A/N: I started this on a whim yesterday. I enjoyed writing it, though I think I'll abstain from doing terribly long chapters.
Chapter Two: Tempo
Timmy started walking, assuming once he did so, he'd find someone or something to guide him. Already, he'd wandered past the cemetery's limits and into the main town. Everything looked the same as it did in Dimmsdale, except all the buildings were vacant. Occasionally, he thought he'd see something out of the corner of his eye, but it was gone before he took a closer look. His footsteps made no sound and, in one panicked instant, Timmy thought he couldn't hear himself breathing.
Pressing his hand against his chest, he worked on breathing as loudly as possible. This place was starting to freak him out. Without a sun and no other lighting he could see, grey overlaid everything. It was almost like when he'd wished everyone was exactly the same, except minus the blobs he'd come to expect. This felt like purgatory minus the other souls. Timmy shuddered, exhaling sharply and still not hearing it.
"I'm not dead, am I?" he asked.
His words fell flat, as though, once uttered, they lost all power. Disturbed, he rubbed his arms. The movement he saw from before had reappeared and a figure crept closer to him from between the buildings. Timmy darted forward.
"Hey!" he called. "Who's there?"
Picking up speed, aware he was the slowest runner in his class, he tripped and tackled the figure. Up close, he saw it was a child with a purple hoodie and black pants. Pulling back, he sat up and helped the person to his or her feet. For insurance, he'd grabbed their wrists to keep them from running away. He still had no idea who it could be, because they'd hidden their face underneath the hood.
"I'm not dead, right?" he asked. He shook the kid's wrists. "Right? I'm not dead and you're not dead! Right?"
The kid didn't answer. He went limp. Timmy's heart kicked up and he shook him harder, hard enough to make his teeth rattle. The hoodie fell back and a boy with bright purple eyes, green streaks in his curly purple hair, and a crown above his head stared at him. By Timmy's estimates, he looked a little younger than him. He could have been anyone, without the crown—his purple hoodie and black jeans were almost nondescript. Stunned, Timmy released him.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
The boy shook his head and looked at Timmy sadly. In a soft voice, he whispered, "Timmy."
"Dude, who are you?" he asked. "I know you're a fairy, but you're freaking me out. How do you know who I am?"
He was a fairy, but he was a child. Timmy had never met any children fairies before. His godparents had never mentioned the possibility to him and it had never crossed his mind to ask. Puzzled, he met this child's eyes. The boy's lower lip quivered and he flung his arms around him.
"A little close, don't you think?" he asked.
"Be brave, Timmy," he whispered. Startled, struck by the feeling that he knew the boy or that he might know him soon, he hugged him back. The instant his arms encapsulated the slight form, the boy vanished into the fog. Heart in his throat, Timmy brushed his hands across the space he'd occupied.
Unnerved, he stayed where he was. Nothing else moved, nothing he could see, and he huddled on the spot. He wished that boy would return. He wished someone would appear and talk to him. In this strange world where he could hear himself talk, but not hear himself breathe, he needed a companion. Hell, he'd settle for Crocker right now if it meant he wouldn't have to be alone. He hadn't been alone since he'd gotten Cosmo and Wanda over a year ago.
"Guys?" he called. "Anyone?"
Something woofed and Timmy jerked, glancing toward the sound. It echoed in the distance and the phantom dog followed its bark with a mournful bray. After a few seconds, it too faded. Teeth chattering, Timmy settled down on the ground between a donut shop and a pizzeria. Normally, people would have rushed past him or possibly stepped on him. No one was here…
"Cosmo! Wanda!" he cried. Anxious, he ran through every single fairy he could think of, including a couple he knew loathed him. No one answered. Despondent, he wrapped his arms around his legs and tried to come up with a plan.
It didn't help that every time he tried to think of something, the temperature seemed to drop. His teeth chattered and he felt chilled from within. When he turned his head, he thought he saw the boy, but he could also see through the boy to the bank across the street. Perturbed, he decided it wasn't worth it to think about these things. Timmy Turner was a boy of action and besides, this place was creeping him out. Surely there had to be something nearby that wouldn't be nearly as disturbing.
He walked away from the business section and the buildings near him melted away. Usually, going away from the business section meant entering the suburbs, but he found himself at school instead. Scowling, he walked away from school and toward the gates. Where the street should have been, he encountered the school again. Whatever forces compelled this place wanted him to enter…either that or he'd hit his head and his subconscious wanted to torture him. At this point, he figured anything was possible.
