So.

Yes, this is a Care Bears fanfic. No shame. Absolutely no shame. Sure, the movies and show are both horrible and stupidly lovey-dovey, but I can't get over how much I ship Dark Heart and Christie. And, yes, I know that 99% of the Earth spells it Christy, but I really prefer Christie. It just looks better to me. I dunno why.

In any case, this is a request for The Spookster, aka my dear friend Connie, aka Flygonnie/SablConnie. Don't ask about those last two; it's a long story.

This may or may not get a continuation, depending on whether or not I ever get the muse for one. Either way, I don't own Care Bears, especially not Christie and Dark Heart. And, either way, it's about time to get this show on the road!

Operation: Human Emotion

Christie was wondering when he'd finally show up.

After the initial euphoria that came with his transformation from demon to human boy, Dark Heart had disappeared in a sudden flash of intense guilt. The last she'd seen of him, he had shot her a fleeting glance over his shoulder before sorrow twisted itself onto his face and he ran away. Reluctantly, she had returned to camp with Jon and Dawn, pulling her cap low over her eyes in an attempt to hide her obvious disappointment.

(But, hey, he couldn't exactly just saunter into the camp office, say "Hey, I'm going to this camp; I have no parents, money, or identification, and my name is literally the most suspicious thing ever, but you should totally accept me", and expect them to just let him in.)

Since that day, she'd expected him to eventually show up again, even if only to apologize in his new-found emo state. After all, he was bound to break out of it pretty quickly; who was to say that he even had the capacity for guilt like a normal human? He may be physically human, but he was still mentally at least partially demon, right? At least, that was the situation as she could wrap her head around it.

No avail. From the transformation right up until the tearful goodbye as she waved Jon and Dawn off, getting into her mother's new car, Dark Heart refused to show his face around her—not even for a quick goodbye.

...Sort of.

Truth be told, she had seen him many a time, although she got the feeling that he hadn't intended for her to. But it took a while to adapt to humanity, especially when you were used to being a nigh all-powerful demon king with magic powers that could do everything for you. Clearly, he hadn't quite mastered the art of human stealth yet (understandable; he had always been able to rely on transforming into a literal fly on the wall), because she'd caught him looking after her a few times.

First, there was the time when one of the many bullies at camp was trying to force his trash duty on her once again. As usual, when she dropped the bag and pole outside of the door to the camp counselor's office and tried to explain the problem, he had only given the usual "kids will be kids" and waved her out the door. She'd stomped her way back outside, fuming, only to find the bag full and the campground completely clean.

Later that day, as she had been waiting in line for dinner, getting cut by everyone as usual, the blonde kid whose name she'd never bothered to learn came up to her pale as a sheet and rather disheveled. He immediately instructed everybody else to get out of the way and let her get food first, then apologized profusely for her actions. She would've been left completely dumbfounded if he hadn't ended the rant with a frantic, "J-just keep that c-crazy kid aw-way from me!"

As he'd scampered away with his tail between his legs, Christie had glanced up only to see a flash of red dart away from the doorway, but not before she saw the satisfied smirk across a very familiar face.

Dark Heart was clearly just as unafraid to dirty his hands as ever.

After that, no one had dared to force their chores onto her, and, although she was a bit miffed that some of them seemed to think she had the devil on her side (funny story, that), she couldn't help but think that it was pretty cute how he'd helped her out like that. Not very characteristic of a king of darkness, but nonetheless sweet.

As if that little incident wasn't enough, he returned later, as if convinced that he was to help her as much as possible. She had been outside in the dead of night, doing laps around the cabins despite how taxing the day had been. After utterly demolishing all of her previous records (save for the ones she'd made while under the influence of Dark Heart's magic), she'd unwisely continued to push herself.

Christie ran and ran and ran, and she didn't stop until her legs gave out from under her and she collapsed in exhaustion.

As she lay face-down, her entire body heaving with every breath, she could feel all of the energy sap away from her, dropping her down from adrenaline-filled to utterly drained in a fraction of a second. Sinking into the ground, she groaned, feeling her entire body go slack and stop listening to her brain. She was so... sleepy...

"Christie?"

