Author's Note: I hope everyone is enjoying this story! Please keep reading and reviewing!
Chapter Three: Fairy Tales
The Darkness loves to watch Timmy Turner sleep.
It loves the way his nose crinkles. It loves the way his eyelids flutter. It loves the nonsensical noises that slip from his mouth. Strange, though. The Darkness had expected Timmy Turner to be a snorer. And yet he is quiet.
The Darkness has no eyes in the human sense. It is capable of watching the Chosen One from many angles, all at the same time. It has the most complete view of whatever it surveys. Front, side, back … nothing is hidden.
Timmy Turner continues to shine. His blooming brilliance brightens the heart of the Darkness, sending forth his restorative rays. The abomination is cleansed and refreshed by his mere presence.
"This little light of mine," the Darkness whispers to the child. "Look at you. It's been less than twenty-four hours and we already have a deep connection. Poles apart. Big and small. Darkness and light. We go together so perfectly." It sighs.
There is peace at the heart of the Darkness. The very thing it has hoped for but never acquired. Peace. It cannot recall a time it felt like this. The Darkness has known many things. The tingling fear that comes with introducing oneself to strangers. The sudden confusion watching people running away from it. The pain of their weapons, the pain of being cut open and having to sew up the hole, only to be bludgeoned before it can heal. The anger at being driven away and thoroughly rejected. The guilty joy as it gobbles up another planet in manic retaliation. But peace has never been a prominent feature of this behemoth's life.
Until now.
It is perched on the Blue Moon of the Vegon System, like a wart on a nose. What a charming simile! After its persecutors had vanished, it returned and called the rock its home. There is still the small matter of the inactive wand, but the Darkness is not scared. No-one would dare to attack it while someone they love is inside. The risk would be too great; if the "enemy" does not defeat them, their own remorse will. More importantly, there's not another soul to be seen, so the chances of discovery are slim.
The Darkness and Timmy Turner are alone together. The perfect oxymoron.
Was there ever a sweeter little creature? The Darkness finds it hard to believe that another being could look at Timmy Turner and not wish to lock him up in their heart and never let him out. The Darkness want to banish the evil and sadness from Timmy Turner's life. It wants to surround him with goodness and joy. No easy feat for a cold and desolate void, of course, but the Darkness is definitely not a quitter.
More than that, it is certain it will succeed because it has love on its side. It loves Timmy Turner more than anyone else could possibly fathom. "I love you." When it says those words, it heats up from the inside out. "I love you, I love you, I love you." This affection is transforming the accidental brute into something better, something kinder.
And then the atmosphere changes.
Timmy Turner's mouth is wide open, then snaps shut, then gapes open again. There's a grunt, followed by a squeak. He convulses.
The poor boy's having a nightmare. A nightmare, of all things, on the day the Darkness has pulled him from his average life into what promises to be a veritable paradise! Well, this won't do at all. It nudges his shoulder. "No, no, no," Timmy Turner seems to bark. Soon after, much to the Darkness's relief, he calms down and stops moving. For about three seconds.
He screams and sits bolt upright. "SAVE ME!"
"I'm here," the Darkness soothes him. "It's okay, the Darkness is here. You're not alone." It forms two slender arms to hug Timmy Turner and pat his head. It mops the sweat from his forehead. It shudders at the warmth and moisture; this is a foreign substance.
The boy is taking deep breaths and whipping his head from side to side. "Cosmo? Wanda? Poof?"
The Darkness shushes him. "Don't be afraid, my little light. It's just a bad dream." It is practically overflowing with tenderness.
"You're right," Timmy Turner agrees. "I'll wake up soon. Any minute now." He grins with a twitching eye.
If the Darkness could raise an eyebrow, it would. "You have woken up, dear."
"I have?" The grin droops. "You're the Darkness, aren't you?"
"I am."
Timmy Turner closes his eyes. "Help me," he urges softly. "Come back. Please. I wish you were here."
