1Scar Tissue - CHAPTER ONE

By: Fala "The Bus Esta Muerto" Tzipori

Written: Winter, 2006
Fandom: Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends
Rating: R
Genre: Romance, angst
Pairing(s): Wilt/Eduardo
Warnings: Slash (same-sex relations), sexuality (fairly explicit in future chapters), mature situations, implied child abuse and sexual violence, strife and fluff.

Plot: Eduardo finds himself in an uncomfortable position. Fortunately, Wilt has always been there to help a friend in need, but will his charity get him in too deep?

Spoilers: None, I don't think.

Thanks and dedications: Praises pile high like the rubbish on the floor of my flat for Cousin Sarky who is, hands down, the most extraordinarily ace beta reader on the face of the internet. Seriously, I cannot thank you enough. Really, thank you for putting up with me and slogging through all thirty-some pages of this. You rule beyond words. A side note to Danni, aka Xellinamazoku, aka Grips from inspiring me to try my hand at these two in the first place. Lots o' loff to ye, dear.

Disclaimers: Wilt, Eduardo, and the characters in this story belong to Craig McCracken. Here's hoping he's not reading this right now, else his next appearance will be sans eyeballs (having ripped them out with sporks). In any case, they're his, not mine (both the eyeballs and the aforementioned characters, mind you) and will be returned in almost working order.

Story Notes: This takes place shortly after Bloo arrives at Foster's while Eduardo is still fairly new himself (he's only been there for a few months). Also, in case you didn't catch the previous warning, this fic DOES CONTAIN SEXUAL CONTENT. Don't like it? Don't read it. Otherwise, enjoy!

Scar Tissue

There was something about Eduardo that caught Wilt's attention right from the outset. From his very first day at Foster's, when he, Eduardo, was brought in, crying and scared, Wilt had taken a special interest in the big imaginary friend. He'd made it his personal duty to see that Eduardo settled happily into his new home. Though Eduardo had, at first, been afraid of the tall, heavily scarred imaginary friend, Wilt was patient and eventually won him over. He'd been at Foster's for scarcely four months now and the two were the best of friends. They'd shared a great many things in their time together and one could almost say that they knew each other inside and out. Almost.

However, nothing in those four months had prepared Wilt for the sight he met one fateful morning in the hallway.

Wilt came downstairs, en route to the dining room for breakfast, to find Eduardo apparently attached to one of the supports in the main hall. Actually, it appeared at first that what he was doing was rubbing up against the pillar much in the way that a bear scratches its back against a tree. However, there was one significant difference. He was most definitely not scratching his back as it was his entire front that was pressed up to the column, grinding ferociously against the smooth, marble surface.

Sensing an intrusion, Eduardo's head snapped up and he froze under Wilt's dumbstruck gaze.

"Sorry!" Wilt said automatically, when nothing else would come to him.

Eduardo, reason slowly returning, very delicately went about peeling himself off of the pillar and backing away from it. He looked bewildered and possibly a trifle ill.

Wilt asked, "You okay, Ed?"

Still wide-eyed and startled, Eduardo nodded slowly. "I think so . . ."

"If it's okay to ask," Wilt said, sensing he might be crossing into forbidden territory, "what was that all about?"

The other imaginary friend shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know," he said, confusion and possibly a note of frustration evident in his voice. "I wake up this morning and I feel really . . . off."

Wilt leaned in close to study his friend, concerned. "Are you ill?"

Eduardo shook his head. "I no feel sick, just . . . weird."

Surely enough, the other friend's face betrayed no signs of ailing except maybe the warmth of a fever, though even that could have just been embarrassment.

Mentally kicking himself for barging in on . . . something, Wilt suggested, "Breakfast?"

Seeming grateful for an excuse to put this behind him, Eduardo nodded. "Si," and they trekked downstairs.

At first it seemed that they had, indeed, put the incident behind them. They sat down to a full, fried breakfast (the first Sunday of every month meant Frankie's "Famished Lumberjack Special") just as always. The new guy, Blooregard "Bloo" Kazoo, was in the middle of some joke about a hedgehog, and Coco bade them good-morning with her usual goggle-eyed smile, her tongue poking out of her beak.

