So I just watched Enchanted (more like..was dragged to Enchanted) and I absolutely loved it, to my surprise! And for some reason, I was inspired to write a little (obviously I like reading other people's fanfics more than writing my own).

Without Magic

Robert turned over in bed, groaning. He had been like this for the last six hours, the day after he had witnessed a live stepmother-dragon for the first time.

"Morgan, what do I do?" Giselle asked, worried. Her stringy locks stuck to her forehead, and she placed her cool fingers on his temple. "His forehead feels like its burning."

"It's called a fever." Morgan said. To tell the truth, she was afraid herself. Her dad had always been invincible, her protector against the bogeymen lurking under her bed, her guardian who sang the Itsy Bitsy Spider to lull her to sleep. "Is there anything you used to do for sick people in Andalasia?"

"No one really got sick there. It was really a…perfect place."

"So did you prefer it there?" Morgan asked a little too casually. She looked away at first, studying the picture of herself on the table next to the bed, but her eyes settled back onto Giselle's face, attempting to scrutinize her expression.

"Andalasia was a little…too…perfect. It was so..flat." Giselle waved her arms around, searching for the right words to explain how she felt. "After I came here it was like I was bombarded with feeling, and everything had a little more color. I didn't like it at first--it was like I was suffocating in all the bustle, the sounds, the lights." She touched Morgan's cheek softly. "I think you were the first person who actually comforted me, believed in me."

Morgan blushed. "Thanks," she whispered.

"But after some time, I realized this world was more real, and invoked more in me than anything I had experienced before. Everyone had more dimension, a little bit more magic inside of them, if you could believe that…"

"Uhph," grunted Robert, capturing both girls' attention.

"He's waking up. Finally!" Morgan said.

His eyes fluttered open, "Morga…oomph!" Morgan had jumped on him, engulfing him in a hug. He buried his nose in her hair. "Hey..."

"Hi, Robert," Giselle whispered, palms hot, her heart beating furiously, standing a couple of feet away from the bed. They had kissed yesterday on that roof, but what if it had only happened in the heat of the moment, what if he had only been thanking her? What if he didn't remember anything after that…fever?...what had Morgan called it? What if…what if...

"Giselle," Robert smiled at her, the crinkle of his lips reaching all the way up to the corner of his eyes. She knew it! She knew from that smile that he had remembered everything, and she knew everything would be perfectly fine.

--ONE YEAR LATER--

"It's not magic?" Giselle asked, puzzled, watching water flow from the faucet.

"No. Not really." Morgan explained, amused at Giselle's wide-eyed expression. Ever since her dad and Giselle began officially "dating"--that magical day last year when Morgan began officially believing in fairy tales--Giselle was forced to cope with advances in human technology. She slowly learned how to use a phone, a copying machine, and an electrical toothbrush, and how to copy her dress patterns onto paper so that her employees could make identical dresses using a sewing machine.

"I know water comes from pipes, but where do the pipes come from?" Giselle asked, curling her red hair around her thumb. "Does it have something to do with the electricity?"

Explaining electrical outlets during dinner six months ago had inevitably lead to discussing power-plants and fossil fuels, which led to a discussion of global-warming, a conversation that left Giselle distraught and overwhelmed over the destruction of the planet and her furry friends.

"Well, it's a little dramatic to say 'destruction'." Robert had reasoned, frowning at Morgan. "Anyway, there's really nothing we can do about it tonight." Giselle had accepted his logic, but still went to bed troubled.

"Yes, it does have something to do with electricity." Morgan explained. "And then the water goes through the pipes to a big building that cleans that water, and then it comes back through the pipes and flows into your sink. It's a big cycle."

"Really? So the water that I use now will come back?" she applied a thin layer of toothpaste to her brush, eyes bright, excited.

"Mmmhmmm." Most of all, Morgan loved that she had a female figure in her life who also served as her confidante. Giselle took her down to shop on the weekends to teach her how to sew, and she would take Giselle to her favorite fountain and share all her eight-year old hopes and dreams and ambitions, and Giselle, with her pure, untarnished heart, treated them with delicacy and respect.