky flinched as the thought blared through her subconscious. She didn't need to hear those words again—once had been enough!

'Pretty Princess Marathon! With Violet; get snacks and paper.' They had planned that marathon ever since it first appeared on the 'upcoming titles' screen of their TV. Violet had had the great idea to put their favorite thoughts down on paper.

That worked for both of them—Becky would write and Violet would draw. She'd needed to pick up some plain white paper from the store though; all hers was lined. Violet wouldn't have minded, but Becky wanted to do something nice for her best friend, especially in case her drawing turned out to be amazing. It always did.

This tiny, uplifting thought caused her to cease slightly from her dejected expression, and glance at a still-wet Bob, who had been watching her in concern. He smiled sadly and gave a little thumbs-up, but her mind was already gone again.

'...Friends shouldn't lie to each other...' her brain reminded her in a murmuring mantra.

A tear slipped down her cheek, but she barely noticed. It was true, it was true, it was true.

'...because... they shouldn't... have to.'

But she did have to! She had always hated the thought of lying to her family and friends. She just had to. Why couldn't anyone ever get it? She didn't do it because she wanted to! She was trying to protect them!

Her eyes watered, and her shoulders shook slightly as she sniffled.

That didn't make it right.

But what was she supposed to do?