Platters were passed round the table, eggs, bacon and pancakes piled up on everyone's plates and breakfast proceeded without incident. Wilt, who had helped himself to a healthy portion of sausages and fried tomatoes, discreetly swivelled his good eye round so that he could watch Eduardo out of the corner of it. The other imaginary friend seemed to have overcome whatever it was that had affected him and was happily working away at a mountain of eggs that resembled a small, screaming-yellow volcano. Satisfied, Wilt turned his attention to his plate and eagerly tucked in.

Twenty minutes into the meal, Wilt was about to ask Eduardo if he had any washing that needed doing today. Before he could get as much out, he noticed that his friend was trembling and seemed to have trouble sitting still. At first, Wilt was content to ignore this, for courtesy's sake. However, by the time they were finished their breakfast, the trembling had escalated to full-scale squirming in his seat and frantic crossing and uncrossing of knees. He'd gripped his fork so hard in his cloven hoof that he'd bent it in half.

Eduardo wasn't the smallest friend at the table and as such, his actions were equally large-scale and obvious. A few other friends were surreptitiously sneaking glances at him and Wilt realised he could not longer pretend it wasn't noticeable. Ignoring the stares, he lifted his hand, placing it on Eduardo's forehead. He nearly jumped out of his seat, finding that the other friend was giving off as much heat as a small furnace. Eduardo turned to look at him in surprise, and Wilt could see that he was, indeed, flushed. In addition, the sudden physical contact had him shaking even worse than before. "You are running one heck of a fever," Wilt commented, his good eye wide. "You should really go up and see Frankie so she can give you some meds for that. I'll go with you, if you want."

Eduardo managed a single nod, and creaked out a weak "Si, por favor." Wilt took his hoof and helped the other friend disengage himself, still shaking, from his chair.

By the time they'd reached Frankie's room, Eduardo had calmed down a bit and Wilt was subtly flexing his fingers, which had been squeezed to the point of crushing when he'd led his friend upstairs.

"So what seems to be the problem, here?" Frankie asked in her best school nurse voice, swivelling round in her rollie-chair to face the two. They had taken seats on her bed, balanced oddly on the mattress that sank dramatically beneath the massive imaginary friend. Eduardo wasn't shaking anymore, but he was sitting with his knees firmly together, his cloven hooves fidgeting in his lap.

"We're really not sure," Wilt answered for his friend. He was inclined slightly to the left on account of the mattress sloping to accommodate Eduardo's weight. "He says he doesn't feel sick, but I think he's running a fever."

"Fever, eh?" Frankie murmured in the clinically rhetorical manner utilised by health professionals everywhere. She popped open the first aid kit on her desk and dug out a thermometre. She handed this to Eduardo, who took great care in putting it in his mouth without shattering it between his teeth.

"Do you feel sleepy at all?" she asked.

Eduardo shook his head and the tiny sprig of glass clinked against an incisor that was twice its length. Seeing as he had the thermometre and couldn't easily speak for himself, Wilt added, "Actually, he's been pretty energetic all morning. He could hardly sit still today at breakfast."

Frankie made a noncommittal "hm" noise. "So he did have breakfast and kept it down okay?"

Eduardo nodded and Wilt added, "So far, so good."

"Okay, then it's not the flu," Frankie noted, reciting from a mental list of symptoms. "Sore throat?"

Eduardo shook his head, no.

"Runny nose? Dizziness?"

No and no.

Frankie frowned a bit, clearly stumped. Her eyes flickered with query behind a few wisps of auburn fringe and she reached for the thermometre. "Well, you are a little warm, but I don't think it's a fever," she mused aloud, wiping off the little glass instrument with an antibacterial tissue. "What about abnormal behaviour? Anything weird happening with you?"

