Author's Note: Sorry for the long absence – I was on holiday with my family! We had a great time, especially when we were playing crazy golf! Now I can access the Internet again, I can get back to writing.
To Grocamol, bbst and queenmancilla13, thanks for the lovely reviews!
After all that excitement in the last chapter, we're back to emotions running high. Enjoy! Please keep reading and reviewing!
Chapter Eleven: Rehabilitation
Timmy surveys the circle of worried faces, staring back at him with wide eyes and raised eyebrows and hands over gaping mouths. Names and memories are returning to him. He had friends. He had a family – two families. He had a life before the Darkness. But by the looks of it, he won't have one after it.
"What's wrong?" he asks them, sitting up. "What are you looking at?"
Trixie offers him her compact mirror. "Maybe you should see for yourself."
Timmy takes it with a quivering hand. This can't be good if they won't even say it out loud. He gawks at the tiny circle of glass.
It's not him. It can't be.
He touches his cheek. He sticks his tongue out. The reflection copies him exactly. No, it's him, all right.
What's happened to him?
His eyes are black. The pupils, the irises, the so-called whites – all are black, pitch-black. These are the eyes of a ghost, a ghost mourning the loss of its own life.
That's not all. His hair is sprinkled with soot. His white robes are marred by lumpy black squiggles of ink, like leeches out for his blood. He's so skinny you can count the bones beneath his taut grey skin.
The others are waiting for his reaction.
"Am I gonna be okay?"
Silence.
"Of course you are," Wanda replies.
But she took too long to answer, and she knows it.
"Excuse me."
The circle parts. There stands a woman with jet-black hair, blood-red eyes and paper-white skin.
"Deanna?" Turbo gasps.
"That's right." She picks out some grime from under her fingernails. "Deanna Nesbitt, also known as Dee, also known as the Darkness."
There's a collective "WHAAAAA?!"
"You're the Darkness?" Jorgen scratches his head. "You can shapeshift?"
"It's a skill I've only recently acquired. If I could use it before, I would have done. Maybe fewer people would have run away."
The team is appalled.
"You led us off-course!" A.J. complains.
"You destroyed my home!" Turbo roars.
"You destroyed my home!" Mark butts in.
"You almost killed our son!" Mr and Mrs Turner yell together.
Dee points to Timmy's friend. "You're right, I did lead you astray, but only because I knew you would assault me and steal my treasure, and I wanted to avoid that at all costs."
She points to the fighter. "Turbo, I can only apologise for what I did to you. When I ran away, I put Wonder World back where it was, good as new. Sort of. And Yugopotamia is up and running again," she adds to Mark, "so I hope you can both forgive me."
She points to Timmy's parents. "As for your son, I was never trying to kill him. I love him. He's my special little light. Aren't you?" She directs her last question at the Chosen One himself, striding forwards, filling the gap in the circle.
Immediately there is a pigtailed figure blocking Timmy's view of the Darkness. "Get back!" Tootie snarls. "Haven't you done enough?"
Timmy tries to peer around her. When did Tootie get involved in this?
"What are you talking about?" Dee asks.
"What am I – ? LOOK AT HIM!" the stalker shrieks.
Something strange happens. Timmy is outside himself. He's looking down at his own emaciated frame cowering behind Tootie. He meets the thing's otherworldly gaze. Then, quick as a flash, he's back in his body where he should be, looking up at Dee, who is scrutinising him with pursed lips and a tilted head.
Did they just switch places? Is that how close they are?
What does it all mean?
"There's nothing wrong with Timmy," Dee finally says.
"Besides the dirt and the thinness and the eyes?" Tootie says, expressionless, dangerous.
"He only looks odd to you because he's not where he should be: inside my heart. He'll be fine once I take him back." She crouches, her arms stretching out to pick him up.
"Don't you dare!" Tootie smacks her cheek.
"OW!"
The yelp comes from Timmy.
The attention is back on the Chosen One. People swell over him like a wave on a beach. There are uncountable cries of "What's wrong?" and "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine," he insists. His cheek still smarts, but not as much now.
"What was that about?" A curious Cosmo tries flicking Dee's face. Timmy winces and whimpers. The fairy pushes her head to the left. The child's head whips to the side. The fairy holds her nose. The child gasps for air.
"I think that's enough," Wanda halts him.
