7
Sophia peered into the baby basket worriedly as Cosmo lay there and stared blankly up at the ceiling. Wanda fluttered over the little girl, nibbling on her knuckle as she looked down at her husband in concern. The past few days with Sophia had been spent teaching her Da Rules and helping her understand exactly what fairies could and couldn't do. The bulk of that teaching had come from Wanda; Cosmo had gone off to a corner and just sat there, strangely quiet and with the oddest expression on his face. If she didn't know any better, Wanda would have said he was thinking a lot.
"Wan-dah." Sophia mumbled, still having trouble with pronouncing the pink-haired fairy's name, "I wish Cosmo was okay." Wanda sighed and stroked the little girl's hair, watching her husband glance towards them silently, then turn over to face away from them.
"I don't think a wish is gonna help him, Sweetie. Why don't you go and get some paper and crayons so we can color pictures in a bit?" she remarked and Sophia broke into a bright smile before toddling off to collect the art materials. With the toddler distracted, Wanda turned back to her husband. "Cosmo? What's wrong?" she asked, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair. So soft, like Timmy's. A brief pang of homesickness hit her then; she missed being home with their godchild. "Are you feeling sick?"
"Nothing's wrong. I'm fine. Go play. I'm bad at coloring." Cosmo muttered. He curled up tighter in a ball, grumbling something else in some strange tongue Wanda only half-recognized. There was the normal fairy language and mixed in were some terms she heard tossed around by soldiers in the military while training as a fairy godparent. Well, Cosmo had been part of the Fairy Army for a short while, a decade or so, so that was no surprise.
"Does this have anything to do with that letter you got in the package?" she pressed on.
"Forget the letter already." her husband hissed uncharacteristically, "Leave me alone!" Wanda pulled back in alarm and he sighed, hunching his shoulders up but still refusing to look at her. "Sorry. Head hurts. Go color. For me?" he amended in a soft, broken voice. She sighed as well, then fluttered off to join Sophia at her little table for drawing, careful to keep alert for the sound of Sophia's mother moving for the bedroom door. The woman had taken time off from work to stay with her daughter while she continued searching for a new, more responsible babysitter. Jeanette had returned the day after the girl was taken back to her apartment with the fairy couple and had tried to patch things up with apologies but both parents would not have any part of it. They had lost one child due to negligence before; they were not going to risk another.
Sophia was already working away at her construction paper, covering it in swirls and scribbles of color with a box of crayons nearby. She held up one sheet scrawled with pink and yellow and black, a smile dominating her face.
"Wan-dah! I drew you!" she laughed and Wanda smiled brightly, waving her wand and magically placing the drawing in a flowery frame that affixed itself to the wall. Sophia clapped her hands, then picked up another sheet of paper. "I drew Cosmo, too! See, see?" she added, holding it out to the fairy. Wanda blinked at the rendering of her husband. Near as she could tell, the drawing looked bedraggled, war-torn, as though something had used Cosmo as a chew toy and then threw him aside, forgotten.
"This is Cosmo?" she asked the little girl. Sophia nodded, pointing at parts of her drawing.
"This is the hurty on his hand. I gave him a ribbon to help it. There was a hurty on his back and I put a band-aid on it. His wing was tore up, but he didn't want tape on it." she described, then blinked as speaking of the fairy godfather reminder her of him. "Is he better now? He didn't look happy." she added.
"He'll be okay in a little while." Wanda assured her, then glanced back at the toy baby bed uncertainly, "I hope."
Curled in the little bassinet, the letter clutched in his fists close to his body, the green-haired fairy continued forcing his mind to ponder over the offer in his hands. It was like a kick to the gut, and every time he read the letter, the blow got harder to take. A military seal adorned the top of the paper, large red letters proclaiming it 'Top Secret' stamped just underneath it, and signatures from several of the most prominent and influential commanders in the Fairy Army graced the bottom of the paper.