Wilt bit his lip, and looked to Eduardo. The other friend had a deer-in-headlights look, but finally gave an embarrassed nod of assent. Wilt told Frankie what he'd seen earlier that morning. When he'd finished, he noticed Eduardo studying the floor in detail and looking distinctly uncomfortable, so he placed a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. Eduardo shivered at the touch, but did not pull away. In fact, Wilt could have sworn that for a moment, Eduardo had actually been leaning into his palm.

Frankie herself appeared a little uneasy. Wilt looked to her for the answer she was clearly trying to decide how to give. Finally, after a brief, contemplative wringing of fingers, she spoke. "Er, Ed, I don't really know how to tell you this," she said very carefully. " But, I think you're in heat."

Wilt's jaw dropped. Eduardo lifted his gaze from the floor and stared at her.

Frankie quickly launched into explanation, her hands dancing animatedly in the air with her words. "It's perfectly normal. Well, actually, I've never seen it happen to an imaginary friend, myself, but it's not unheard of. Your girl wasn't very young when she imagined you if I remember it right, so she was probably a bit more well-informed about these things . . . Also, a lot of other cultures aren't as touchy as Americans are about it and kids are taught early on. Or it could be that the family just had un-fixed pets in the house and the kids learned from seeing them-"

"Broken pets?" Eduardo interrupted. He looked mortified.

"Er, no." Frankie gave him a strange look. "The point is that your creator was obviously mature enough to, how shall I say this? . . . Equip you with all the trimmings and now you're in heat."

Eduardo tilted his head at a questioning angle. "Heat? But is the middle of Febrero. Is very cold outside."

Wilt, who had been pressing his knuckles to his teeth, nearly sheared the skin right off them.

Frankie blinked. "Ed, do you even know what it means to be in heat? Did anyone ever tell you about the birds and the bees?"

Eduardo nodded enthusiastically.

"Okay, let me rephrase that. Did anyone ever tell you about sex?"

Eduardo looked blank.

At this point, Wilt couldn't have felt more awkward if he were a tightrope-walking antelope balanced between two lions. He stood, possibly a little too quickly. "Should I wait outside?"

"That's probably for the best," Frankie agreed, watching him go. Sighing resignedly, she thought for a moment, then reached into the first aid kit and retrieved a lollipop, which she handed to Eduardo. "You might want to get comfortable. This could take a while."

Approximately two hours later, Frankie's door flew open and Wilt found himself on the receiving end of six hundred pounds of hysterical, sobbing Eduardo.

Frankie followed shortly after and shoved what appeared to be her entire stock of lollipops into the still stunned Wilt's hand. They crushed into his palm with a weak squeal of cellophane. She threw him a worried, pleading look and mouthed "take care of him."

Not quite over the shock, Wilt nodded mutely and turned to follow his friend who had taken off, howling, in the direction of their room.

Once he reached the door, Wilt paused. He could hear Eduardo wailing inside and decided it might be best to give his friend a moment alone. That way, he could also ensure that no-one walked in on him.

Whilst Wilt was performing the role of doorman, Frankie passed by, mop in hand. He flagged her down.

"He didn't take that very well at all," she commented, shifting the mop handle so that it leaned against her shoulder. "Then again, when Grandma first told me where babies come from, I had nightmares for a week."

Wilt just nodded.

"Look, I realise it probably won't be that comfortable for him to sleep in a shared room," Frankie said, a sympathetic half-smile tipping her mouth, "so I talked to Herriman and you two can take the sitting room. Convinced him that it's the basketball playoffs latenight showings all week for Ed's Ecuador Guerreros and your Big Apple Dunklings. Good thing the bunny's not a basketball fan." She dropped Wilt a wink.

He managed a smile in return, then asked, "So, that's how long this is going to go on for? A week?"

"Not sure, really," Frankie said. "I looked up some stuff on the internet for a few different animals, and their cycles can last up to a month or even longer sometimes."

When she saw the dread etching itself onto Wilt's features, she lifted a finger. "But, if you want my personal theory," she said, "I gave it a little thought . . . Eduardo's not an animal, he's an imaginary friend who was created by a human girl. And being human and a girl myself," she wrinkled her nose, "Well, I'd give it about a week."