Resigned, he walked through the front doors. The purple haired boy had returned and while Timmy could still see through him, he was more solid than he'd been a moment ago. Raising his hand, he pointed to the hallway where Timmy had his classes. The boy's face was troubled and he lowered his gaze.
"Don't you speak beyond really weird cryptic stuff?" he asked. "What's with the pointing?"
The boy grabbed Timmy by the arm and his hand slipped through Timmy's skin. Jolted, they stared at each other and the boy nodded his head insistently toward Timmy's classroom.
"I don't want to be there when I have to be," he protested. "Why the hell would I go there now, when I'm stuck in this weird limbo?"
"Timmy," he said. "Go."
"I'm not going anywhere until I know how you know my name!" he retorted. "Who are you?"
Shaking his head, the boy released him and walked toward Timmy's classroom. Timmy followed, hurtling questions at the fairy child that he didn't answer. The classroom door was open and the room devoid of its usual demeaning posters. At first glance, the room appeared empty.
The fairy boy stood near the desk and, at Timmy's arrival, moved aside. A man with greasy black hair sat grading papers. Timmy recognized him as Crocker, except without the ear on his neck, the hunch, and better teeth. He looked up at Timmy and their eyes met. There was something cold and unpleasant about Crocker's stare and Timmy found himself searching for his godparents before remembering they weren't here.
"Hello, Turner," Crocker intoned. "Have a seat."
"I don't think so," he said. "What are you doing here?"
"Grading papers," he said. "I'm rather disappointed. I haven't found a single failing mark."
"And that's a problem why?" he asked.
"I do enjoy a certain degree of failure," he mused. "Sit, Turner."
"I'd really rather stand," he said. "And not be here. Of all the people who had to be here, why are you here?"
"A very good question," he conceded. "Perhaps the better question is why are you here?"
"I asked you," he huffed.
Still standing in the doorway, Timmy looked at the hallway. He heard nothing, no indication of the students Crocker was supposedly grading. The purple haired boy had sat down and looked at Timmy imploringly. Reluctant but unwilling to leave him alone, he settled beside him.
"I suppose you'd have to ask yourself where here is," Crocker said, as though continuing a lecture. "Where is here?"
"I don't know! Why are you asking me?" he snapped.
"You're not a very good student, are you?" he replied.
"You know I'm not," he said and muttered, sullen, "Don't rub it in."
Crocker moved away from the desk and toward the desks as he normally did when starting a lesson. With the ruler in his hand, he cracked it at a desk near them. Timmy flinched; the fairy boy didn't react. Irritated Crocker had gotten to him, he forced himself to focus on him. Attention had never been his strong suit, but he knew Crocker knew something.
"You might be wondering why me? Or better yet, why me without my fairy godparents?" he asked. He managed to say the last two words without spazzing or hitting himself. He spoke them in a normal, level tone. Timmy's eyes widened.
"I can't tell you," he said. "I wouldn't want to give anything away."
"Yeah, you would," he retorted. "Why do you look different, anyway?"
Crocker smiled and stood in front of Timmy's desk. "You weren't the only one with Cosmo and Wanda. Or the only one who remembers them."
Uncertain how much to say, terrified that Crocker knew their names, he said nothing. The boy had shuddered at the names too, his eyes darting around the room. Timmy met his gaze for a second before meeting Crocker's challenging look.
"But…you shouldn't remember them…" he whispered.
Crocker's smile failed to reach his eyes, which contemplated Timmy with a single minded coldness that bordered on homicidal. Forcing Timmy to maintain eye contact, he tilted the boy's head in his direction. Timmy's chest tightened.
"You'll find there are a lot of things here that shouldn't be," he remarked. "And some things that should be but aren't."
"What are you talking about?" he sputtered, wrenching his chin away from Crocker's grasp. He pushed his chair away from his desk.
"Come along, D.J.," Crocker said, snapping his fingers. The classroom dissolved around them and Timmy was alone again.
Wanda felt like she had the hangover to end all hangovers. The worst part was she couldn't remember drinking anything. Beside her, Cosmo grinned and then winced.
"Makes you wish we remembered what we did, huh?" he asked.
