A/N: Special thanks to my betas Lady Mayflower and TEP Redux!
I do not own South Park all rights reserved to Trey Parker and Matt Stone.

XII. Wendy- Winter

In which Wendy senses something akin to change.

It was the last weekend of winter break before we had to return to school. Stan and Kyle were hanging out, and Bebe was meeting with Kenny to practice lines for the play again. How Kenny McCormick got involved in musical theatre is something I'm not sure I want to know. But anyway, it seemed everyone else was busy doing their own thing… or were at least doing all of their winter break reading at the last minute, like I know most of the class was.

After taking a walk around town, I stopped by Stark's Pond and saw that it had frozen over again. It might even be safe to go out on it again; with all of the craziness that's been happening recently, I could really use an afternoon of ice-skating to clear my head.

Let me explain.

I was walking over to Cartman's so that we could work on debate stuff for this month and get it out of the way. I arrived just in time to see him take off running for the woods like his feet were on fire. I thought I was seeing things, until I saw a guy in a Bane getup with a ski mask. The same psycho who attacked Butters.

I tried to run after them, but they had a big head start on me. I almost lost them in the woods, but then I heard the two gunshots coming from Stark's Pond. It wasn't until later that I noticed all of the signs and the big painting across the ice. Stan went through all of that effort to make a surprise picnic for me, and then that asshole had to go and ruin it. I wanted to go after him, but then I saw Cartman starting to sink down, and blood was starting to stain the water...

I may hate his guts, but I still have principles.

So I threw off my shoes and my jacket and dove in after him. I grabbed him and threw him over my shoulder and heaved him back up onto solid ground so I could start CPR. It was freezing cold when the wind picked up. I wanted to put on my jacket, but then I saw how badly Cartman's leg was bleeding...so I grabbed the jacket and tied the sleeves around the bullet wound. Not the best tourniquet, but it was what I could manage at the moment. Then I started compressions while Stan took over trying to stop the bleeding and Kyle went to go meet the paramedics.

Cartman got rushed into surgery to get the shrapnel removed from his leg. I ended up having to stay the night, too, which was stupid. I didn't end up getting hypothermia, but of course they "just wanted to be sure." Still, at least Stan was nice enough to bring me that cake and that mix-tape. It was just a little awkward trying to sit with them. I was kind of worried about Cartman. But no way I could ever admit that to them; at the time, I could hardly admit it to myself. I peeked into his room on my way out the next day. He was awake, which was good to see, but he was also sobbing like a little kid in his mom's arms. I tried to say, "Ah, probably just from the cold or the surgery or something" and not think about it, but… it's still kind of been on my mind.

So that brings us here. I decided to take a walk, try to take some time for myself and clear my head. After all of the craziness, I just wanted a nice, peaceful walk.

...Instead, I found Cartman sitting on a bench by the pond, crying

Eric Cartman, South Park's biggest and most sadistic sociopath, was crying, still clinging to the same urn he refused to let go of when he almost drowned. If it were anybody else, I would have gone over and tried to help. But it wasn't. It was Cartman. I wasn't really sure WHAT to do; the best I could come up with was hiding behind a tree for a few minutes and see what was going on.

I heard a small mew come from Cartman's direction. "Ay! Shut up, yah stupid kittin!" Was that...a cat? I poked my head out a little bit to get a better look. It was! Cartman was looking down at a little black-and-white tabby cat, no bigger than the palms of my hands, who was trying to climb up his jacket. And even though he was yelling, Cartman wasn't… doing anything about it. I was half-expecting him to wail on the poor thing, but he was just letting it be.

"Whaddya want, ho?" Unfortunately, I must have poked out a little too far. Wasn't thinking about his peripheral vision, I guess.

I nervously gulped before stepping out to approach him. He wouldn't even look at me. He was totally absorbed on the urn.

"Well?"

"...Well, what?"

"The fuck are you stalking me for?"

"I wasn't stalking you. I was taking a walk, and I heard you crying."

