.
Fandom: Lazytown Pairing(s): father-daughterly Robbie/Stephanie Words: 2,367 Warning(s): This is a dark futuristic outlook
Sportacus does his daily exercises in his hovering airship, including but not limited to sit-
ups, push-ups, jumping jacks and basketball practice. He grabs a green apple, letting it roll down his outstretched arm, and hops onto his balcony with his telescope. His first aim is toward the soccer field, and he tsks for no one being out. It is eight am and school is not in session. He then turns his attention toward Ziggy's house. The blonde fourteen-
year-old is wearing a blue-and-red short-sleeved tracksuit, sitting at his breakfast table and eating a well-balanced breakfast of toast, bacon and eggs.
Sportacus switches the telescope to Trixie's house. The fifteen-year-old brunette is still asleep and there seems to be an extra breathing lump wrapped in the sheets beside her. Pixel's house. The dark-skinned fifteen-year-old is out of bed, but it looks like he's never gone to sleep. He has dark rings under his eyes and he has a controller in his hands, moving rapidly to the flashing screen in front of his eyes. Sportacus sighs. He turns attention toward the mayor's residence. Bessie died of cancer three years ago and ever since, Milford has been a lot more clueless than ever.
The mayor of the town is sitting on the couch, staring at the blank television screen with a half-eaten pickle in his hand. Sixteen-year-old Stephanie walks past him, heading out. Three years ago, she dyed her naturally pink hair black, but one can sometimes see the pink roots trying to shine through. She wears mostly black with a little pink rebellion in the cracks, as well as black lipstick, eyeshadow and mascara. Sportacus takes one quick look at the cow billboard, sighing in defeat that Robbie hasn't been seen.
The town hero then jumps down from his home in the sky, hoping to catch up with his goddaughter. He manages, of course, to come in time with her walking, but she doesn't slow down and she doesn't face him. She pulls her black hoodie up and shields her face from him, ignoring the cold chill of the December morning. Sportacus attempts to gain her attention, but she blatantly ignores him as she enters a sweets shop. Frowning at the unsuccessful trip, Sportacus bounds around the corner, crashing into someone and getting drenched in hot coffee.
"Watch where you're going." A sharp hiss exits the man clutching the remnants of his drink.
"Sorry, Robbie." Sportacus glances up apologetic.
Robbie scowls at the mess and his clenched fist rams through the cup. Sportacus blinks at the imminent rage behind Robbie's tiresome eyes. He then notices the town's outcast wearing only a thinly layered outfit: black pants, matching ankle boots and a purple shirt. He hasn't worn costumes in years and he is hardly ever seen out of his bunker. He hasn't tried to get rid of Sportacus in three years. Finally, the man releases the cup and lets it clatter on the sidewalk. Sportacus is hesitant to touch the coffee due to its high sugar content. Robbie seemingly understands.
"C'mon." He extends a hand. "You can clean up at my place."
Sportacus takes Robbie's hand, smiling slightly at the surge of kindness. It also drops to the pit of his stomach though, at how quiet Robbie's voice is. The jeer had been small too. Sportacus is the Peter Pan of Lazytown. Sure, unlike Peter, he ages. But he never grows up. He believes in innocence of everyone. He has lost touch of most of the residents of the diminutive town, but he still believes in each of them. They are over halfway to Robbie's dugout when the elf realizes the two men are still holding hands. A harsh wind rolls by as Robbie lifts the lid threatening to seal.
He lets go and climbs into the chute, gesturing for Sportacus to jump down first. He does so, landing in the inevitable orange chair. Sportacus then hops off when he hears the echoing of Robbie sliding down. He lands expertly, walking directly off, in search of the bathroom. When he realizes Sportacus is gawking at the machine parts gathering dust in the corner, he retreats to grab the shorter man's hand and lead him down the hall.
"What do you do down here?" Sportacus asks, sitting on a small chair in the immaculate and spacious room.
The ex-town villain runs some water in a clear plastic bowl and sets it on the floor. He soaks two washcloths, handing one to Sportacus. With the other, he helps clean the elf's shoes and pants legs. He freezes slightly at the question, but then continues as if nothing had stopped.
"Used to spy on the town." He answers again in the quiet voice. "Till about a year ago. Kids have lives of their own. Dangerous ones. I don't care anymore."
"Don't care about what?" Sportacus asks tentatively.
He is washing the coffee off his arms and chest area, careful of the crystal. Robbie's eyes turn toward Sporty's. They are hollow but speak volumes. His nails dig into one of the elf's legs, though the hand with the washcloth is firm. Hastily, he drops his grip and his gaze. His hand flushes into the water and he starts to cry. His shoulders quake and he has trouble breathing. When a stunned Sportacus comes to grips of what is happening, Robbie pulls away. He drops the cloth and immediately leaves the bathroom.
