Disclaimer: I didn't own FOP last chapter, and I still don't

Chapter 12: Welcome to Crazy

Waking to see Mr Crocker's face leering down at you is the stuff of nightmares and for a moment Timmy truly believed he was in one. He had awoken to find himself lying on one of Crocker's lab tables. To his left he could see a huge array of nets, to his right... well, that was where Crocker was standing grinning madly and brandishing some sort of purple bulbed pen, spouting garbled rubbish.

"... and then the whole world will see that I was right." Timmy groaned, he had always heard Crocker was insane, but he had thought that was just schoolyard rumours, the kind that followed all teachers, but this guy was obviously nuts. He sat up and rubbed his head, an action that finally caused Crocker to shut up.

"What happened," He finally blurted out, blissfully free of the numbers for the time being, "And what's all this stuff for," He gestured to the nets and charts that covered the walls, "Are you collecting butterflies or something."

Mr Crocker's smile widened, to the extent that it almost looked like it would snap his face, "A good sane guess Mr Turner, but I'm afraid you just earned yourself another F!" He produced the grade paper from his pocket with a flourish, "As you know, I hate butterflies, even the name is a medieval joke. No, this equipment is to help me capture your," He breathed in, "FAIRY GODPARENTS!" He screamed, bouncing off his feet and landing in a box of incredibly painful looking maces.

Timmy shook his head, "Let me get this straight, you believe in Fairy Godparents too?"

Crocker pulled himself out of the box, shaking a very spiky flail off his ear, "Yes Mr Turner, as you should know and... What do you mean 'too'?"

Timmy smiled and pulled a leaflet out of his pocket, tossing it to Crocker, "I've met them. I'm sure I could show you"

Crocker looked through the leaflet, his delight obvious on his features. Then suddenly he stopped and turned on Timmy, "And why should I believe you Turner?"

Timmy smiled, "Because, my memory's gone and your a vaguely familiar face. I've been so swept up in the excitement that I haven't stopped to think. I don't know whether to believe any of these fairies, one of them even said he was untrustworthy, and I don't like being used as a pawn in their games."

Crocker's grin returned, "Turner with no memories offering to help me find fairies," He turned away, "This must be my lucky day, I can find proof, then dispose of everyone who ever called me crazy."

Timmy paled for a minute, "Listen, I just want to find fairies and persuade them to fix the Earth." He stuttered, unaware that his entire tone had changed in under a minute, "And if we fail," He growled, once again changing emotions, this time from fear to anger, "I'll make those fairies sorry they were- one- ever born."

Crocker's smile widened yet again, if anything was better than Turner offering to help him, it was Turner going insane, then offering to help him. He turned back to Timmy extending his hand, "It's a deal Turner, I give you resources, you find me fairies."

They shook, each unaware that behind their back the other had crossed his fingers, as was tradition when you were about to betray someone.

Or in this case, everyone.

... ...

Wanda hit the ground hard, her wings folded beneath her and she gasped in pain as one of her hands bent behind her back. Whoever had torn her away from the Wiccan realm had been inexperienced at best she decided. She rolled over pushing herself up, she was tired and felt stiff all over, very inexperienced. She stood shakily to her feet and looked out at her surroundings. Nothing, absolutely nothing, not a tree, not a plant. Dust rippled from horizon to horizon. The whole view conjured up feelings of darkness and coldness. However these feelings could not have been more wrong, the sky was nearly filled with a huge light, like the sun but stretching across most of the horizon, ensuring that it was far too bright for Wanda's eyes. For a second the sky was like a fireball, then the light simply tipped, falling from the sky and past the horizon. Darkness fell, and a voice began.

"Ten." The voice echoed through the sky, cold and somewhat malicious, hanging in the air long after it had sounded, like some distant bell. A pulse was starting up somewhere, getting louder and louder, thumping somewhere in the back of her skull. She could feel the pulse on the air, magic, the darkest magic she had ever felt, yet at the same time sad, desperate, crying out and filling the heart with despair. The pulse resonated from every grain of sand in the wasteland. Even Wanda felt the pulse, resonating in beat with her own magic, alone, alone and afraid the pulse screamed through the darkness,

"Nine." The voice continued counting, slowly, waiting for something.

"Eight". Beat, beat, beat. The pulse continued, and every sixty three beats.

"Seven." Another number.

"Six." In that voice, a voice that, now she felt the pulse, made Wanda feel sick to her stomach.

"Five." Wanda saw a light appear far away, she took a step towards it, but her legs would no longer support her and she fell on her face.

"Four." The counting was getting faster, Wanda was sure of it.

"Three." She lay there, barely conscious, suddenly aware that her strength was slipping away. Why had she trusted a magical phenomenon.

"Two." Sure, the pulse had felt desperate, but now; she could feel her magic waning every second.

"One." Wanda's eyes closed, she just couldn't keep them open.

"Zero." The world seemed to flip, the sun rising again. A night that only lasted five minutes, a geological marvel that many astronomers would have given their arms and legs to see. Unfortunately for Wanda she was unconscious.

... ...

Phylus slunk down the mirrored corridors of the filing building, he smiled to himself, it was surprising just how many times you could fool the same guard with the same out-of-date ID. He opened the 5673rd door on the left, and reached his hand up, a file zooming off one of the shelves and into his hands.

He turned, laughing slightly, and found himself face to face with Eclipsia, "Lost again Phylus?"

Phylus smiled and shook his head, raising a file on the wiccans, "I thought I'd help with the war effort."

