A/N: Surprise! An actual Bluebear fic. Mainly fluff and nonsense, but it's the thought that counts. I'm sorry it's so short and I know it doesn't do justice, but I just had an urge to fill my favorite book's category with REAL fanfiction (albeit written in haste), perhaps inspiring others to do the same. Excuse the rant. Do review.

Disclaimer: Alas! – I am not creative enough to be Walter Moers.


Mysterious

A bluebear has twenty-seven lives. I shall recount

thirteen-and-a-half of them in this book but keep quiet about

the rest. A bear must have his secrets, after all; they make

him seem attractive and mysterious.

Bluebear sat perched in one of the Great Forest's ample trees. It seemed like as good of a spot as any to think: high up in the branches with the leaves just slightly obscuring his vision. The sunlight streamed through the uppermost leaves, warming his fur – which was ever so slightly flecked with grey. He remembered reading once that sitting in a place where you have never sat before can be inspiring. And so he sat, waiting.

"Waiting for what?" you might ask. Hard to say; Bluebear wasn't too sure on this front himself. A revelation? A return of the good old days? A whiff of bonfires burning in the distance mingled with a hint of cinnamon? Either way, Bluebear had learned my now that if a chromobear feels the urge to reflect, well, then a chromobear needs to reflect.

And so he settled on his branch, waiting.

He could barely make out the spec of his old cottage in the distance. A deluge of memories came surging back to him of his too-perfect-to-actually-be-real time in the Great Forest. Avriel…Avriel making her famous vintage honey…Avriel walking into their log-cabin…Avriel sitting in the garden, re-reading Professor Abdullah Nightingale's Encyclopedia of Marvels, Life Forms and Other Phenomena of Zamonia and its Environs…Avriel serving him dumplings fresh off the stove.

Bluebear regarded the cottage fondly, a smile playing on his lips.

Just then he heard a rustle of leaves behind him, simultaneously coupled with a slight dip of the branch he was occupying. Bluebear shifted his gaze, just to confirm his guess, and – lo and behold – there sat Avriel, perched on the opposite side of his branch, reading his very own the 13 ½ lives of Captain Bluebear, hot off the Bookholm press.

It was so reminiscent of how he first met her that he broke into a full-out grin. Feeling he should say something, he voiced the thought that had been floating through his mind for some time now.

"I've really missed this place, you know?" He paused a pregnant pause, waiting for her response.

"Mmm," Avriel said without looking up from the book. Not until she had flipped a few more pages did she add: "I figured. Especially from the way you halted your memoir when you had only just begun vaguely talking about your life in the forest."

Bluebear frowned. "You think I should have continued?"

Avriel gave a noncommittal shrug of the shoulders, turning another page. "Why didn't you?"

"Well…" Bluebear stalled.

"Because you've left out some of the best stuff – were you afraid it would cast you in a less pleasing light?"

No answer.

"What about the time when you infiltrated Wolperting? Hmm? Or when we had to travel about Zamonia collecting parts to build that spaceship so we could attend Freda and Chemluth's Atlantian wedding? You didn't even explain how you became known as captain. In short, you've left off all of the adventures I accompanied you on." Avriel let out an angry huff. "And you excluded my personal favorite: when you managed to –"

Bluebear interrupted. He couldn't resist – it was his personal favorite too.

"You mean when I –"

"Yes."

"And asked you to –"

"Yes."

"But then I –"

"Yes, to little avail –"

"And contrived to make you –"

"Furious," Avriel said, only half serious.

"I was going to say 'fall in love again', but furious works just as well." Bluebear joked.

"Well," Avriel began, turning another page of the book, "why didn't you?"

Bluebear sighed.

"I already told you" was his mumbled response.

Her confused look forced him to elucidate. He carefully took the book out of her hands (lest she get a paper cut – it's a little known fact that paper cuts on a chromobear can be fatal since the thick fur impedes clotting) and flipped to the forth page, which, through some publishing gaff, was labeled "6" (he would really need to talk to his agent in Bookholm about that). He pointed to the first paragraph.

"'A bluebear has twenty-seven lives,'" Avriel read.

"Do go on."

She obliged. "'I shall recount thirteen-and-a-half of them in this book but keep quiet about then rest. A bear must have his secrets, after all; they make him seem…'"

"Yes?"

"'Attractive and mysterious.'"

"Exactly," Bluebear stated with the air of one just having proved his or her point.

"Oh."

They sat in silence for a few moments, each lost in thought.

"So," Avriel started, finally closing the book and balancing it skillfully on their branch. "You did this for me?"

"It's a possibility," Bluebear replied gazing fixedly at their old cottage again.

Avriel scooched closer to him on the branch.

"Well then I take back my original disapproval. That is actually very sweet. But…" She trailed off.

"But what?"

"I'd like to hear about the other thirteen lives again." She smiled expectantly.

"Well," Bluebear responded, while scooching closer to Avriel, "I think that can be arranged."

With that Bluebear regaled Avriel with their adventures together, which we – most unfortunately – will likely never be privy to, lest we risk endangering the attraction of Captain Bluebear's mysteriousness.


A/N: I hope you enjoyed this miniscule oneshot. That quote at the beginning is one of my favorites and always affords me a chuckle. ^^

Reviews are bliss, even if you wish to complain that I'm not Walter Moers.