"You're a sly fox, aren't you, Dee?" Jorgen growls. He addresses the others. "Don't you see what she's done? They're too closely linked. If we attack her, we'll attack Turner as well – and he'll be injured the most."
Timmy shivers. There's no way to defeat the Darkness without him dying as well. Others murmur in worried tones all around him, but he stays silent. He cannot put his feelings into words. He is both excited and relaxed. He is terrified for himself, but also relieved for Dee. It's weird. His pulse doesn't know whether to speed up or slow down.
"You see? All you do is hurt him. So stay away from Timmy," Tootie orders her foe. "He's home now. He doesn't want you anymore. Just leave him alone."
"How do you know that's what Timmy wants?" Dee sneers. "Why don't you try asking him first?"
"You know what? I will." The girl settles cross-legged before her crush, taking his hands in hers. "Timmy, what do you want? Do you want to be with us or the Darkness?"
Timmy meets her bespectacled eyes, bulging wide and almost pleading with him. He notices all the other faces staring back at him, jaws tense, silently urging him to choose them. Finally, he gawks over Tootie's head to find Dee. That being's face is not like the others. It is completely blank, as if she couldn't care what he chose as long as he was happy.
He has no idea what to say.
He's grateful for these people who were trying to save him. When he first leapt into the Darkness's mouth, he missed them so much. He missed Cosmo and Wanda and Poof, he missed his parents, he missed his friends – heck, part of him even missed Icky Vicky. But when he was in Dee for a little longer, something shifted. It was kind of nice to be surrounded by all that love, knowing it wasn't going anywhere, whereas everyone else was bound to forsake him eventually. And the sheer bliss that flooded his whole body was indescribable.
He loves his rescuers, but what if he loves the monster, too?
The boy closes his eyes, his horrible dead eyes. No-one told him being a hero was so difficult.
"Look…" He has to force the words through the cluster of nerves blocking his throat. "I just want everything to … go back to normal. But … I don't want to kill Dee to make that happen." He raises his head and spots her smiling, and he takes a deep breath. "Maybe we can work this out together."
"But the prophecy says you're supposed to 'end' the Darkness," Turbo insists.
Timmy shrugs. "Prophecies aren't always right."
"I'll say," Vicky agrees. "I mean, I don't remember the prophecy saying Dimmsdale was gonna be totally destroyed."
"Excuse me?"
The crowd parts for Timmy. His home town has been practically wiped out. Piles of bricks and slate sit where the buildings should be. Shards of glass sparkle in the streets between felled trees. The blue sky is gradually being obscured by dark-red clouds. The only object still standing is his house.
"What happened to Dimmsdale?!"
"It was Trixie's fault!" is Tootie's instant reply.
"Huh?"
"She let the Darkness absorb her wind powers and then it made a tornado!"
Timmy doesn't even bother trying to understand. "Cosmo, Wanda, I wish Dimmsdale was back to normal."
His godparents raise their wands – and nothing happens. Their wands droop. The damage remains exactly as it was.
Timmy folds his arms. "Now what?"
"You're part-Darkness," Wanda explains. "Fairies don't grant wishes to the Darkness."
"Eep." Her godson fiddles with his gaping sleeve. Part-Darkness…
"Allow me." Dee hacks and brings up Jorgen's massive wand, ignoring the disgusted cries around her. She passes it to the leader, whose nose crinkles as he brushes it off.
"Let there be Dimmsdale!" he bellows, slamming his wand on the ground.
With a series of POOFs, houses and flats and office buildings spring up from the ground. Trees and flowerbeds are replanted. The city is resurrected.
But things are not quite the same.
…
Turbo, Mark, Mandie and Dark Laser are free to go home, but they have instead been hanging out in the Timmy Cave.
Mr and Mrs Turner were told by their son that they could go back to work, but they both applied for a week's holiday to stay at home despite forgetting how to be parents a long time ago.
Chester, A.J., Trixie and Tootie are back at school, but they barely talk to their classmates, only to each other about when Timmy might be re-joining them.
Crocker is still teaching, writing "2 + 2 = FISH" on the blackboard and making the kids copy the nonsensical sum into their books, but he hasn't been dishing out as many Fs as he used to.
Jorgen is trying to concentrate on sorting out the newly-liberated Fairy World, but he keeps popping back to Turner's room to check up on him.