The awkward pause that followed was one of the most drawn-out I've ever had to suffer through. Usually Cartman would have thousands of insults prepared to fly off his tongue, but he was quiet. He still wouldn't even look at me.

"If yer gonna tell 'em, go ahead."

On any other day, I'd lash out at him. I'd be on the defensive, ready to make sure I still got the last word at the end. But… I couldn't. There was no fight in him. Hell, he couldn't even come up with some really sexist name to call me.

I sat down next to him. Stupid, I know, but… I had to get to the bottom of this. "Tell who what?"

"I dunno. Stan, Kahl, Kinny. Fuck it, go put it in the school paper fer all I care. 'Breaking news, Eric Cartman is a big fuckin' pussy who cries over a fuckin' dead cat!' 'C-Cause who the fuck cries over some dead, stupid animal, right? Especially some dead, stupid cat..."

He went quiet again, but I could hear him sniffling and choking up under his breath. He was still dodging my eyes, but this time it was more defensive, like he didn't want me to look at him. He was crying, and burying that urn in his chest like his life depended on never letting it go.

I never thought I'd see the day. Eric fucking Cartman. The same person who shot Token Black in the fourth grade. Who's been on a hate-crime frenzy to murder one of his best friends just because he's Jewish. Who had a kid's parents killed and ground into chili meat. THAT Eric Cartman… was mourning a life. Okay, sure, it was a cat, but pets aren't just "stupid animals." They're friends, the kind that will always be there for you, no matter what you do. Or...who you are, in this case, I guess.

Urgh. Damn this second x-chromosome and its motherly instincts.

I put an arm around Cartman's shoulders and stroked his back. He needed someone right then-and judging by what he just said, it wasn't about to be any of the boys. He didn't even try to throw me off. In fact, it was the opposite. He moved to bury his face in my shoulder, and I heard and felt his crying get even louder. I didn't try to push him off, either. (Though trust me, I thought about it.) I wanted to know more. I wanted to understand him more. Is that a normal thing that happens when you see your worst enemy break down in front of you?

Mew.

We both looked down to see the little tabby cat, still trying to climb its way into Cartman's lap. "Mahm got me this stupid kittin," he explained, wiping his face on his sleeve. "Dunno what she was thinkin'. Like I'm gonna ferget 'bout Mr. Kitty just 'cause there's this new kitty 'round bein' cute."

Despite his grumbling, he lightly scratched behind the kitten's ear.

"I was kinda pissed off that you saved me at first, y'know. For a sec there, I kinda wanted to go down like Mr. Kitty did. Least we'd be together at the bottom of the pond. Kinda like he wouldn't really be gone, y'know?" He paused to glance over at a handgun sitting on the other side of him.

"I brought this damn cat out here to shoot it, but I fuckin' can't! God, I'm bein' such a goddamn pussy, can't even kill a goddamn pussy!"

"Your mom was probably just trying to help. I don't think she meant to hurt your feelings. ...If it makes you feel better, I was pretty torn up when my grandma's cat died. My grandma took it so hard that she died a few weeks later. Crying over Mr. Kitty doesn't mean you're weak. It just means you're human."

Cartman harrumphed and went back to cradling his urn and not looking at me. I glanced at him, and the urn, then over to the handgun. And then I got an idea.

I grabbed the gun and then ran over to the pond. "Ay! The hell're you doin' with that?!"

"You said you wished you and Mr. Kitty could sit at the bottom of the lake together, right?" I looked for the thinnest spot in the ice, right where that "Bane" character broke it the first time. Then, while Cartman was getting up to join me, I took aim and fired. Bang! Bang! Just like before, the ice shattered, exposing that same cracked, jagged hole as last time… thankfully with a little less blood this time. When Cartman finally caught up, I motioned to the broken ice.

"Look. I can't make everything better, and after last time, you're DEFINITELY not going back in there. But maybe if you let Mr. Kitty go..."