Had she been even a smidgen more aware, she might have jumped at the sudden concerned call, giving herself away. Instead, she remained completely still, despite her curiosity being piqued. Footsteps hurried over and someone knelt by her side—then, clearly assuming she was asleep, sighed lugubriously. The zzzz of a zipper and the fwoosh of fabric was her only warning before a still-warm jacket was draped over her shoulders, shielding her from the cool night wind.

"You shouldn't work yourself so hard," came the whisper clearly meant to avoid waking her. She recognized the voice immediately and relaxed even further as a feeling of safety washed over her. As she was pulled into another's arms, her eyelids flickered once, revealing a blurry image of wide blue eyes before she fell into slumber, content with the knowledge that she was in good hands.

She woke up in her cabin the next day still wrapped in a red track jacket, and Dawn gave her a startled look as she marched resolutely to breakfast, a huge grin on her face.

There was room for only one more impromptu meeting before the end of camp. The campers had all been taking part in one of the last events of the year—the famous kayak races. As Christie's kayak was lowered into the river, the blonde bully, clearly thinking that, whatever Dark Heart's threat had been, it was null and void now, lurched forward and gave it a shove.

It had probably been meant only to scare her—make the boat shake and toss for a good laugh at her fear. No, he almost definitely hadn't meant for the kayak to spin out of control and capsize, forcing Christie into the river.

She probably would've been fine if it wasn't for her life jacket. The straps, which she had been in the process of fastening when the kayak flipped, very quickly entangled her hands, and, as if that wasn't bad enough, caught on the edge of the kayak, pinning her in place. If there was one physical aspect of camp that Christie prided herself in, it was her swimming, but the shock of the sudden submergence had caused her to gasp in water, and her panicked struggles were only serving to further trap her.

As she choked on water, blind fear and animalistic instinct rushing through her veins because she couldn't breathe, hands suddenly reached around her, undoing the clasps and pulling her free of the fatal life jacket. She continued to struggle, her body trying to swim to the surface and only managing to hinder her savior, but, luckily, she was still successfully pulled up to the surface.

As soon as she was pulled onto shore, hacking and wheezing painfully, she heard Jon and Dawn cry her name and rush towards their friend of sorts. One of them held her hair out of her face as she spat up water and greedily sucked in air; the other patted her back.

Distantly, she heard a vaguely familiar voice shouting in pure rage and the bully whimpering in response, but she couldn't make out any of the words. The next thing she knew, the camp counselor came running and whisked her away to the nurse's office, where she spent at least twenty minutes to a half hour trying to convince the nurse that, having just almost drowned, she needed to talk to a friend more than she needed to lay on a bed staring blankly at the whitewashed ceiling.

In the end, the nurse relented, letting in Jon and Dawn, who began to talk rapid-fire as soon as they saw her alive and well. "He just jumped out of nowhere and dove in after you!" Dawn explained animatedly, making near-violent gestures with her pale hands. "Then he chewed Gus out—" 'Oh, yeah. Gus. That was his name.' "—and ran off as soon as the counselor showed up!"

Christie never bothered asking who "he" was. She knew the answer automatically.

The goodbye at the end of camp was a much sadder event than usual. Jon and Dawn had been meeting at this camp since they were tiny kids, but, until now, the only thing they had in common was a staggering lack of athletic ability. After the Dark Heart incident, however, they had begun to hang out whenever possible and had discovered the true potential for their friendship. And, although Christie was, for the most part, glad about her new frienships, she had to admit that the goodbye had been much easier when she didn't care about anyone.

After some exchanging of addresses, phone numbers, and promises to write often, Christie swung herself into her mom's fancy new car and slid the door shut. As expected, it wasn't her mom who had come to pick her up—it was the driver, Jared. "How was camp this year, Christie?" he asked, honestly curious, and she smiled to herself.

"Eventful."

Just as he started the engine, a sudden knock on the window startled them both. Turning, Christie was half-shocked, half-completely-unsurprised to see a sheepish face framed in tangled red hair peering in at her.

Without waiting for Jared's permission as she usually would, she flung open the door. "Dar—!" she started to yell, but quickly cut herself off, much to Jared's obvious suspicion. But it wasn't as if she could actually call him "Dark Heart", now, could she? " 'Sup, dude," she instead greeted, although she wanted nothing more than to hug him as a thank-you for, you know, saving her sorry hide once or twice.