Eclipsia frowned, "There is only one way you can help with the war, come with me."

Phylus smiled, tucking another file he had taken into his pocket, to join the 26 already back there. Sweeping his green cloak around him in as superior way as he possibly could.

A few minutes later Phylus found himself in Warrenwinter's office, she was easily the most paranoid person he had ever met and her taste in decor showed it. From every surface monitors and scanners bathed the room in an eerie green glow, processors and yet more scanners bleeped as they recorded and displayed every detail of every person who had ever entered the room. You could nearly sense the woman, searching eagerly for any information (no matter how small) that might cause her to distrust the subject of her attention.

Next to her sat the Head of External Security, possibly the only person Warrenwinter trusted. The head of Intelligence looked down at her notes and then up at her predecessor, "I'm afraid that during the war we have been rather lax on security around Fairy World."

Phylus smiled, "So I'd noticed, Ms Warrenwinter."

The head of external security nodded, "The number of prison escapes has trebled."

Warrenwinter spoke again, "Escapees include, Cosmo, Grimoire Flowerpetal, Leonus Drammer."

Phylus raised an eyebrow at the last name, the Head of External Security leaned forwards, "Does that surprise you?"

"I expected more escapes. But I didn't expect you to read your own name Leonus."

'Leonus Drammer' stuttered for a second, turning to Warrenwinter, she smiled, "I thought so, Leonus would have spotted that instantly, he never misses a trick. You're an impostor."

The faceless man stuttered again, "N-no I'm not."

Phylus smiled, "Now that you mention it, it is obvious. Leonus is spectrophobic, so why was he in the hallways of the record building, there's a mirror on every door."

Warrenwinter nodded, "You have also been showing too much emotion, Mr Drammer is very uptight and does not like people to know anything about him."

The impostor started to talk but Phylus interrupted him, "You should also be walking with a limp, yet your footsteps have been even this whole time."

'Leonus' finally found the words, "That's all circumstantial though."

Warrenwinter nodded, "It is, so how's this. The real Leonus Drammer was found, nearly dead in his house a week ago. He has already been dispatched to the front."

The impostor was dumbfounded for a second, then he began to chuckle, the chuckle grew into a faint laugh, then a roaring maniacal laugh. "I wondered how long you'd take to find me out. You have no idea how much I hate this disguise," Two hands reached from below the three layers of cloaks, ripping them to shreds beneath his grip, he tore off the hoods, revealing a dark green balaclava drawing this off he pulled off the many layers of bandages beneath them (The real Leonus Drammer had spared no expense to protect his appearance from the eyes of others) finally a grey haired face appeared from beneath the bandages. Still two more arms reached from the cloak and Ruben Wiccman unfolded from within the cloak. Grinning like the madman he was, "But you forgot one thing, if I went to all the trouble to impersonate Drammer, losing 10 of my spare bodies in the process I might add, then don't you think I would have prepared some sort of escape." He smiled, rising to his feet, fairy magic may have been blocked within the council buildings, but not the wiccan variety (A security fault that had to be remedied) Ruben Wiccman therefore faded out slowly, leaving just and empty room and one stunned Warrenwinter.

Phylus on the other hand merely smiled, drawing one of Ruben's hairs from his pocket, "Now for a little trick I learnt from Denzel Crocker," He drew a tracker from inside his cloak and placed the hair in it, "I told you Mr Crocker, I know everything."

... ...

Timmy bent down and touched the ground, it felt strange to be in Fairy World, a sort of Déjà-vu burned in the back of his mind, he knew this place (sort of) but he didn't know why. Fifty. Why did he feel so sad when he looked at this? Why did this device seem so normal to him? Fifty-two. This thing shouldn't seem normal. Fifty-three.

What Timmy now held in his hand looked like a locket, on its own it meant nothing to him, just someone's lost trinket, but he recognised the picture, Wanda along with a small spherical creature. Bellow the picture there was a tiny map, marked with a bleeping dot, marking a particular point, telling him the impossible, telling him...

"Are you going to just stand here thinking Turner," Crocker's voice shattered Timmy's thoughts pulling him back to reality, "We had a deal Turner, I help you do... something, and you find me fairies, I don't see any fairies."

Timmy turned towards his teacher, he didn't quite know how Mr Crocker had managed to pilot a basement with no propulsion, no clear way of steering and no power source between two mythical universes, but somehow the madman had done it. "I'm- fifty four- not a fairy- fifty five- detector you know. Find your own damn fairies!"

Timmy stopped, almost as surprised by his outburst as he was by the counting, he inhaled deeply, wondering why he felt so angry. Crocker had obviously noticed too, this wasn't like Timmy, he didn't explode over nothing; at least he didn't think he did. He concentrated, trying desperately to remember anything, but every time he got close the numbers rose up to block him, getting louder each time.

Sixty. Nothing. Sixty one. Nothing. Sixty two. Nothing. Sixty Three. Nothing. Sixty four. Nothing.

Sixty five. Muffin? Wait what? Timmy tried again, but only got the numbers. Still for a fraction of a second he had seen it, a purple muffin with a green and white star-tipped candle in the top. For a moment he had felt happy, he sighed; why was his every happy thought held behind, sixty six, those infernal numbers, sixty seven. Timmy groaned again and bent double, clutching his head, "Sixty eight, sixty nine, seventy, seventy one..." Timmy was so distracted he didn't notice Mr Crocker sneaking away, towards the city he could see in the distance.

Timmy Turner was left, once again, sobbing and alone in a world he had never asked to be in.