Cosmo, Wanda and Poof watch Timmy from their fishbowl, but he barely talks to them.
Everything in Dimmsdale is back to normal, except for a certain ragtag group of humans and fairies and aliens. They mention their concern as little as possible. If you don't talk about it, it's not happening – and even if it is, it'll go away sooner if you ignore it, right?
Right?
…
It's a sunny Saturday morning. Vicky parks her car outside the Turners' house and climbs out, with Tootie in tow clutching a paper bag of supplies. The sisters edge around the white chair where the Darkness – Dee – sits. Vicky unlocks the front door with her own key.
The creature leaps up and makes a break for the entrance. Vicky kicks her in the stomach. Dee is knocked back into the chair.
"AAAGH!"
An ear-splitting scream bursts from upstairs.
Too late, Vicky remembers the curse. "Sorry!" she calls. "Now look what you made me do!" she hisses to Dee.
"If you would just let me see him-"
"Never," Vicky cuts her off, slamming the door in her face.
The babysitter and her little twerpette scamper upstairs and swing open the door to Timmy's room. "Good morning, Timmy!" Tootie sings out.
Her greeting is returned with a bout of violent puking.
"What did you do this time?" a green-eyed goldfish asks the teenager.
"It was only a kick to keep her out. I didn't think…" Vicky trails off. She gingerly approaches the bed, where Timmy's head is buried in a giant red bucket. "You okay, kiddo?"
A couple of retches later, he resurfaces. "I think that's it." He hands her the bucket. She peeks at the bizarre bubbling vat of inky vomit and holds it at arm's length. She traipses off to pour it down the toilet; she'll be thankful to be rid of the acrid smell.
When she returns, he is sitting quietly in bed as if nothing happened. But the kid is still a wreck. He is a stick figure, a stranger to his own bedroom, too weak to get out of bed and so propped up on too many pillows. There are comics strewn about on the floor; Vicky had piled them up the day before, but when she'd finished he took one look at the tower and pushed it over. At the moment he just sits and stares at the wall, barely registering the presence of the girls or his fish. Only the tiniest sliver of light peeps through the heavy curtains in a vain attempt to banish the gloom.
"How are you feeling this morning?" Tootie squeezes his hand. "Better? Besides the puking, I mean."
"Not bad." His voice is just above a whisper.
"Here, I made you breakfast." Vicky opens a plastic pot and pours the contents onto a plate, rearranging the bacon and eggs into a smiley face.
Timmy watches her closely. "Who are you, and what have you done with Vicky?"
"Don't get too excited. Your parents are paying me extra to take care of you."
"There she is," the boy smirks.
It's kind of sad that he's happy to see her being greedy. It's as if he actually wants to be at the receiving end of her familiar wickedness, simply because it's a little piece of normality.
Vicky squishes a knife and fork into his tiny fists. "Come on, chow down!"
"I'm not hungry."
"You have to eat something! You're so thin I could play the xylophone on your ribcage." She lightly taps his chest. "But I'm not going to because that would be mean."
Timmy inspects the knife as if he's never seen cutlery before. Then he slowly saws through the bacon, picks up a miniscule amount of meat, and puts it in his mouth. With a great effort, he swallows.
"I'm full," he tells her.
"One more mouthful," Tootie insists. "That's all we ask. Can you do that for us?"
The bacon is already churning in his belly. "Make Vicky ask me in a nasty way."
"Why?"
"Please. Make her stop being nice. It's creepy."
Vicky blinks, then frowns. "Come on, is that the best you can do?" she growls. "Some Chosen One you are."
It's like flicking a switch. He's ploughing through the rashers, only stopping once to glance up at the woman he used to fear. The sisters share a hopeful glance. Vicky's strategy of 'tough love' is working. Until –
Timmy blanches. He knocks the plate off the bed. It smashes on the floor. His fingers strain for the bucket. Tootie shoves it under his mouth. Another spiel of sick erupts. She cringes at the sight. When he gives it back to her, undigested bacon floats in the mix.
"Sorry," he mumbles, fidgeting with the collar of his pyjamas.
"Don't worry about it!" Vicky shrugs it off. "It was worth a shot, right?"
The babysitter takes the bucket and leaves again, repeating a now-familiar routine: have a picnic, puke it up and pour it all away.