He gave her an odd look for a moment, as if not understanding that Dark Heart wasn't exactly the most common name. Then comprehension dawned across his face, followed quickly by a whirlwind of guilt and apprehension. "Er, so, Christie, I, uh, wondered, if, uh..."

She quirked an eyebrow as he went almost as red as his hair. Huh. Who would have known that the lord of darkness was so easily flustered just by getting a little tongue-tied? "Uh, Christie?" Jared murmured awkwardly, getting both teens' attention. "We have to leave, like, right now if we wanna get home before the traffic jams."

Obvious sorrow practically drenched Dark Heart's face as the blush fled as quickly as it had come. He opened his mouth to say something, looking rather crestfallen, but she hastily interrupted in a whisper, "You know how to use a phone, right?"

He blinked rapidly, his mouth still open from whatever he'd been about to say. "Uh, yeah. I think so. Why do you ask?"

A huge grin spread across her face at the confirmation. "Good." Reaching into her pack, she pulled out a spiral notebook and a pen before flipping to the first blank page and hastily scribbling her phone number. After a moment's hesitation, she added her home address under it, assuring that it was legible. "Here. It's my number and stuff." Tearing the page out, she folded it in two and deposited it into his waiting arms.

With one last smile, a "Bye," and then a whispered "Call me," Christie remorsefully closed the door and fastened her seat-belt.

Jared's quick driving managed to get them back to Christie's place pretty quickly; as expected, she had the three-story house to herself. Mom and Dad were probably off on a business trip. She smiled, however, to find a tray of brownies and a card waiting for her on the kitchen counter.

After reading the card and powering through half the brownies, she collapsed onto the couch, stretched, and flipped out her sketchbook and pencil tin. Holding a pencil easily in her fingers, she started to sketch, quickly ending up with a page full of different perspectives of a wild dog she had seen while at camp. She smiled when remembering how adorable it had been and flipped to the next page, beginning on another random sketch.

There was a knock at the door.

She couldn't keep the smile off her face, having suspected that Dark Heart didn't know all he thought about phones. Still, even though she was pretty sure who it was, she checked through the peep hole before unlocking the door and throwing it back.

Sure enough, the soulless king of all demons was awkwardly shifting his weight on her doorstep, looking like he'd rather be anywhere but there. As soon as he saw her, a myriad of emotions flashed across his face so quickly that she didn't have time to distinguish any of them before finally coming to a rest on a near-timid happiness. "Hey, Christie," he muttered, looking down at his feet and shoving his hands into his pockets.

Christie frowned as something occurred to her, then quickly wiped it off of her face when Dark Heart noticeably shrunk back like a kicked puppy. "Um, no offense," she began, stepping back and leaning aside to let him in, "but you're acting... strange."

He didn't take the cue to step into the living room. Instead, another battle of expression took place on his face as he fluctuated rapidly between embarrassment and anger before finally coming to a stop on the latter. "I know!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms into the air. "It's so annoying!" Just as quickly, he became contrite and slumped down with a near mewl. "Sorry about that."

Christie choked back a laugh. "Err, it's... fine." Straightening, she gestured him in with one hand. "What, is it just everything that's happened recently?" she offered sympathetically. " 'Cause I could totally understand that."

Still not taking the hint and going into her house, he frowned. "N-no, that's not it," he muttered. "It's just... all these weird feelings I keep getting ever since I changed..." Irritation flashed across his face again. "I hate it! I keep getting all sad when I see people hurt, and then I get mad at their tormentors—" (Yes, he really did say "tormentors". It was times like these that Christie remembered that he was technically a genius, he just didn't know how to apply his smarts.) "—and I don't understand it!"

With one last groan, he literally threw his hands in the air in his annoyance. "I don't see how you humans can stand it!"

It took a moment for Christie to piece it together. Then, slowly and hesitantly, she peered closer at him, examining him like an archaeologist examines something found at an excavation. "So, you're saying that you're feeling human emotion for the first time."

Bewilderment. Understanding. Agreement. Shame. Exasperation. "That's what I just said."