Cosmo uttered a small soft laugh of despair. The dark voice had warned him that it would eventually come to this. The reason why the Academy had been so eager to have him even before Mama Cosma dragged him there to keep him from Wanda; the reason, the voice added coldly, why that cute little baby Wanda wanted so much was taken away so soon after she got it. It was now the greatest bargaining chip he had in his possession. All the hurt of being away from friends and family in Fairy World, all the pain of being banished and disavowed by the fairies there, would go away and be gone and the hurting would stop... if he just took the offer the letter had.
"It won't fix Timothy's life." the voice remarked from deep inside his head, "Wanda will be free to live and do as she pleases, but it won't help Timothy. It won't bring back his life. Not when it was stolen like that. He can get close, but you know it will never truly be the same." Cosmo whimpered softly at the words, then sighed, opening the letter to read it once more. The offer remained the same as the first fifteen times he read it; return to the Fairy Academy's services, and he and Wanda will no longer be banished. They would be cleared of the crime of letting Timmy die in their care. Wanda would be free to return to being a godparent, no longer bound eternally to the brunet. Timmy would be allowed the rare opportunity to live in Fairy World, away from humans that wouldn't understand him, among those that would accept his immortality and magical skills as the norm.
All of that, in exchange for Cosmo himself.
Part of him wanted to jump for the deal; his family was more important to him than his own life. After all, did the dumbest fairy in the universe really deserve all that he had? He wanted to make them happy and free, and this seemed to be the easiest, best way to do it. But then there was that part of him that refused it to the core of his soul. Why? Because something terrible would happen if he said 'yes', according to that dark little voice. Something that would make lots of people unhappy, even sad or worse... afraid. But if Timmy was there in Fairy World, then maybe things would be okay. Timmy would take care of Wanda, keep her safe, protected, even from him. Was that enough to say 'okay' to the deal?
He'd have to think about it some more.
Timmy sighed tiredly as he sat in the back of the bus, watching the city streets as the public transit system took him to the neighborhood where he hoped Francis still lived. The confrontation with Veronica had been highly unsettling, and it took a majority of the wait for the bus and part of the bus ride itself to calm himself down and file the experience away, hopefully to be forgotten but mainly to be kept notice of for future awareness. Tapping his fingers on the armrest, he waited for his stop to come, listening to the soft humming of the star pendant hanging over his heart.
Having Anti-Cosmo stay with him for so long had shown the brunet that there was more to the anti-fairy than just wanting to plunge the world into eternal bad luck and stay out of the clutches of Jorgen Von Strangle. It was still a little strange to wake up in the mornings and spot a cobalt blue fish floating in the fishbowl on his night stand, miraculously maintaining the monocle and derby hat in that form as he dozed quietly. He had offered Anti-Cosmo a room of his own for the week he was going to be staying, but the anti-fairy had chosen to stay in the fishbowl.
"You're depressed and miserable, dear Timothy." Anti-Cosmo had remarked with a grin, hovering over the glass bowl, "Why on earth would I miss even a single delectable moment of that?"
And yet in some moments, when the anti-fairy wasn't aware of being watched, the mischievously gleeful look on his face was replaced with a quiet, brooding expression. Timmy couldn't quite tell if he was concerned about something, or just sad. But what would Anti-Cosmo be sad about?
"Willowbrooks!" the bus driver called out and Timmy pulled the cord to signal that he wanted to drop off, then headed out once it stopped at the corner. He paused at the door, looked over at the other passengers, then tried to cheer them up with a bright smile. The passengers only scowled at him. One held her purse closer, glaring at him suspiciously. With a sigh and a shake of his head, Timmy hopped off the bus and began the trek to Francis' home.
"Maybe this adaptation thing has some truth to it after all. It was Cosmo and Wanda hanging around me, cheering me up all the time, that gave me the influence to make people around me feel happy." the brunet muttered, "And now I'm doing the opposite of what I wanted to do; I'm making people feel bummed."