Outside in the soccer field, Ziggy is running track. It is later in the day, now a little after ten. He doesn't eat a lot of sweets anymore but, like Sportacus, he still sees the best in people. He is very healthy, though not exceedingly so. He practices soccer when he can, although none of his friends want to play. Trixie and Stingy are jerks, and Stephanie is mysterious. Pixel just stays inside all the time and Robbie hasn't been seen for months. Sportacus is the only one who will play any games with him.
He hadn't realized how cold it would be outside when he left, so the only protection he has against the wind is a flimsy jacket. He still continues to play soccer, ignoring the teeth chattering now rumbling in his skull. He glances to his stopwatch, determined to practice an additional fifteen minutes before calling a break. Unfortunately, he starts to freeze a mere six minutes later. The ball bounces off the billboard as Ziggy struggles to crawl beneath in for warmth.
Trixie has short hair that hangs down in a swooping motion, just past her shoulder blades. She is wearing dark shades to hide her drinking problems, a leather studded jacket, leather jeans and combat boots. She is smoking a cigarette and skateboarding toward Robbie's bunker. There are a lot of abandoned pieces of machinery behind the pipes where she can perform new tricks. This is the closest she gets to exercise.
On her way to the discarded area, she notices Ziggy curled up and shaking. She slows, mentally arguing what she'd rather do: disturb a cranky man with the well-being of a teenager, or practice her ollies and gliding on a new unbalanced course. She opts for the latter and picks up more speed. She feels disgusted by last night, and the effects caused by drinking hefty amounts in a single bound. While reenacting the events in her mind, she fails to watch what she is doing. She doesn't notice a loose mountain of shambles until it is too late. There is a squelching sound as her ankle is dislocated, followed by an interrupted scream as she is launched off her board and onto the pavement without a helmet. The door is flung open.
Robbie climbs out, careful not to step on the surrounding ice as it starts to sleet around them. He takes a glance around and becomes horrified at the sight of the teen girl lying on the ground. He quickly takes her pulse, relieved to find even the slightest bobbing. As he prepared to take her down to the warmth of his lair, he distinctively hears a stunted anthology of prattling wheezing. With Trixie under one arm, he deftly creeps around his billboard to find a half-frozen young teen boy. He bites his bottom lip and takes both teens in his arms, down the tube to his lair.
The hatch snaps shut via the cold winds and Robbie starts another fire. He chucks some pieces of broken furniture for fuel, setting Ziggy and Trixie down together. He calls for Sportacus, who thankfully is still in the bathroom. Walking down the hall, he is hesitant that something is wrong. When he sees the children, he is terrified.
"Why didn't my crystal go off?"
"Maybe it's frozen." Robbie answers quickly. "Look, forget about it. I need you to look after them. They need to stay by the fire. Can you dress a wound?"
"I think so."
Robbie stares at him with a frown. He turns to his old costume hatch. Instead of turning on all the gears and whatnot, he simply breaks the glass with his elbow and snatches his 'Sportacus' outfit. He tosses it to the real elf.
"Put that on." He orders, his voice not any louder but sturdier. "I'll tailor it when I get back, but you need to get out of those wet clothes. When she wakes up, dress her wound. First aid is in the first cabinet beside the stove. I need to go check on someone."
The electricity goes out around town, the black screen a relief to Pixel's overused eyes. He struggles to blink away the visions, suddenly realizing how cold it is. His bedroom window is partially ajar, but when he goes over to shut it, his frozen sleeping legs fall from beneath him. His precious headset is knocked off and his stiff arms, still outstretched from holding the controller, make a deadlock with the hardwood floor - a sickening crunch is heard as his fists make contact. Pixel cringes more at the sound than at the feeling, since he can barely feel a thing.
Downstairs, Stingy has picked the lock. Pixel owes him some money from two days ago and he hasn't seen the dark-skinned teen around town, so he is positive to find him here. It is a dead end search until he reaches the bedroom. Stingy is confused at first, but quickly discovers what has happened. He can hear Pixel's hoarse whispering, pleas for help. Stingy initially ignores him, instead searching the room for evidence of cash. He finally spots Pixel's wallet on the dresser, removing all the cash: forty dollars and sixty cents. He hears the pleas again, but the younger boy is determined to have his money paid in full.
Stingy attacks Pixel's work desk, his hanging jackets and his pillowcase. Finally, he finds a ten dollar bill sticking out of used tissue box. He rummages in his own pocket, dispensing forty cents on Pixel's gaming system, and then fishes out a flashlight. Stingy untangles Pixel's frozen feet from the video console cord and turns him on his back to make it easier for Stingy to drag him out.
Robbie is now in a winter's coat, wary of the cracking ice beneath his feet. The sleet is attempting to alter into a snowstorm and the outcast simply pulls his hood closer to his face. He bypasses the children's houses and thinks twice about heading into the city part of town. Instead, he turns to face City Hall. He knows the mayor will be of no help, but it isn't the clueless couch potato he needs to see.