"Did we do anything?" she asked. They were in the park, in bright sunshine that hurt her eyes, and they had shifted into squirrels. Wanda didn't remember changing. Everything beyond this immediate moment drew a blank.
"I dunno. There was a big bang and then look, here we are," Cosmo said happily. "Look, nuts! I love putting nuts in my mouth!"
"Cosmo," she said, interrupting his foraging, "where's Timmy?"
"Who's Timmy?" he asked.
"Silly pink hat, bucktooth, we've had him for over a year…" she prompted.
"Never heard of him," he said.
"You're joking," she said. "Timmy. Our godson."
"What are you talking about?" he replied. "We don't have a godson."
"Yes, we do," she pressed. "I know you're an idiot, but this is a bit much, even for you."
"I don't know a Timmy," he said and, to her consternation, he sounded earnest. "Are you sure you're okay? Maybe the conk on the head is making you weird."
Confused, she stared at him. She knew they had a godson. Even if she couldn't remember the specific event that had caused the world to explode and bring them here, she remembered Timmy subconsciously. She lifted her wand to see if she could track him. The wand returned no signal and she silently told it to seek him again. Again, the wand yielded nothing. Scowling, she shook it until sparks flew.
"I can't believe this,' she huffed. "It's telling me there's no such person."
"Duh, because we don't know a Timmy," he replied, rolling his eyes. "C'mon, Jorgen's waiting for us."
Tail flicking briskly, Cosmo darted off with far more energy than she could muster. Groaning, she pursued him. Something was off, besides the fact they couldn't find Timmy, and she couldn't quite put her finger on it.
"What does Jorgen want, anyway? And why not just poof to Fairy World?" she asked.
Cosmo gave her a look that said quite clearly she was the dim one this time. Staring her down with his bright green eyes, he replied, "We haven't been able to go to Fairy World for three hundred years. Are you sure you're okay?"
"I…I don't know anymore…" Her head was aching and she wished Cosmo would stop long enough for everything to start making sense. Everything smelled and looked the same—the temperature was the moderate Californian midsummer she had grown accustomed to. Yet, hadn't it been an earlier month when she and Cosmo had left Timmy? She could have sworn it wasn't summer.
They headed into a small drainpipe, barely large enough to suit them in their current forms, and they turned into flies. It was almost familiar, in the way everything Cosmo said almost made sense, but not quite. She knew, with an ironclad sense, that Timmy was their godson and Jorgen either appeared before them or summoned them to Fairy World. She also knew her communications with Cosmo were off, though that had existed for a while now. What she couldn't tell, however, was what had precipitated this and where Timmy was now. It gnawed at her.
The drainpipe led to a storm drain that spanned a great distance beneath the city. Their travel was silent, leaving Wanda too much time to ponder what was really going on. When they finally emerged back into daylight, a girl with a cruel smile awaited them. Wanda halted, though Cosmo immediately changed back into his normal form and grinned at her.
"Hi, Rosalie!" he chirped.
Wary, Wanda changed into a cat and eyed the girl. The smile hadn't reached her eyes and she surveyed Cosmo and Wanda with barely concealed disdain.
"Where's Timmy?" Wanda ground out, locking eyes with her.
"Timmy?" the girl repeated, cocking her head as if in thought. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean. There's no Timmy here. In fact, there's no Timmy anywhere."
She accompanied this with a smirk and pounded her fist against her thigh. "He's not your godson anymore."
Cosmo was, as usual, oblivious. "Timmy was never our godson, right?"
"Right," Rosalie confirmed, shooting Wanda a triumphant look. Undeterred, Wanda glared back and kept her own council. Cosmo might not remember what was going on, but now she had confirmation. There had always been something off about Rosalie, something that had disturbed her before her father had attempted to "fix" her. Cosmo's familiarity with her, unfortunately, argued only one conclusion.
"That blow to your head must've been worse than you thought," she taunted. "I'm your goddaughter. A long time ago, I wished I could never grow old and always be a child. You'd always be with me. And now you are."
"That's not what happened!" she protested.
Rosalie snorted. "Prove it."
The power of suggestion placed a vague recollection of this and she shuddered, puffing up. Her fur expanded, making her look twice her normal size, and she backed away from Rosalie's outstretched hand. Cosmo stared at her in concern and she shook her head. For this, it looked like he'd be no help.