The tall imaginary friend shuffled his feet uncomfortably and Frankie had to suppress a laugh. Boys. Girls might not have any trouble talking about their girlie issues, but it never failed to freak out even the maturest of guys. "And hey, sorry to dump this whole business on you," she added. "You're his best friend and somehow, I don't think Coco or Bloo would've been right for the job."

He had to agree with her there. "It's all right, I understand."

"Yer, well, I just have to ask," Frankie said, and it appeared to be her turn to look uncomfortable. "Do you, yourself, ever . . . You know . . ." She fidgeted with the mop.

Wilt felt his face grow warm and his throat tighten toward the back. His little girl had been fairly young, but she had seen -and experienced- all too much for someone her age. Wilt knew quite well that she had neglected to endow him quite on purpose.

Frankie regarded him expectantly, her face tinged with pink. He looked away and shrugged, trying to sound casual as he forced memories back behind their respective mental blocks. "I . . . I know the basics of it, if that's what you mean," he answered guardedly, apparently fascinated with the toe of his shoe.

Fortunately, this seemed to satisfy Frankie and she shifted the mop to her other shoulder. "Right, well, just try to keep an eye on him, okay? I don't want this to get all round the house. The others might start making comments and he'd never get any peace."

"I'll try," Wilt promised and she smiled gratefully, plucking one of the lollipops from his hand. He blinked and looked down, only then realising that he was still holding them.

"Thanks, Wilt. If you need any help, just ask me, okay?"

"Okay," he answered, and she continued down the hallway. He watched her till she disappeared round the corner, his uncertainty growing with the distance between them.

Wilt decided to wait outside for just a bit longer, till the weeping (since his conversation with Frankie, it had, indeed, died down from full-scale bawling to good, old-fashioned weeping) from the other side of the door quieted down. Soon enough, when he could no longer hear anything more than the occasional whimper, Wilt knocked on the door. "It's me, Ed. Can I come in?"

Several seconds passed before he heard a feeble, reluctant "Si," in response. Mindful not to drop the lollipops, he pushed the door open.

Eduardo was curled up in the top bunk where he slept. He had the duvet drawn up to his nose so that only his eyes, the top of his head and horns were visible, and he was peering miserably out at the world.

"Hi, Ed," Wilt said, trying to be as upbeat as possible. He took a moment to place the handful of lollipops safely under the lower bunk where he slept, having learned through experience that if sweets were to remain uneaten, they had to be placed out of the sight of Bloo. He pulled one 'pop from the pile and climbed onto the framework of the lower bunk so that he could rest his elbows on the edge of Eduardo's mattress. The friend in question scooted a small ways away.

"Hey, it's okay," Wilt said reassuringly, holding out the lollipop in offering.

"No, is not," Eduardo whimpered from behind the blanket. He still had tears in his eyes. "Is so embarrassing!"

"Aw, you don't have to be embarrassed with me," Wilt said, smiling. He made a valiant attempt to radiate optimism and project it onto the other friend. "I won't tell anyone, and I promised Frankie I'd take care of you till we get this sorted out. Is that okay?"

Eduardo sniffled a bit, but gave a tiny nod in response.

"In fact, you won't even have to sleep in here at night," Wilt added brightly. "Frankie's fixed it so that we can sleep in the sitting room all week. That'll be fun, won't it? We can stay up all night, play video games, watch the telly-"

" 'We?' " Eduardo broke in, blinking questioningly. " 'We' as in you too? You are going to sleep there with me?"

"Of course " Wilt laughed. "I mean, if that's okay. You don't have to go through this alone. I want to be there for you, if you'll have me."

Eduardo just looked at Wilt for a moment, considering his offer. And what was it he was offering, exactly? Eduardo considered his options. He could either attempt to wrestle with this strange, new development on his own, or invest trust in a friend to help him through this particularly personal journey. Either way left openings for humiliation and social scars aplenty. Then again, when had Wilt ever caused him either? Wilt was nothing if not helpful, and right now, Eduardo could use all the help he could get.

Slowly, he nodded and lifted a hoof to accept the lollipop Wilt was still holding out to him. "Si, okay."