"I know. Delightful, isn't it?" Anti-Cosmo purred in pleasure, "Such lovely misery all around us. I do hope you keep passing it on." Timmy rolled his eyes and jogged up a walkway to the front door of a small white house whose yard seemed less a lawn than it was a jungle of overgrown grass, weeds and broken parts from various toys and cars. Looking around at the mess in uncertainty, he reached out and cautiously rapped on the door. He adjusted the gloves on his hands, waiting for a response to the knock. No fingerprints, no evidence that Timmy Turner had contacted something four years after his 'death'; the precaution was becoming more and more second nature to him and Timmy hated it. But Danny had been adamant about keeping his identity secret and who better to lecture him and train him on that than someone who had to keep himself as much a mystery as possible to everyone around him, including federal agents?
The door cracked open and Timmy blinked up at the burly man that was Francis' father. He flexed massive fists held at his sides, sunken, bloodshot eyes taking in the young teen that stood at his doorstep. He was fairly clean-shaven, but dressed in sweaty work-out clothes. For a moment, neither one said a word, only stared at each other. The man snorted through one nostril and Timmy stepped back instinctively, swallowing hard.
"H-Hi..." he stammered out, "Um, is Francis home?" The man's eyes narrowed at him and Timmy scrambled for a story. "I'm new to Dimmsdale, so I'm kind of confused about a lot of things." he remarked quickly, "Everyone keeps going on and on about this Timmy Turner kid and I wanted to know more about what his deal was, so I figured I'd come and talk to Francis about it."
"You gonna hurt 'im?" the man finally growled out in a deep, hoarse voice and Timmy looked surprised. Hurt Francis? Chester and the Others hadn't been kidding; there had been people who actually wanted to do physical harm to the school bully for what had happened?
"No, sir! I just want to hear the story from his point of view." he answered quickly, waving his hands for peace, "I mean, he must be pretty miserable himself, what with getting blamed for a tragedy while young and everything. So I figured he should have a chance to say his side and get it off his chest at last." The pallid father scowled at him a little longer, then finally stepped aside to let him in. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder as he closed the door.
"In the basement. Watch yer step." he rumbled and stomped off to continue whatever he'd been doing, probably punching something... or someone. Timmy gulped as he made his way to the basement door.
"A little bad luck for the ape-man?" Anti-Cosmo asked and the brunet only flicked the pendant before opening the door.
The staircase was dark and narrow. Timmy reached out tentatively, sought the handrail and grabbed on. Stepping carefully onto the steps, he began the descent into the foreboding room. It was eerily silent and the darkness in the passageway made him want to conjure up the Light orb for illumination. Timmy lifted his hand, paused, then set it back down. No magic. Not if they were being turned negative.
A few more steps and the stairs began to creak, as though they'd been damaged by something and complained under the weight of anything else using them. There was a light nearby, sparing him from the desire to conjure his own. It didn't reach out very far from the source, so he still kept a grip on the handrail as he made his way to the bottom of the landing. And it was while Timmy stood there, seeking out where the light was coming from, that his situation, as well as his view of the world as he remembered and knew it, changed entirely.
Lit from above by a single light bulb that dangled from among cobwebs was the dome-shaped jungle gym that had stood in the school yard at Dimmsdale Elementary four years ago. The exact playground toy that had taken his life from him. Staring at the assembly of metal, the room seemed to spin slowly around him, giving Timmy a vaguely nauseated feeling. What was that thing doing in Francis' basement, and how did it get there?
As he stood there, frozen to the landing while trying to get his mind to return to the here and now, a figure moved in from the shadows beyond the light's reach, stepping into the field of illumination around the gleaming metal structure. A near spitting image of his father upstairs, Francis merely stood by the jungle gym, gazing at him silently, reddened eyes narrowing slightly at him in momentary suspicion before relaxing and turning to look upon the contraption.