She bolted and Rosalie tackled her. Hissing and spitting, Wanda raised her claws threateningly. Rosalie chuckled.
"You're not going to run out on your king, are you?" she mocked.
"Jorgen's not our king," Wanda replied. "He's the ruler of Fairy World, but we haven't had a king and queen since Oberon and Titania."
"Won't he be disappointed to hear that," she purred. "He's waiting for us, you know. He'll realize you're tardy and I'm told the punishment for disobeying a summons is quite harsh."
Wanda stopped struggling. While she still wanted to run, she realized now would not be the right opportunity. She'd have to wait until Rosalie had lowered her guard. She'd also somehow have to convince Cosmo she was right and he was wrong, which would probably be relatively easy. Cosmo tended to agree with her for most things, though his completely rewritten memories worried her.
Rosalie dropped her and she hissed, shifting back into fairy form. With the girl leading the way, she brought them under a tree large enough to serve as emergency housing. It spanned higher than she could see without flying and was the length and width of a two-story house. Blinking, she considered it for a moment before the familiar wand banging brought her back to focus. Jorgen Von Strangle glowered at them, smiled at Rosalie, and resumed glowering at them.
"You're late," he snapped. With his booming voice and her headache, his words went right through her.
"We were held up," Rosalie said and batted her eyelashes.
"I have an important assignment for you three," he intoned. "The gates to the null world have been opened again."
"What do you want us to do about it?" Cosmo asked.
"Null world?" Wanda repeated.
"Where all the riffraff is, the aborted timelines, the wishes that should have been made and weren't, all that stuff," Jorgen said, waving his hand dismissively. "It is your job to ensure that no one from that world escapes into the real world. Find the gates and seal them."
"Of course!" Rosalie said, beaming at him "You can count on us."
"How many gates are there?" Wanda asked. The situation rang false to her, beyond Jorgen not being their king. He'd never ordered them to do anything unless they'd already involved themselves. He certainly didn't assign missions.
"Five," he said. His eyes narrowed. "Close them all and don't let anyone escape. Are we clear?"
"Crystal!" Rosalie chimed. "Thank you so much for the task, Your Highness."
Wanda's mouth opened and closed, a small squeak erupting. Jorgen scoffed, skewering her with a look.
"I will not remind you of the price of failure," he snapped. "Dismissed."
Smirking, Rosalie led the party back the way they had come, though she vanished near the drainpipe. As a fly again, Wanda mulled over the null world. It hadn't existed before, which strongly argued that it had come into being as a result of the events she couldn't recall. Timmy might be there, though he might also not be. If he'd been erased from existence, he could either be there or in a purgatory Jorgen controlled. That would mean Jorgen remembered him and he'd given no signs of that, though she hadn't asked.
They met Rosalie again where they'd started and Wanda cured their headaches. Cosmo, excited and bouncing on his heels as a dog, head-butted her. Wanda shifted into a dog too and hung back.
"Where are we going first?" he asked.
"I don't know," she replied. "Jorgen didn't give us a map. We'll wander around and see if we find anything."
Folding her arms across her chest, she headed across the park with Cosmo and Wanda at her heels. She held herself regally, back straight and head high, and cast nasty glances at anyone who bothered to look her way. Hanging around Timmy in Dimmsdale, Wanda had a sense for most of the people who lived there. She didn't recognize anyone here.
"Don't be a spoilsport, Wanda," she chastised. "Don't you know I love you and Cosmo more than anything else in the world? I love you more than death itself."
The words stopped her and she dug her paws into the ground. Cosmo hesitated, looking from his wife to what he perceived to be their goddaughter. Confused, he met Wanda's gaze.
"That sounds familiar…" he said.
"Of course it does!" Rosalie said, impatient. "I've told you it every day. Now come on, you guys. Life's no fun if you're sitting there doing nothing."
The sun intensified and for a second, Wanda could see through her goddaughter. Cosmo whimpered, nuzzling her, and Rosalie patted him on the head.
"Solar flare," she deduced. "Let's go."
Walking at Rosalie's side, Cosmo glanced back at Wanda. His eyes asked her for a private conversation later and it reminded her that they should have been able to have one now. They should have been able to speak mind to mind. She looked up at the sky—a red moon hung close to the sun. Null moon. She shivered.