A smile quirked across her lips as she understood. Beckoning him inside one last time, this time with an added "Come in," to make sure he got the point, Christie began to plot in her head. As the red figure ambled into her house, glancing around curiously at the first human home he'd gotten a good look at, she closed the door behind them but didn't bother locking it. "I think I understand what the problem is."

He gave her an odd look as she gathered her sketchbook and her travel tin of pencils and erasers. "Problem?" he repeated for clarification. Upon her nod, his brow furrowed. "What 'problem'? I don't have a problem." At this, a snarl suddenly formed across his face. "Other than humanity. Not all it's cracked up to be, I'm telling ya."

She had the grace to laugh at his probably unintentional joke. "See, what just happened right there? Your rapid mood swings?" Reaching into her unpacked bag, she pulled out her homemade duct-tape wallet (it was red, ironically) and stuffed it into the pocket of her jeans. "That's not normal for humans. You're probably just not used to having so many possible emotions—" She checked the time; it was only 4 in the afternoon. "—so you can't really control them."

Heading for the door once more, she turned to him with a knowing smile. "It's like the puberty of all puberties," she explained. "And I can help."

Dark Heart's eyebrows raised as he followed her reluctantly out the door and back onto the porch. "How?" he asked curiously.

Christie smirked. "Well, first of all, we're getting ice cream. And then we're getting you a hobby or something." A frown flickered across her face. "Actually, first of all, you need a human-sounding name to use in public. Any suggestions?"

He raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think I know anything about human onomastics?"

That garnered him a snort. "Jeez. Who are you, my English teacher?" When he only gave her a confused look, she shook her head slowly. "Never mind. Just... onomastics. Is that even a real word?—Don't answer that: I don't actually care. It's a rhetorical question."

He was only getting more lost by the moment. "A what question?"

"Forget about that," Christie said quickly. "But you do need a name..." She stared at him thoughtfully for a minute, then shrugged. "I guess we can both sleep on that one. I mean, it's a pretty important decision, right?" She quickly continued, not giving him a chance to mistake another rhetorical question for a legit query. "So, for now, we'll just call you 'Jon'. I'm sure he won't mind if we borrow his name. You know what they say about desperate times and desperate measures."

He tested it out quietly. Jon. It would do for now, he supposed. "But what does ice cream and a hobby have to do with anything?" he demanded, following after her since she had already started walking.

"Well, any stable teenager needs a hobby, and any sane teenager needs ice cream every now and again," Christie explained, although he had to admit that her logic seemed rather flawed when it came to her second point. "So it's time for us to get you nice and teenager-y, my dear fr—"

Suddenly, she jumped up in the air, eyes widening and jaw slackening. Dark Heart stopped as well, startled by her sudden outburst.

"That's it!" she cried before turning to the redhead staring at her like she was crazy. "Russell!"

He flinched at her superfluous volume, edging away from her in case she only got louder—which, judging by her evident enthusiasm, seemed rather likely. "Russell?" he repeated delicately, trying his best not to upset her or anything.

"Yeah—Russell!" she repeated. "It's one of my favorite names. I think it really suits you!" Seeing the look he was giving her, she rolled her eyes. "Oh, c'mon. If you decide you don't like it later, we can get you a new one."

"No!" he hastily interupted. This time, he was the one who was too loud, eliciting a startled jump from her. "No," he repeated, much more calmly. "I like Russell. It should be good for public."

"Aw yeah!" she cried, throwing her fist into the air. Now sufficiently pumped up for Operation: Turn Dark Heart as Human-y as Possible, she turned back in the general direction of the nearest ice cream parlor. "Let's go get some soft-serve to celebrate!" she declared, heading off down the street.

"Russell" hastened to follow her, falling into step beside her. His hand twitched and he gave it a funny look.

How silly.

All of his instincts were telling him to hold her hand, but that was ridiculous.

"Hey, Dark Heart?"

"Yeah?"

"I never asked—what did you do to that blonde kid to get him to apologize?"

He coughed awkwardly.

"Well... I, ah... I may or may not have hung him out of a tree by the ankle until he promised to apologize and never do it again."

Her laughter faded into the distance as they strolled off down the block together, side by side.