"Our gods are dead. Ancient Klingon warriors slew them a millennia ago. They were more trouble than they were worth."
(Worf, Star Trek: Deep Space 9, Homefront)
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Andrew and Joe made their plans as they made their way down to the garage, and the former had only just managed to squeeze himself back inside the box when he heard footsteps.

Tom and Helen were back.

Andrew pretty much went through the motions for a while. Vaguely he listened to the pair recount how they had managed to evade any and all detection by the authorities, trying not to laugh at the same time; to do so would undoubtedly ruin everything.

"The Can is grateful for your assistance," Joe said reverently. "Surely now the message of the one Way can be passed onto the others who need it the most."

"And for that I am eternally grateful..." Andrew added after a few seconds' hurried thought, making sure to keep his voice to the same high pitch as it had been the first time around.

There was then a relatively long and agonising pause before he heard a reply. "We were glad to do anything we could to help," Helen said almost breathlessly. "I mean, that's always been our motto in life - mine and Tom's - if we can help somebody then we will, to the best of our ability..." she trailed off uncertainly and again, Andrew wasn't sure what he wouldn't have given to see the expression on her face tight about then.

He wasn't aware of the passage of time until Joe eventually chipped in again. "I believe I speak on behalf of the Can, Friend Helen," he said seriously, "when I say that your efforts were both admirable and worthwhile, and perhaps now our Work can be carried out that much more quickly."

"And in times such as these, it becomes imperative to spread the message of my Word to all those who have yet to hear it," Andrew added, then realising he had probably said too much; it didn't seem to matter though, as he was immediately reassured by the pair that the 'message' of the Can would undoubtedly get across to those who needed to hear it. It really was laughable. Jesus Christ almighty... give these two a bible the size of a pea and they'll start bashing it. Heh.

Once again, Andrew was limited by the fact that unless someone said something, he had very few clues as to what was happening in the garage; on the way down from the flat, he and Joe had very briefly discussed what they were going to do once Tom and Helen returned from the bank (assuming, of course, that they hadn't been caught or done anything blindingly stupid), and Andrew was now waiting for his friend's cue to set the ball rolling.

However, it didn't appear as though it was going to start anytime soon, and once again Andrew was acutely aware of a lack of sensation growing at the top of his legs, although this time it was semi-happily ignored.

The charade between Andrew and Joe, and Tom and Helen continued for some time (filled mostly with empty platitudes and so forth along the general lines of, "I promise thee eternal salvation, my children, for helping me thus far..." among other things) before Joe at last provided the cue that his friend had been waiting for.

"...however, Friends," he continued on in the same deepened voice, this time with the barest hint of faked sadness in it, "I fear that the Can has not much time left in the world of mortal beings."

About bloody time... Andrew took a couple of deep breaths to centre himself and, from somewhere in his throat that he wasn't entirely sure existed, began to make high-pitched whiny noises, both quietly and munch louder, picking the pitch at random.

After just a few seconds he could hear gasps of shocked surprise from Tom and Helen, grinned to himself, and slowly, with one foot... ever so carefully stretched his right leg out in a certain direction, pulling down with the heel of his shoe one corner of the fabric that had been oh-so-carefully draped over the two cardboard boxes... another inch, another... the moving cloth was barely noticeable, until...

The glorified tin can fell onto the concrete floor of the garage with a resounding SMACK! and rolled for a little while before apparently stopping some distance away from the boxes.

"My... my children..." Andrew rasped, his voice sounding unnaturally pale even to himself, "...I'm leaving... this world... do... not... forget... the Way..."

He lapsed into silence, took a deep breath and waited to see what would happen.

It took less than a minute, and it was Helen who broke the deathly silence in the garage. "No..." she whispered, and it was followed by rapid footsteps that quickly faded; it sounded as though she was running away.

More footsteps followed them, and still Andrew remained silent, waiting to see (or hear) what would happen. Come on Joe... do something... anything... bloody do something!

He got his answer by way of an arm reaching into the box from behind him - it scared the shit out of him before he realised that Joe was trying to help him get his legs straight again; after a few minutes of silent work, Andrew was once again sitting against the wall of the garage, while Joe slipped over to the door to look outside.

A minute later he had rejoined Andrew, crouched down next to his friend. "They've gone outside," he whispered, "but not too far. I think she's crying."

"What?" Andrew asked incredulously, barely keeping his own voice down.

Joe shrugged awkwardly. "Guess she took the whole can thing more seriously than I thought. Some people are like that, I guess they need some sort of crutch to lean on. Give their life some kind of meaning, that sort of thing."

"But we've got the money?" Hey, that was the reason they'd done all of this in the first place.

Joe nodded. "Should be enough to cover rent for the next couple of months, until we get jobs."

Slowly, almost painfully, Andrew stood up. "Want to see what's on TV?"

"Sure." Joe shut the garage door carefully, picked up the two bags containing the money, and the pair went back up to their flat.

All told, it had been a good day's work.