Wilt grinned. "Great. Look, I'm going to go take the washing down, then I'd like to go out and shoot a few hoops. You just take it nice and easy today. After dinner, we can take your pillow and blanket and your favourite stuffed animals down to the sitting room and set up the couch for you. Unless you want me to stay with you for a while?"

Eduardo considered only briefly. "No . . . Is all right. You can go."

"Righty-o. I'll come back a bit later to check on you, okay?" He reached over to give Eduardo a friendly ruffle between the horns before turning to leave, unknowing as to how fast the simple touch had left his friend's heart beating.

Eduardo did not leave the room all day, except to use the toilet. As it had happened at breakfast, the throbbing, needly heat attacked him in rolling waves throughout the day, and he spent a great deal of time pacing madly round the room or tossing and turning in the relative sanctuary of his bed. Several times, he caught himself reenacting his earlier stunt with the pillar on a stretch of wall, or one of the bedposts. As the spell faded, shame sank in and again, he backed away. He didn't understand what was happening to him, and he didn't really want to. He just wanted it to go away quickly and let him be.

Attempts at napping were fruitless and he felt as if the flow of time had slowed and thickened, like a brew that had begun to congeal. Minutes passed as painfully as hours and it seemed an eternity before Wilt returned.

After knocking and ensuring it was okay to come in, Wilt strode jauntily into the room to find Eduardo sitting, hugging his knees in the corner.

" 'Lo, Ed," Wilt said cheerfully, taking a seat on the floor. There was a towel draped over his neck and shoulders and he'd come in holding the basketball between his waist and upper arm while his hand toted a six-pack of root beer and a plastic bag. He disengaged a can from the pack and tossed it to Eduardo before pulling one out for himself.

Eduardo popped the can open wordlessly and sipped. The cool, sugary pop was a breath of fresh air in his current feverish state.

"How're things going, then?" Wilt asked conversationally, pressing his own, cold can to the side of his face, which was damp with sweat. "You doing okay?"

"I guess," Eduardo answered, shifting uneasily. He could already feel another bout coming on.

"As well as can be expected?" Wilt asked kindly. But before Eduardo could answer, he was shuddering again, moaning and squirming where he sat. Hooves dug into the floorboards and horns left dents in the wall as he fought for control.

Wilt lifted his hand, intent on comforting his friend, but stopped himself, sensing it would be for the best if he kept his distance. He lowered his hand and offered what assistance he could, staying where he was. "Easy, Ed, easy. Just take deep breaths. Try counting backwards from twenty. You're okay . . . You're going to be all right."

One painfully distended moment later, relative normalcy settled back in, and Eduardo was slumped against the wall, exhausted.

The tall friend simply observed him for a moment, looking on as he panted, his face flushed. Wilt's mouth twisted into a curved line of sympathy. "That bad, huh?"

Eduardo just creaked an eye open, still catching his breath. He watched his friend's hand find the bag, long, skilled fingers working the plastic zipper open.

"I brought grapes," Wilt offered hopefully, extracting a smallish bunch from the bag and jiggling it for the other friend to see.

Finally finding his voice, Eduardo asked weakly, "What about you?"

"Oh, there's more in the bag, plenty for both of us."

"No, I mean . . ." Eduardo stammered, "You never- I mean . . . This never happen to you?"

Wilt lowered his gaze. "Sorry, no."

"Well, why me!" Eduardo wailed pitifully. "Is no fair! Why is this happening to me!"

Wilt was silent for a moment, then he said quietly, "Because things happen. That's just the way it is. Sometimes they're good, and sometimes they're bad. And when something bad happens, well, we just deal with it and move on." He shrugged and Eduardo's heart thumped heavily in his chest as the stump that remained of Wilt's left arm rose and fell with the movement. The mangled eyestalk bobbed a bit as Wilt tipped his head at an encouraging angle and offered his friend a small, bittersweet smile. "I'm sorry, but we don't really have much of a choice. Now, open wide."

Eduardo took a moment to let this sink in before obliging the request, whereupon Wilt began merrily flicking grapes into his mouth.