Robbie investigates each room of the house, coming up with nothing. He finally remembers an extra room and heads to the laundry chute beside the pantry. He finds the right switch and the chute's wall opens to some extent, revealing a hidden trapdoor. He searches his pockets for a lighter and climbs into the dank hole. After walking only maybe twenty feet and turning a corner, he spies the person he had been searching for. The teen girl looks up with scared eyes hiding behind devious ones.
He kneels down to have a better look at her face. She has a throbbing black eye and there are some bruises beginning to fade away. Her make-up is smeared and her clothes are trashed. Robbie shakes off his coat and gingerly puts it over her shoulders. He then gently takes her hand, pulling her to a standing position. While her knees wobble, she can stand. Robbie breathes a short line of relief at this. The light dims, but he flicks it back on, leading her out of the hole.
"Is he still there?" Her voice is no louder than Robbie's original gasps, and nowhere near as strong.
Robbie nods. "I've got you, Stephanie."
He holds her tight, soothingly walking her behind the couch and toward the living room. Just as they reach the front door, Milford is unexpectedly standing and gawking at the duo. The ex-villain lightly pushes the girl out the door as he turns to deal with the mayor.
"She's mine!"
"She's not safe here." Robbie answers the unasked question.
"You can't have her!"
Milford's eyes turn angry as he starts to lash out toward the ex-criminal. Robbie ducks out of Milford's grasp, kicking his shin and knocking him to the ground. The man who is often now a vegetable becomes positively livid if anyone tries to walk out the door with his niece - though no one is convinces that is who he sees anymore. Robbie grabs a bed sheet from the couch, struggling to tightly wrap the mayor within it. While the other man continues to flail, Robbie applies pressure to his throat. Once the mayor is unconscious but still breathing, Robbie ties him tighter and sets him upright, facing the strong fireplace.
Robbie then runs out into what is absolutely the beginning of a blizzard. He calls out for Stephanie, but hears no response. For the most part, he knows how to get back to his shelter. He continues to call out, though his voice still is not strong enough to be heard over the raging winds. Instead, he crashes into someone, toppling over.
"Stephanie?"
"No." A voice coughs. "Robbie Rotten?"
"Stingy." He recognizes the voice. "What are you doing out here?"
"Pixel's frozen."
Robbie feels around for the fallen teen and brings him up in a fireman's hold. He strongly grasps Stingy's shoulder, to help guide through the blinding snow. Robbie can feel the slick ice, and Stingy barely audibly points out the glimmering handle of Robbie's hatch. He starts running toward it, Robbie carefully in tow. He then sets Pixel on the ground while he and Stingy attempt to shove the nearly completely frozen pipe system open. Robbie hears a pained cry from behind the boxes where he had set Pixel. Relief rushes over when he spies a bit of pink tint. A surge of responsibility gushes over Robbie's muscles and he lifts with all his might. The hinges are tight and he gutturally calls down to Sportacus.
"Catch!"
The low throaty sound echoes down the pipeline and Sportacus is at the ready when Pixel unconsciously slides down. Robbie gestures for Stephanie and she helps hold the door open for Stingy. Sportacus had just set Pixel gently against a table when Stingy falls through. Sportacus is instantly glad that he is not unconscious like Pixel and Ziggy, or how Trixie was. The next to slide down is Stephanie. She collapses in the chair and Sportacus has little time to move her before Robbie crashes in, the hatch slamming shut. The two men move everyone closer to the fire as it begins to hail outside.
Hours pass. Trixie and Stephanie have hardly said a word to one another but they are currently sharing a sleeping bag for warmth, as are Ziggy and Pixel. Ziggy is still partially frozen and Pixel had needed several wounds to be dressed. Stingy is asleep in his own sleeping bag, Robbie not trusting him even in the wintry depths of his lair. Sportacus and Robbie are now cuddled together in the last available sleeping bag. Sportacus would almost call it romantic, what Robbie had done today, despite all the juvenile stunts he had pulled not five years ago. Robbie has grown up, but Sportacus maybe never will. Which might be why Stephanie had come to Robbie for help. Robbie has more or less taken over Sportacus's role in Stephanie's life as her godfather.
"We can both look out for her, Sportacus." Robbie's voice mumbles, heavy with sleep.
"Who?" The man jolts, thinking everyone had been slumbering.
"Stephanie." He gestures to the mentioned sleeping bag. "She can have two godparents, two guardians looking out for her. She still needs you."
"Not like she needs you." Sportacus replies sadly.
"She needs me when she's in trouble." Robbie nods. "She needs you to keep her out of further trouble."
He pats the hero's hand, causing both men to smile sadly. The clock in the room chimes softly and Robbie sighs, snuggling farther into the sleeping bag.
"It's Christmas with less merry, Sportacus. That's all."
Sportacus joins Robbie in his sleep. "Merry Christmas, Robbie."
[][][][][] Today is day 28 out of 45. Christmas is almost among us and there is no telling how cheery or not it might be until it arrives. "Somewhere deep inside of these bones, an emptiness began to grow. Oh, there's an empty place in my bones that calls out for something unknown." [][][][][][]