She sighs as the liquid swirls down the drain. Years ago, Vicky wasn't sure she even had a heart, let along heartstrings that others could tug. But that's what Timmy's doing to her right now.
She hates seeing him like this. She hates it when she keeps accidentally hurting him. She hates it when he can barely keep any foodstuff down, not even his beloved chocolate chip cookies. She hates to see that his vomit is always the colour of midnight.
It could take months, even years, before the Darkness's poison is purged from his body.
It can't happen soon enough.
…
Vicky and Tootie stay with Timmy for the rest of the day. They flit between Crimson Chin comics, episodes of Crash Nebula and virtual battles on Decimator (with the sisters letting Timmy win every time). Vicky doesn't make him do chores in his fragile state. She doesn't taunt him with some chainsaw she bought off the Internet. She's become the babysitter he always wished for but never got. As for Tootie, not once does Timmy hear the usual silly pet names and high-pitched squeals coming from her mouth. Now is not the time to be romantic.
Though the curtains are closed, Timmy knows when the evening comes because the band of light streaming through the gap changes colour, lemon yellow merging into bright orange. The TV is switched off. There's a distinct lack of activity.
"Was Dee there this morning?" Timmy blurts out, breaking the silence.
"Yep. Still barricading the house," Vicky adds, curling her lip.
He knew without asking. Sometimes he closes his eyes and sees everything the Darkness sees: the locked door, the slightly unkempt front lawn, the curtained windows. He feels what she feels, too – a desperate longing, an emptiness inside that no sweet treat can ever fill.
"Why?" That's all he can say.
"Why what?"
"Why are so many people fighting over me?" He plays with the quilt, lifting it up and letting it fall again. "I'm not that special."
"Don't say that!" Tootie suddenly leaps onto the bed, kneeling before her friend. "You're the Chosen One! You're the most special person in the universe!"
"Yeah, but … I feel so awkward. Like I'm getting in the way of everyone." He deliberates, running a hand through his hair. "I have an idea to stop Dee bothering you all. And to stop me bothering you all."
Vicky rolls her eyes. "Let me guess: you sacrifice yourself to the Darkness again, but this time, we carry on living our lives without you."
There's a pregnant pause.
"Well, what do you know? Great minds think alike!" Timmy tries a cheesy grin.
"You're unbelievable!" Tootie seizes his bony shoulders, forcing herself to face those dark orbs. "Timmy, do you know what we went through to get you out of the Darkness? We've been searching a Blue Moon, hiding in a bunker with angry aliens, freeing the fairies from their prison and having epic battles with merciless robots! Do you think we did all that just so you could hop into the Darkness again and leave us behind? Do you?"
Timmy says nothing.
"DO YOU?" she screeches into his face.
"I don't know!" he cries, shrinking away.
"Of course not!" Tootie lets go. "No-one wants to lose you." She sinks back onto her feet. "So you're not going anywhere, mister."
Timmy bows his head. "Yes, ma'am." His voice is thick. "I just want it to end."
"And it will!" Vicky reassures him. "Relax, sit tight, and it'll all work out. We'll fix this. Trust me."
…
"Oh, we're never going to fix this!"
Vicky paces the length of the living room, Tootie copying her almost exactly. Timmy's fairy family perches on the edge of the couch, while Timmy's human parents stand to the side.
"He's not getting any better," Tootie frets. "He almost seemed worse today." She nibbles her nails. "What if he's too far gone? What if he's…?" She can't finish her sentence.
"This is ridiculous," Mr Turner snaps. "We can't keep walking on eggshells … it's really painful!" He scrapes the shards from his bare feet.
"I agree with my husband," Mrs Turner pipes up. "On a metaphorical level, I mean. We need to try something different, be more direct. Who has any ideas?"
There's a collective "Aww!"
"What kind of idea was that?" Timmy's mother puts her hand on her hips.
"Sorry, Poof was smiling to himself and it was really cute," Cosmo explains.
Vicky pinches the urchin's cheek. "Even my cold dark heart can't resist the joy of a baby's smile." It dawns on her. "That's it! We need Timmy to see Poof! We need to remind him what's good about life!"
"Of course!" Wanda beams. "A child's innocence is the most powerful thing in the universe."
"Well, what are waiting for? Let's do this!" Mr Turner declares.
Poof giggles, and the others practically melt in the face of his adorableness.
This baby is their new hope.
This baby is their last chance.