"Took a while, but it's here." he finally said. Timmy couldn't even bring himself to focus enough for coherent speech, the memory of falling from that thing playing itself out in his mind with vivid clarity. Falling, pain, then cold and darkness, and then the visions of purgatory. Of losing his emotions to a beautiful field and then being carried through a desolate wasteland in the arms of the Grim Reaper. Of losing all sense of time and space. "It's only a copy. Built it myself from the blueprints of the original. Found 'em online." Francis went on, seemingly at ease despite the spinning of the room with the jungle gym its center focus, "Four years in this house, by myself, with only online classes... changes a kid, y'know?"
Still nothing from the brunet.
"They said it was an accident, but they blamed me anyway. They wanted to put me away for life, but I got spared 'cause I was just as messed up about the whole thing as everyone else." the former bully remarked calmly, "So they let me off easy; parole, house arrest, monitoring anklet, that sort of thing. Heck, all that time not punching kids and actually doing school work got me to using my brain and I learned some useful stuff. Mostly that no one was actually looking into what really happened that day." He looked over at his visitor again, but Timmy was more interested in trying to keep his lunch down, eyes still locked on the jungle gym in horror. "They never really paid attention to what I was trying to tell them, so I decided to do an experiment of my own and figure out what caused the whole thing." Francis continued, "So I went online, got some images of the jungle gym to help me track who made it, nabbed a copy of the blueprints after some fast-talking and built this duplicate from parts my dad brought for me."
It was all so very wrong. He knew it, but getting the rest of his brain and thus his body to register anything beyond the nightmare that was history was nearly impossible. He was shaking, that much he could get; he was shaking and he had never wanted Cosmo and Wanda with him so badly than he did at that moment. Falling and falling, over and over; his memories and A.J.'s simulation seemed to blur together in his mind and he wanted so much to just break into screams as he watched himself be mangled by a possessed jungle gym in that cursed imagination of his.
"I almost have it figured out, I think. It's taking a while and it was kind of crazy, but I had a hunch there was more to me nearly falling off that thing myself than just a slip on the bars. See, I never slip; my hands are pretty strong compared to the other kids' grips. But when I gave that shove, I damn near fell off the thing myself." Francis commented idly and reached out into the darkness beyond the single light, "Here. Let me show you what I've done so far."
There was a click, and the entire basement was flooded with light. Timmy gaped in shock at the arrangement of computers, worktables, gears and cranes set up all around the jungle gym. And though everything looked stationary, there was still that damned sensation of the room whirling around him, slowly at first but growing ever faster as the moments stretched by agonizingly. Screens flickered, lights blinked at him, the whirring and hissing of mechanical devices filled his ears and it was with a sick realization that Timmy found himself staring at a workstation so like the Crocker Cave that it seemed surreal.
"It's all in where you look at it." Francis whispered just loudly enough for Timmy to hear and that was it for him. His mind couldn't take the bizarre scene and broke under the vision.
Racing back up the steps, the brunet had only one thought; escape. Escape the madhouse, escape the monstrosity that had taken his life, the person responsible for the initial fall, the lair that had been the source of so many miserable conflicts with his insane teacher, just escape it all and go back to normal life.
But what was normal? What was life? Where could he go that could provide a safe haven from this madness?
And it was to escape the demons of the past that Timmy fled for the cemetery once again.
Remy was not pleased at all by the current events. Jeanette was quickly losing ground and clients as the new babysitting service opened and parents jumped at the chance to have native Dimmsdale teens babysit their kids. That community spirit thing was getting annoying and it worked against what he wanted. Dimmsdale kids banded together too easily and tried to cheer each other up rather than inflict misery on one another, a trait that they claimed to have learned from the selfless Heart of Dimmsdale. Whether that was true or not meant nothing to Remy, only the knowledge that if they weren't making each other miserable, then no one would be getting fairy godparents and he wouldn't have the opportunity to steal them for himself.