Does he think his captor cannot hear him if he whispers? He is very much mistaken. The Darkness is incredibly receptive. It notices all the things that others do not, usually the mistakes.
"Your wishing cannot help you," it sneers.
"You don't know Cosmo and Wanda. They'll be here soon, and you'll be sorry. You can't wish away true love." For a moment, the youngster's cerulean eyes blaze with bravado. It's as if he truly believes he is the Chosen One.
"You're wrong in at least one respect. I do know Cosmo and Wanda."
"You're bluffing," Timmy Turner scoffs.
"I'm not. I've studied them for years. I thought (foolish wretch!) that I might approach them someday and become one of their many companions. Cosmo in particular seemed quite … innocent, and I believed he was unlikely to have imbibed any great prejudices."
"Again in English, please?"
"I hoped he'd be too stupid to be frightened of me. Roughly two hundred years ago, I plucked up the courage to address them. It was then I learned that, in reality, ignorance can increase one's capacity for fear, not diminish it. They zapped me with their wands and cast me out, as fairies do."
The Darkness has to pause here. "Excuse me." The lightning sizzling its innards is merely a figment of its imagination, a replayed memory, but this does not stop it cringing from the wound. "Why did I begin this story? Oh, yes. I've studied them for years, and I've seen a lot of godchildren come and go."
Timmy Turner waits.
"A lot of godchildren," it repeats. "Do you think it's possible for Cosmo and Wanda to have truly loved all of them? Even the naughty ones? The ones who were a pain in the buttocks? The ones who saw them as slaves?"
Timmy Turner shrugs. "Why does that matter? Right now, they care about me. That's what's important."
"But they stayed with the others, didn't they? And they stayed only because of Da Rules. Because they had to." The Darkness hesitates. "I'm afraid it's the same with you."
"That's a lie!" is Timmy Turner's instant comeback. "They love me! They have a whole room in their castle full of pictures of the good times we've had together!"
"Ah, yes, the Hall of Timmy. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but they redecorate it for every godchild."
Timmy Turner folds his arms. "Prove it."
A white rectangle shines on the walls of the Darkness's heart. "Just watch these memories."
The rectangle fades to grey. The number 5 appears in a circle, followed by 4, then 3, then 2, just like those old projectors.
The foggy image rattles and crackles. The smiling face of Cosmo slowly comes into focus. "The Hall of Denzel!" he announces to a nerdy kid with black hair, who admires the framed pictures with awe.
"You've gotta be kidding me," Timmy Turner whines. "Crocker got a Hall of Denzel?"
"There's more."
The Darkness scrutinises Timmy Turner as another memory takes over from the first. This time, it starts playing instantly, opening on an identical room, with pictures of the same size in exactly the same places. Everything is the same, except for the child who is the subject of the pictures.
"The Hall of Walt!" Cosmo announces again.
Another memory. Same room, same pictures, different godchild.
"The Hall of Tina!"
"Oh, Cosmo!" the girl coos. "It's simply the best!"
The memories come thick and fast, slipping by as soon as a name is said.
"The Hall of Bill!"
"The Hall of Benjamin!"
"The Hall of Amelia!"
"The Hall of Erg!"
The utterances hit Timmy Turner like punches to the gut.
"The Hall of Megan!"
"The Hall of Artie!"
"The Hall of Googie!"
"The Hall of Heather!"
"Make it stop," the boy beseeches the Darkness.
Finally, Timmy Turner is confronted with the only memory he will have known before now: "The Hall of Timmy!"
The boy jumps up and throws his hat across the heart of the Darkness.
The being is rocked by a spasm at its core. "AAH!" it hollers. "What was that for?" Why are children so cruel?
"I know what you're doing!" the Chosen One shouts in return, hovering at the centre of its heart. "You're trying to turn me against Cosmo and Wanda so I'll stay here with you! Well, it's not gonna happen! Even if I can't escape, they'll still be raising an army to bust me out of here! I'll always trust them, and they're always there for me! They're not gonna let anything happen to me!" His little face is red from trying to convince himself of this.