It took him a few moments. Eventually, though, he walked out on the ice and wrestled the lid off of the urn.

"Make sure you wait up fer me, got it, you stupid cat?" he said, I think to the ashes. Then with one last deep breath, he flipped the urn and dumped all of the ashes into the pond.

"...Bye, Mr. Kitty."

We stood side-by-side and watched as the ashes eventually settled and started sinking. No fighting, no insults, just quietly standing and watching.

I turned to ask Cartman if he felt better, but he beat me to the punch. Before I knew what was happening, he leaned in and grabbed me in...a hug? An actual, honest-to-goodness hug? Cartman, showing signs of being an actual human being?! I was in shock, I had no idea what to do! ...So I did the only thing I could think of: I hugged him back.

After a few minutes, we pulled apart so Cartman could wipe his eyes one last time.

"You tell anyone 'bout this, and yer dead, ho, you got it?"

He turned to walk away, but I reached out and stopped him. "Hey, wait."

"What?"

"...Do you remember that substitute teacher we had in third grade? The one who turned out to be a terrorist and got fired into the sun?"

"Who, Ms. Ellen? Yeah, but so what?"

I took a slow nervous breath before admitting, "She wasn't a terrorist. I was jealous that Stan had a crush on her, so I taught myself Arabic and hired some Iraqis to pose as terrorists and frame her." I glimpsed at Cartman; he wasn't saying anything, but there was a weird look in his eyes that I couldn't place. "B-But I warned her! She's an adult, and we were only kids! A-And what else was I supposed to do, she was threatening my relationship! I have a right to protect my boyfriend, don't I? And I regret it now, I just… I didn't back then, just because I was too busy being so damn proud that I pulled it off! Even today, the only people who know about it are Bebe and Kyle… and now you, I guess."

I cringed a little, not sure what kind of response I was going to get. I definitely didn't expect the one I got, though: he started laughing. "Wow, Testaburger, you're just full of shit, aren't ya?"

"What?!"

"You heard me! Preachin' liberal hippie bullshit all day, talkin' 'bout world peace 'n equal rights, blah-blah-blah, callin' ME a psychopath for makin' sure people get what they deserve… and look at you! Sendin' bitches to the sun for bein' catty! God, Windy, I knew you were some kinds'a fucked up, but yer a fuckin' hypocrite on top'a it!"

"I am not! You're the hypocrite here, not me!"

"Like HELL I am! Unlike you fuckin' hippies, I own my shit! Yer the one actin' like the nice girl all the time, and then you pull shit like this!"

"It was one time-!"

"One time, mah balls!" He laughed and sneered so hard, it made me want to punch all of his teeth out. "Yer no better than I am. Hell, I might even say we kinda think alike."

"Oh, fuck off, Cartman!" He's lucky I'm feeling sympathetic, or at least was thirty seconds ago. If we didn't just have a moment, his nose would be in pieces. My fists were ready, but I held back. I'm not like him. I'm not about to stoop to his level.

Now it was my turn to walk off, but Cartman stopped me.

"Ay, hold on a sec."

"What?"

"What'd you tell me all that fer?"

"Because unlike you, who cheats at every chance you get, I believe in an even playing field, remember? It's insurance for both of us. You tell anyone about this Ms. Ellen thing, and I'll tell the entire student body about you crying like a baby over a fuckin' cat."

He thought for a moment, then just nodded before heading off. "Alright, fair enough. Good play, Testabitch. Guess I'm rubbin' off on you more than I thought."

"Seriously, Cartman, fuck off."

"Fine, fine." Before he walked too far, though, he turned around one last time. "...Thanks," was all he said, eyes down while he said it, before grabbing his gun and his kitten and heading home.


I stayed back for a while, at least until he was out of sight. I never let Cartman's insults get to me, but saying I'm full of shit? That I'm a hypocrite? That I'm no better than him?!

...I wasn't sure which part was worse: the fact that Cartman said it, or the fact that I had already noticed it before.