He had yet to successfully capture, keep and use a fairy for himself. Apollo had been close; another few days and he would have broken the fairy swordsman's spirit enough to lay claim to his supply of magic. But then he managed to escape, and he blamed Timothy for the breakout even though that whole night seemed like some strange dream. In fact, most, if not all, of the fairies that had been captured during the early months of the Dark Spire project had been taken to Crocker, where reports came that they had all died in experimentation. It had been a massacre, and for days afterwards, parents in the city had no idea why their children suddenly became so unstable and depressed, even suicidal, when just a while ago they had been calm and even regaining their cheerful natures.
So Jeanette's usefulness to him was quickly waning. He'd have to deal with her fairly soon and put more effort into getting his own fairy capture units spread out into the city.
There had been a call to him earlier that day; some strange explosion had been set off at the construction site of Spire Seven and the entire compound had been destroyed. It had not been discovered until the panic in the city had calmed enough to let his construction crews get out to the site, otherwise he would have known sooner. Investigation teams had picked through the rubble and came away with small samples of a strange green goo that were sent to a private lab for examination. Remy had not been happy with that and promptly fired several servants in his mansion to get back into a good mood. Fine, whatever. Let Timothy and his little allies have their jollies in blowing up the old Spires. Once the blueprints for the National Spires were perfected, he'd have those built in their place, guarded 'round the clock by the best security money could buy. He'd like to see them just try to blow those away.
With the rest of school canceled due to some bizarre stroke of bad luck which he immediately blamed Timothy for, Remy found himself with the rest of the day open for just about anything he felt like doing. First thing he did was put in a call to Crocker for an update on the control units.
"The assembly lines have little over two thousand additional units built of the original three classes. They are spreading through various sectors of the city, as the fairy with the DNA lock was reported as moving through those sections. The software for the control units is only thirty percent complete, so don't expect the actual units for another week or so." the retired teacher answered grouchily, "As for the designs of the National Spires, I haven't worked out all the weak points, but the current Dark Spires are learning from each other every time that boy successfully destroys a tower. Using the data gathered on him and his tactics, I should have an impenetrable design shortly."
"Once the designs for the National Spire are complete, I want them built in Dimmsdale immediately. I don't want that Neogene mongrel to have any opportunities at destroying those Spires." Remy growled, "Find a way to get rid of that orphan brat before he damages my beautiful Spires any more!"
"I've been studying that little contraption you sent; that one with the strange technology making up the bulk of its components. I think with a little more effort, I can use this technology to enhance our current units as well as design something to deal with him non-lethally."
"No! I want him gone! Gone, gone, gone!" Remy yelled in a fit, "I want that stupid immortal out of my city and out of my life! How dare he come here and have comprehensive knowledge of things he shouldn't know about! I want him gone, you hear me? Gone!" He clutched the phone tightly in his grip, fury building at the memories of all the destruction the brunet had caused on his expensive Dark Spires. "He's affected by nullifiers, Crocker, and you had better develop a stronger one specifically to target that bloody annoying gnat!"
"Nullifiers are designed to target fairy magic. Unless this kid is a fairy in disguise, he shouldn't be affected by them at all. However, if I can get a reading of what frequency of magic he's using, then I can input that data into the nullification software and it will cancel out his magic."
"And how are you to get a reading?" the blonde asked dryly.
"The same way I got the original reading for fairy magic. Get me a sample of his DNA. I'll decode the frequency of magic from it." With that, Crocker hung up the phone. Remy blinked at the receiver on his end, astonished and baffled. That was it? Well, hell, was that old fool expecting him to go and get a DNA sample? Oh, that was bloody hilarious. What was he expected to do, walk up to Timothy and pleasantly ask him to spit in a cup for him? DNA sample, indeed; the mongrel would sooner spit in his face than let him run off with something like that.
But on the other hand...