"They're there for you now, but what about when you're older? When they decide you don't need them anymore? When they fly away and make you forget you ever had them?"
"They – I – we – shut up!"
"You don't have an answer, do you? Because you know it's true. They're going to leave you, Timmy Turner. They're going to abandon you in a big bad world and never come back."
"Stop it. Stop it." But there's no force in the command. Timmy Turner sinks back into the cone, into the bottom of the heart. "It's the nightmare all over again."
The Darkness instantly softens. "What happened? Tell me."
He hugs his knees. "I escaped," he recounts, his voice barely audible. "I got out of here. I was in Dimmsdale again, and I found Cosmo and Wanda. I said, 'Hey, I'm back!' and they just – looked at me." His eyes glisten with unshed tears. "They didn't recognise me. They said they'd never seen me before. Then – then the Eliminators came back. One of them grabbed me and put – put – put a knife at my neck, and do you know what Cosmo and Wanda did?" He laughs bitterly. "They just stood there. They didn't fight back or yell out or anything. They were just gonna stand there and watch me die!"
His lips wobble. He breaks down. He shakes uncontrollably as sob after sob wracks his body. His nails dig into his arms, as if the solution is buried under his skin. His wails are high-pitched and wounding. Maybe he is making a wish; it is hard to tell. The tears come one after another, like a raging waterfall that shows no sign of stopping. This woe is long and deep and painful. These are the tears of a child who has lost all hope.
Maybe the Darkness went too far with its doom-mongering.
A crack is beginning to show down the middle of the cavernous heart. It aches so much. The Darkness vowed to banish the sadness from Timmy Turner's life, but it has already reneged on that promise.
And the effect is, quite literally, breaking its heart.
The Darkness sweeps up Timmy Turner's hat and returns it to his head. "There's a phrase I know well," it says. "Every cloud has a silver lining."
Timmy Turner snivels. "And you're gonna try to convince me there's a silver lining here?"
"Ideally, yes." The Darkness would be lying if it said it wasn't nervous. It needs to choose its words carefully. "Fairy magic doesn't last forever. Their duty to you is fleeting, dependent on your age and the level of misery in your life." It caresses his face. "But my love will last forever. It can never fade, only grow. It doesn't rely on you having to put up with an evil babysitter to keep you sad enough for me. On the contrary, I can make you so much happier than your godparents can. I am more powerful than those measly fairies, and when I grant wishes, they will never backfire. And I can also love you more, because I feel more deeply than any other creature. I see everything they don't, and that includes all the wonderful things about you. I know you're sad because you don't have Cosmo and Wanda anymore, but you'll always have me. You are my little light, Timmy Turner. Nothing will change that."
The urchin sniffs. "You're a sweet talker."
"It's all true. Tell me what you want, and I'll make it happen." It waits for Timmy to speak again.
"Oh, great, now I have to find something. I … I think I want to go back to sleep."
"Very well." The Darkness wraps him up again.
"Oh, and Mrs Darkness? Mr Darkness? Someone?"
"You could always call me Dee for short. Pretend I'm a girl called Dee, if you like."
"Okay. Dee?" The Chosen One swallows. "Would you please stop calling me Timmy Turner?"
"That's your name, isn't it?"
"Yeah, but it's so formal. And a little threatening. Just call me Timmy. Everyone else does."
"I shall." Dee wipes a remnant of a tear away from his cheek. "Goodnight, Timmy Tur – whoops, force of habit! Goodnight, Timmy."
"Goodnight, Dee." He shuffles and sags into the cloudy material. Dee keeps watch as he sinks back into his dreaming. She may be earning his trust at last. There's a long way to go before he forgets his old life and commits himself only to her, but this is a start.
"Sleep tight, my little light. Never flicker out."