"Even an immortal can be identified by their genetics, am I right, Juandissimo? He had to be born in order to die, correct?" Remy mused aloud. The Latino fairy looked up in alarm from where he sat on a nearby lounge chair, brushing his hair back into its usual ponytail. "I can kill two birds with one stone if I can get a sample; Crocker can target his magic specifically and I'll have the evidence I need to finally trace that mongrel's history and use it to prove that he is a lying, thieving little wretch!" the blonde declared in a bright tone and jumped up from his chair eagerly, a brilliant light of emotion shining in his eyes. "That's it then! I'll hire a few of the local hooligans to pester that little Spire-wrecker as much as he pesters me and get the sample we need! A few snips of hair, a small spattering of blood; surely we can get something off of Neogene that will help to further our wondrous projects!"
"This will all end in madness. I can feel it in my oh-so-sexy bones." Juandissimo sighed, shaking his head almost despairingly as the blonde picked up the phone and began dialing again.
The S-List kids spent their time at the Ivory Tower, going over the problem of the magitech armor once more. Despite all the tests and experiments done by the androids that stayed at the Tower, there had been no successful ways of protecting them from wishes without causing harmful side effects to the other fairies or to Caleb. Tootie stayed as far from the armors during testing as she could, unwilling to experience even a bit of the ill effects the other magic-users went through whenever a nullifier was activated near them. None of them had heard word from Timothy since the brunet ran off to speak with Francis about the accident, and the majority of Team Turner didn't care to hear of what happened once he returned. Which he still hadn't and it worried Tootie and Trixie both.
"It's been hours since he took off. Where the heck is he?" Trixie groaned in boredom, stretched out on a couch as A.J. and Sanjay clustered around the laptop again, studying the simulation program intensely.
"That's six variables and still nothing. It's even started to repeat scenarios." the African-American grumbled, "I don't get this!"
"Maybe this is like one of those unsolved mysteries from that one show." Chester sighed hopelessly from his place at a table, "Like, one of those things that can only be explained by God and He's not gonna spill the beans 'til we're all dead. Y'know?"
"Can somebody get Timothy on the phone and have him get over here? Testing those armors would be easier if we had him helping us." the raven-haired Popular declared and wove her hands behind her head, "Besides, he's supposed to be in training. Caleb said so."
"He's not gonna train. He's refusing to use magic." Tootie shot back at her in irritation. The group looked over at her in confusion and she fidgeted, aware that she had spoken about something she knew Timmy wouldn't want anyone knowing about. "Um. Never mind." she squeaked.
"No way, Toots. Come on. Why's Timothy pulling the plug on his magic? He was conjuring stuff fine just a while ago." Chester pointed out suspiciously. Tootie shook her head helplessly, hands spread out.
"I dunno. I listened in on Caleb while he was running tests on Timothy and he said that he's being affected by Anti-Cosmo. Something about copying the traits of anti-fairies is changing how he uses magic." she returned lamely, "So he got mad and said he wasn't going to be using any magic until he got Cosmo and Wanda back so that he could copy their good magic instead of Anti-Cosmo's black magic."
"Rough." Elmer murmured and pointed at his hat, "So then why didn't he end up using magic to destroy the hat if he's using black magic now?"
"I'm not sure. He sounded like he was trying to force himself back to using good magic, but he's not doing so well at it." the young Goth returned and looked over at Chester as the blonde pulled out his cell phone and started tapping at keys. "What'cha doing?"
"What's it look like? I'm gonna get Timothy on the phone and ask what the hell's going on." he remarked and set the phone down on the table top, "Okay, it's on speaker so we can all talk to him. If we're lucky, he's done chatting with that bully and we can get some stuff straightened out with him." The phone rang a few times before it was finally answered.
"H-h-hello?" Timothy stammered out weakly. The group of teens looked at one another in concern, then down at the phone.
"Timothy? Are you okay? You sound like something screwed you over." Chester asked in confusion.
"I want to go home... It hurts... It's cold... and dark..." the brunet's voice whispered shakily, "I didn't want to die. Why? Why? I was just a kid."
"Something's wrong. Francis must have done something to trigger a memory or something." A.J. muttered with a frown, "If Timothy's reliving the last moments of his life, then he might end up getting so freaked out that he'll end up running to where he died."
"No, not going there. It's... too painful..." Timothy answered suddenly, voice still shaky, "I just... the memory... I never wanted to die... I didn't want to remember how I died."
"Did Francis do this to you?" Sanjay asked angrily, "I knew he was going to end up hurting someone again!"
"No, he didn't do anything. It was... the basement..." The brunet broke into a soft, agonized moan, "No, no, no... too many horrible memories... I don't want to go back..."
Chester made a quick motion with one hand towards A.J., who bent to work furiously at his laptop. Sanjay peered over his shoulder with him, studying the screen as Elmer twisted the pink cap nervously in his hands.
"Timothy, pull yourself together!" Trixie snapped suddenly, "Focus on our voices! Don't break down now; we still need you!" Tootie shot her an angry glare, cheeks flushed with contained fury. How dare she talk like that to her poor Timmy? He needed them for support now, and all Ms. Popular could think of was whipping him back into Hero Mode!
"Kept spinning... it was all spinning and I felt sick to my stomach and all I could think of was falling..." Timothy whimpered, a sudden sob obscuring some of his words, "...cold... so cold and dark..."
"Got him! GPS tracked his phone. He's at Dimmsdale Cemetery!" A.J. announced triumphantly.
"Falling? You died in a fall?" Trixie asked in surprise, "Something spun and you fell? Is that how you died? I would have thought it was something more exciting, like a murder or something." She sat back with a look of slight disappointment on her face. "I guess he wasn't bluffing when he said he died in an accident." The rest of the S-List began jumping up and heading for the door and she looked at them in surprise. "Where are you going?" she exclaimed in confusion.
"To get Timothy back! That's what friends are for!" Chester called back, "C'mon, Tricks! Let's go!"
.
Team Turner raced down the streets of Dimmsdale for the cemetery, the fading sunset lighting their paths in streams of red and gold. Chester kept the phone on, calling into it every few minutes to be sure the brunet hadn't completely snapped while on the line. Between cries for his parents and pleas to be taken away from 'the cold and the dark', it was easy to hear that the young immortal was quickly losing himself to the horrors of his own memory. Tootie clenched her teeth together, unable to bear the thought of her crush suffering because of his encounter with the one who killed him. It had been a horrible idea; why didn't she try to talk him out of it? Why didn't she at least go to be sure he would be okay?
"Hey, you still there?" Chester called into the phone.
"No kid should see what I did. No kid should be trapped with the memories. Why did I die? Why did I live? It's a curse... I don't want to be here, like this..."
"That doesn't sound good." A.J. muttered, carting his laptop under one arm as he jogged alongside the blonde on the group's mad dash for the cemetery, "Timothy! Snap out of it!"
"A.J.? Why do you keep trying to figure things out? It won't help me. I'm gone, gone, gone forever."
"Uh oh." Tootie murmured, eyes widening. Not good, not good at all! Timmy was so out of it, he'd started babbling and it would only be a matter of time before he said something that gave him away.
"What's he talking about? We're working on Timmy's accident, not Timothy's." Elmer questioned in confusion. The other boys glanced at each other, perplexed, then down at the phone. "Timothy, stay right where you are. We're coming to get you and take you back to the Ivory Tower so you can get some help." he told the brunet in a calming voice between puffs of air.
"I don't need help! You can't help what's dead!" Timothy snapped back harshly, "Just leave me alone! Stop that stupid simulation, stop trying to put my name on everything, stop putting me on that stupid pedestal! Get on with your lives and leave me out of it!"
"I think he's going crazy." Chester remarked in surprise.
"That poor boy! His mind has snapped like a celery stick and that anti-fairy is the ranch dressing!" Sanjay exclaimed in alarm, "He is confusing himself with our dear Timmy!" The dial tone suddenly came on and he blinked at the phone. "And he has hung up on us. How rude." he added.
"That's okay. We're here." A.J. pointed out, pausing at the entrance to the cemetery, "We know he likes hanging out at Timmy's grave, so let's check that out first." The group hurried into the cemetery, moving straight for the little tombstone that was so often buried with toys and flowers.
Sure enough, they did find Timothy there, sitting against the stone in a dejected huddle, shivering. Anti-Cosmo perched on the grave marker itself, looking strangely wilted. His bat wings drooped down from his back and he appeared as though he'd lost interest in being mischievous or devious. Tootie raced past her friends to kneel by the brunet, worry creasing her little face as she nudged at him. He glanced at her with haunted eyes, then shut them tightly and shuddered almost violently.
"It was there. Every last bit of it." he whimpered, "It was sick! Sick, sick, sick!" Tootie blinked, tilted her head in confusion. "The jungle gym. He had a copy of it built there in the basement." he murmured with another shudder, "And Crocker's lair; he had that too. I wanted to throw up, everything kept spinning even though nothing moved."
"Dude, you totally had us freaked out, man. What the heck happened? What did Francis do to you?" Chester asked in confusion as he and the Others finally reached him, "Toots! Is he okay?"
"He said Francis had a copy of the jungle gym in his basement." Tootie answered quickly, standing up and between him and the group of boys, "The same jungle gym that Timmy fell off of four years ago." The S-List suddenly looked murderous.
"That jerk! He probably built it as a trophy!" Trixie growled viciously, "No wonder Timothy is so out of it; coming face to face with the thing that killed the Heart of Dimmsdale could give any one of us a panic attack!"
"We should blow that thing away as a warm-up to tearing down another Dark Spire." Chester hissed, cracking his knuckles together.
"Much as I agree with Chester, this could actually be some useful information." A.J. grumbled, "What else was in there? Anything that could help with my program?"
"He said that the basement looked like Crocker's lair, and that everything seemed to be spinning even though nothing moved." Tootie added and looked puzzled, "Crocker had a lair? Is that where he first came up with all those fairy traps?"
"Yeah." Timothy muttered, uncurling and looking up at the group tiredly, "Sorry about all that. It... wasn't easy to see all that. Brought back bad memories."
"Of your own fall?" Trixie asked quietly and the brunet blinked at them in surprise.
"My what?" he echoed and turned red, "Did I say that? No! I meant I fell from, uh... good standing?" The S-List stared at him blankly, then took on a collective expression of disbelief. "Okay, fine. So what if I fell off of something myself? Why do you think I was gung-ho on helping out your city in honor of that kid buried here?" Timothy grumbled, folding his arms over his chest, "And Crocker had a lair under his classroom in the elementary school. Timmy told me about it in some of his letters." He blinked suddenly. "Hey! Why didn't I think of checking that out before? There could be tons of information there we can use to help us destroy the Spires!" he exclaimed.
"Everything spun, but nothing moved. What kind of observation is that?" A.J. mused aloud, perplexed by the words, "When did you get that feeling?"
"When I first saw the jungle gym. Can we drop that subject please? My stomach's already turning at the idea of it." Timothy groaned, turning a vague color green.
"The anti-fairy looks like he wants to puke, too." Chester agreed.
"Too... much... positive... feeling..." Anti-Cosmo griped slowly, "This tombstone's full of it and it's sickening!"
"Then get off." Timothy grumbled, picking him off by the back of his collar. He stood, dropping the anti-fairy onto his shoulder. "Okay, let's head back to the Ivory Tower. I want to get some things straightened out with Caleb before I get home. We'll keep working on the magitech armors tomorrow." he added and sighed, "I hope Cosmo and Wanda get back soon. Things would be easier with them around." Taking one last look back at the small grave marker, the group nodded in agreement and made their way out of the cemetery.
